I was a little worried about the location of my new place in Savannah. There are certain roads you shouldn't live near if you want to feel safe, and I am a block away from one, and a block away from another. If I were one block east or south of where I am, I would be in an iffy part of town.
Keep in mind that the couple moving in above me won't be there for another 3 weeks after I move in. It will be just me and Sammy at first, all alone in the new place.
Math time!
One big, old empty house
living on the edge of the safe part of town
+ my overactive imagination
-------------------------------
= major panic.
Who knows an area better than the people who live there, right? I mean, after being in Columbia for 6 years, I can tell anyone where to live and where to avoid. So I hit up some Savannah message boards to gather some opinions about the level of safety I could expect.
EVERY person (there were about 10) who replied told me that if I can get out of my lease, I should. The phrases "not a good area at all" and "I would not want my daughter to live there" and "wouldn't be able to find a less desirable location if you tried" were used. Oh dear. That's not good.
So last week, I basically freaked out and thought about breaking my lease. Or buying a gun. Or a very large German Shepherd with a nasty temper. Or a taser. Or something. Anything. All I could think was "I am alone, on the ground floor and it would not be very difficult to break into my house if you were a very large and very violent bad guy. I am toast. I might as well start preparing myself to be beaten up, robbed and gang-banged." After he stopped teasing me about being so paranoid, I made CN promise to stay with me for a few days once I move in.
Luckily, MJ calmed me down a LOT and reminded me that I will probably be fine and that there's no way to 100% avoid crime anywhere you live. She lived in a really REALLY bad part of town when she first moved to Columbia, and she had no problems. Just because you might live near some sketchy areas doesn't meat you're guaranteed to be a crime victim. And just because you're in a nice part of time doesn't mean you won't be a target, either. She said the message board people were probably trying to freak me out and all of them probably live in a cushy suburb somewhere. One man's ghetto is another man's "oh, this is fine."
And the most common crime in my part of downtown is car break-ins. (I looked it up on the police dept website) Which probably won't happen to me, because I drive a friggin Pontiac Vibe and all I keep in there are some scratched up CDs. I'm not much of a target.
So I asked my landlord if I could install some motion-detector lights, and he said yes. I asked MJ if I could borrow her super-scary chocolate lab mix, Nabisco. She said yes. I felt that would be good, but if I started to feel a little nervous, I would think about getting a taser or a home security system.
Yesterday, MJ and I went down to Savannah so she could see my place and I could start moving some of my stuff in, get my key, think about where my furniture will go, etc. Once we were all done, we took a walk, grabbed some lunch and came back to the house. We sat on the front steps and watched the neighborhood for a while. We didn't see anything scary or sketchy. It was actually very very quiet. We went back inside and were about to leave when we heard a commotion outside. It was a group of kids. Two of them were having a fist fight in the middle of the street! These kids were maybe in middle school. After a little noise, a bunch of people came outside to see what was going on, and one of the moms in the building across the street broke it up. It was maybe 30 seconds of craziness. No biggie.
I took advantage of the situation and introduced myself to a neighbor and began asking questions about the safety of the neighborhood. "You just witnessed the worst thing I've seen since I moved here," he said. WHEW! That was good to hear! "Everyone on this street expects everyone else to look out for each other," he continued. The street was about half renters, half owner-occupied. Which is a good mix, I think.
He introduced me to a few more neighbors, and they all said they felt fine living there. They had never seen any crimes or anything unusual or dangerous. The iffy-looking building across the street was full of low-income families -- lots of single moms with kids who never bothered anyone. They said I had nothing to worry about, as long as I don't do anything stupid (like leave my doors unlocked) or showy. (Not like I have any fancy gadgets to be showy with!) My house is surrounded by college kids with irregular schedules who throw house parties on the weekends. If their parents can sleep at night knowing their kids are ok, then I can, too.
So I feel a LOT better. But I'm still going to borrow one of CN's golf clubs and put up motion detector lights. Just in case.
Showing posts with label I am a wuss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I am a wuss. Show all posts
Monday, February 16, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Ring in the New Year?
Update: CN's job transfer to Savannah isn't finalized, but his boss said it looks "promising", whatever that means. He and I did some number crunching, and it really just makes so much financial sense for us to go ahead and shack up, dammit. We both have mortgages and we may not get renters for a few months. There's no way I could afford rent AND a mortgage on my own. (I am not getting that big of a raise!) Besides, we all know how bad I am with money. *ahem* So I am going to have to suck it up and hope that CN will eventually buy the cow, instead of only enjoying the free milk, if you get my drift.
And I am not 100% comfortable with it. I know what you are saying/thinking: "I did it with my man, and now we're married! Don't worry!" or "It's no big deal. He loves you. You will totally get married, so just chill and go with the flow." or "You never really know someone until you live with them. This will give you insight into your marriage!" or "Marriage, schmarriage! You need the 2nd income! Be glad you're on such good terms with your future roommate!"
Which are all valid comments. But I worry. What if one year of living together turns into three...five...eight...and I turn into Little Miss Where Is My Ring??? I don't want to be that girl. With the bitching and the nagging and the ultimatums. But I will eventually get there, I know it. I already have days where I want to scream at him, "What are you waiting for???!!!!" And I always joke that I am free on Saturday afternoon if he wants to run down to the courthouse.
Also, what if we break up? (Ok, at this point, it's extremely unlikely-- laughable, actually -- but still. It could happen!) Then I am stuck with a 12-month lease on my own. Ouch.
My point is, I want some security. Preferrably in the form of a large gemstone on that all-important finger. I want him to put his money where his mouth is. I have been trying to stay calm and trust that he will do it one day like he says he will. I have made him promise that it will be before my ovaries shrivel and before my boobs are down to my knees. But that's about as much as I have said. Deep down inside, I am scared of being left high and dry or turning into a shrill bitch.
And living with a man is something I always imagined doing after I got married. I guess I'm just old-fashioned. CN thinks shacking up is a no-brainer and he's not getting why I'm freaking out about it. I tell him it's because he doesn't have a uterus. Which puts a puzzled expression on his face.
When CN asked me a few weeks ago, "Could we live together if we got engaged? Or does it have to be marriage?" I didn't really know what to say. I hadn't thought about that option. But that's a decent amount of commitment. I know, in the logical part of my brain, that he's not going anywhere. He's in it for the long haul. But that lobe in my brain, the one in charge of "What if?", is buzzing with paranoia, and I can't shut it up. Triggered by his question, that worrysome lobe began quivering, and I almost blurted out, "No! Marry me, you commitment-phobe! What the hell?! We are perfect together! Stop stalling!"
But then I remembered: moving to Savannah was my idea. Not his. And he's totally down for going, no questions asked. Moving farther away from his family. Selling or renting his house. All the personal, financial and material upheaval that comes with living in a new place. He's down for it. Because he knows it's what I want and that it will make me happy. (It will make him happy, too, don't get me wrong -- he wanted to move there, too. In like 3 years. Not 3 months. LOL)
So I said, "Yes. We can live together if we are engaged."
And then I let it drop. I didn't push it anymore. In fact, with all the talking about moving, I kind of put it in the back of my head and decided that I would worry about that later. If we got engaged first, great, if not, oh well. In other words, I was totally caving on the issue. (Shhh! Don't tell him that.)
So imagine my surprise when last night, as I was cleaning up after our dinner of bean and cheese quesadillas. CN grabbed my hands and said, "Are you ok with living with me?"
And again, I didn't really know what to say. I was....mostly. I said, "Well, I mean, yeah. But it's not really the way I had planned it. But I don't see how else I can afford it. It just doesn't make sense for us to both move there and not live together."
"Would you feel better about it if I got you a ring?" he asked.
Well, duh.
"YES!" I shouted.
"Ok, well, we can go ring shopping. Email me some photos of what you like tomorrow when you get to work." [Note: At last count, I emailed 8.]
"Can we do that this weekend?" I asked, jumping up and down.
"I thought we were going to drive down to Savannah and look at apartments," he replied.
I reminded him that we don't even know what our budget is yet, and that we might as well just stay here and go ring shopping. He agreed.
WOO HOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And I am not 100% comfortable with it. I know what you are saying/thinking: "I did it with my man, and now we're married! Don't worry!" or "It's no big deal. He loves you. You will totally get married, so just chill and go with the flow." or "You never really know someone until you live with them. This will give you insight into your marriage!" or "Marriage, schmarriage! You need the 2nd income! Be glad you're on such good terms with your future roommate!"
Which are all valid comments. But I worry. What if one year of living together turns into three...five...eight...and I turn into Little Miss Where Is My Ring??? I don't want to be that girl. With the bitching and the nagging and the ultimatums. But I will eventually get there, I know it. I already have days where I want to scream at him, "What are you waiting for???!!!!" And I always joke that I am free on Saturday afternoon if he wants to run down to the courthouse.
Also, what if we break up? (Ok, at this point, it's extremely unlikely-- laughable, actually -- but still. It could happen!) Then I am stuck with a 12-month lease on my own. Ouch.
My point is, I want some security. Preferrably in the form of a large gemstone on that all-important finger. I want him to put his money where his mouth is. I have been trying to stay calm and trust that he will do it one day like he says he will. I have made him promise that it will be before my ovaries shrivel and before my boobs are down to my knees. But that's about as much as I have said. Deep down inside, I am scared of being left high and dry or turning into a shrill bitch.
And living with a man is something I always imagined doing after I got married. I guess I'm just old-fashioned. CN thinks shacking up is a no-brainer and he's not getting why I'm freaking out about it. I tell him it's because he doesn't have a uterus. Which puts a puzzled expression on his face.
When CN asked me a few weeks ago, "Could we live together if we got engaged? Or does it have to be marriage?" I didn't really know what to say. I hadn't thought about that option. But that's a decent amount of commitment. I know, in the logical part of my brain, that he's not going anywhere. He's in it for the long haul. But that lobe in my brain, the one in charge of "What if?", is buzzing with paranoia, and I can't shut it up. Triggered by his question, that worrysome lobe began quivering, and I almost blurted out, "No! Marry me, you commitment-phobe! What the hell?! We are perfect together! Stop stalling!"
But then I remembered: moving to Savannah was my idea. Not his. And he's totally down for going, no questions asked. Moving farther away from his family. Selling or renting his house. All the personal, financial and material upheaval that comes with living in a new place. He's down for it. Because he knows it's what I want and that it will make me happy. (It will make him happy, too, don't get me wrong -- he wanted to move there, too. In like 3 years. Not 3 months. LOL)
So I said, "Yes. We can live together if we are engaged."
And then I let it drop. I didn't push it anymore. In fact, with all the talking about moving, I kind of put it in the back of my head and decided that I would worry about that later. If we got engaged first, great, if not, oh well. In other words, I was totally caving on the issue. (Shhh! Don't tell him that.)
So imagine my surprise when last night, as I was cleaning up after our dinner of bean and cheese quesadillas. CN grabbed my hands and said, "Are you ok with living with me?"
And again, I didn't really know what to say. I was....mostly. I said, "Well, I mean, yeah. But it's not really the way I had planned it. But I don't see how else I can afford it. It just doesn't make sense for us to both move there and not live together."
"Would you feel better about it if I got you a ring?" he asked.
Well, duh.
"YES!" I shouted.
"Ok, well, we can go ring shopping. Email me some photos of what you like tomorrow when you get to work." [Note: At last count, I emailed 8.]
"Can we do that this weekend?" I asked, jumping up and down.
"I thought we were going to drive down to Savannah and look at apartments," he replied.
I reminded him that we don't even know what our budget is yet, and that we might as well just stay here and go ring shopping. He agreed.
WOO HOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, August 15, 2008
My Little and How Camp Traumatized Me
I was recently matched up with a Little Sis from Big Brothers Big Sisters. YAY!!!
Her name is V. She's 11 and about to start 6th grade. I was really excited to hear that she is this age, because middle school was the most difficult time for me when I was a kid. That's when I was picked on by bullies and when I felt at my most awkward -- glasses AND braces. To make it even worse, I was the first girl in my class to hit puberty. It was a rough time. So I am excited to be there to support her and be someone she can talk to, because I know how mean 12 year olds can be. I'm hoping that I can help her have enough confidence to weather the storm, you know?
She's really nervous to start 6th grade next week. I told her that the first couple of weeks might be a little sticky, but after that, she'll be a pro. Luckily, lockers don't seem to phase her. I, on the other hand, would have daily battles with the lock on my locker throughout my 6-12 grade years. My stubborn locks caused me to be tardy many times. I never did get the hang of combination locks, and I still avoid them to this day. So I was relieved to hear that she found them to be of no concern.
Her concern is more about getting to the right classroom at the right time. I can totally understand. A natural rules follower myself, this was my secondary concern when I was a student. (The first, of course, being those g-d combination locks.) So I told her that the teachers usually give everyone a break for the first week or so, until you get your little routine down. I told her by the third day, she will feel pretty comfy with where things are. She seemed relieved to hear this.
V and her little (biological) sister live with their mom and grandma. They just got a dog who looks like a pit bull mix. Her name is Zoe and she's very sweet. What I think is really cool is that the mom, the younger sister and V are all cloggers. And apparently, pretty good at it -- V just tried out for the competitive team, and she made it! If you are not familiar with this part of the country, you might not know about clogging. It's like....Riverdance. Kinda. But more country-music oriented (IMHO). And there's outfits. Colorful, sequined, knee-length dresses with crinolines that they wear for their recitals and competitions. This is right up my alley -- bring on the girly-girl stuff!! Let me see if I can find a video so you can see clogging in action. It's pretty cool! Take a look at an example:
Other than clogging, V is into Hannah Montana and The Jonas Brothers. So I am rapidly becoming acquainted with this whole pre-teen phenomenon. Apparently, there's a lot of albums and 3-D concerts on the Disney Channel. Oh, and Nick is the hottest Jonas Brother. That's what I've learned so far.
V and I hung out last night. We took Sammy on a walk in her neighborhood and she told me all about camp. She just went to camp for the first time, and she loved it. I was very relieved to hear this, because I. HATED. CAMP. I thought it was the most horrible idea ever, and begged my mother to never ever take me there again. The Czarina, always the penny-pincher, was happy to oblige this request. So aside from one horrible week the summer after 5th grade, I was spared this experience.
Why did I hate camp so much? The main reason was that it seemed everyone brought their best friend with them to camp. I apparently missed this memo and arrived solo at Camp Merri-Mac, which is located near Asheville, NC and is probably a wonderful camp, if you are not 11 year old VB. But I was a naive 11 year old, so when I was being dropped off at camp, I was a ball of excitement, ready to pack my days full of all the fun activities you find at camp.
I remember that all the cabins were named after celestial bodies: moons, stars, planets, etc. I remember getting excited about the fact that my cabin was called "The Milky Way", because that is and always has been my favorite candy bar. "This is a good sign," I thought. So I got to my cabin, greeted by my super nice counselor, Jodie. Jodie, I would find out later, was from Michigan, which at the time seemed as exotic as India to me. (I didn't get out a lot.) The first thing Jodie did was give me a "fun size" Milky Way candy bar. So far, camp ROCKED. I remember thinking, "Ok, Mom, you can go away now!" (Actually, I think this a lot...but anyway.)
After talking with my mom for a minute, Jodie took me inside the cabin and announced my arrival and introduced me to the other girls in my cabin. They all said "Hi" and then went right back to what they were doing. The bliss of summer camp all came to a screeching halt when I realized that all the other girls in my cabin were already paired up, because they had gotten that "bring your best friend or camp will suck donkey balls" memo. And they had no interest in me whatsoever. They were gathered in pairs, talking excitedly as they unpacked. I was being ignored. Not that I am an attention-seeking person, but I was old enough to realize they were intentionally sending me an unfriendly vibe.
Since I was new to the whole camp idea, I had a lot of questions for the other campers. Where do I put my toiletries? What time do we get up in the morning? My questions were met with one word answers. I got the impression that they all just wanted me to leave them alone. And since I was extra-super shy and possessed the self-esteem of a homeless crackhead prostitute at that stage in life, I didn't do anything about it. So I spent the week alone, silent and shunned.
I definitely got a very snooty vibe from the other girls. I remember one of them looking at me with disgust when I told her that I hadn't started shaving my legs yet. I still remember what town she was from: Jupiter, Florida. She had long blonde hair, subscribed to Seventeen and shopped at some mysterious place called "The Gap". She already looked like a teenager. I, on the other hand, still had baby fat and secretly played with Barbies and wore clothes my mother picked out at Stein-Mart. She watched 90210. I watched Disney movies. Forming a picture in your head yet? Yeah, it was kind of sad, really. This Florida Girl was sort of the ring-leader and enabled the snootiness to percolate in the cabin for the entire week. I can still see her face when I close my eyes. Brown eyes, bangs, a turned up nose.
My counselor, Jodie, was extremely nice and I believe, totally clueless about how Florida Girl treated me. I still like the name Jodie because of her. Jodie = fun size Milky Way bars. It's a good association to have.
Anyway, there was only one other girl in the cabin who shared my fate. Her bed was directly under mine. We shared a bunk because we were the only two girls who hadn't arrived with best friends from home. I can't remember her name, either. But I remember she had frizzy brown hair and big red Sally Jessy Raphael glasses. She liked animals and she talked too much. So she was an even bigger dork than I was. She was easy pickings for the snooty group in our cabin. By default, she and I hung out together for the week, despite the fact that I didn't really enjoy her company. But I do remember sticking up for her when someone said something mean about her.
Ah, pre-teen girls.............they are possibly the most evil and cruel group of humans on Earth.
Where was I? Oh yes. The rest of camp was not very memorable. I remember lanyards and archery and swimming and Shepherd's Pie. But mostly, I remember feeling rejected, extremely lonely and homesick. It was the first time I had ever been away from home longer than a night. It was the first time in my life I had no one to talk to or "play" with. (Remember, I am from a big family, so being alone is a foreign concept to me, and very scary, actually.) I remember crying quietly into my pillow, so the mean girls wouldn't hear me and make fun of me. It was horrible!
By mid-week, I was counting down the days until my mother would arrive to pick me up. Finally, she came! I have never loaded my stuff into any vehicle so quickly in my entire life. Then, she and I did the COOLEST thing that almost erased my traumatic week at camp: we stayed in a bed & breakfast in Asheville and went to Biltmore the next day before we drove home to Virginia. I don't think my mom knows how much better this made the whole experience for me. If it hadn't been for that portion of my time in the Asheville, NC area, I would vow never to near that horrible part of the country again.
To this day, I have a tendency to go out of my way to make new people feel welcome, or at least not lonely and shunned. And I also have a tendency to hang out with people who are alone, even if I don't enjoy their company. Weird how things that happen to you in childhood stick with you.
Did you go to camp? Did you like it?
Her name is V. She's 11 and about to start 6th grade. I was really excited to hear that she is this age, because middle school was the most difficult time for me when I was a kid. That's when I was picked on by bullies and when I felt at my most awkward -- glasses AND braces. To make it even worse, I was the first girl in my class to hit puberty. It was a rough time. So I am excited to be there to support her and be someone she can talk to, because I know how mean 12 year olds can be. I'm hoping that I can help her have enough confidence to weather the storm, you know?
She's really nervous to start 6th grade next week. I told her that the first couple of weeks might be a little sticky, but after that, she'll be a pro. Luckily, lockers don't seem to phase her. I, on the other hand, would have daily battles with the lock on my locker throughout my 6-12 grade years. My stubborn locks caused me to be tardy many times. I never did get the hang of combination locks, and I still avoid them to this day. So I was relieved to hear that she found them to be of no concern.
Her concern is more about getting to the right classroom at the right time. I can totally understand. A natural rules follower myself, this was my secondary concern when I was a student. (The first, of course, being those g-d combination locks.) So I told her that the teachers usually give everyone a break for the first week or so, until you get your little routine down. I told her by the third day, she will feel pretty comfy with where things are. She seemed relieved to hear this.
V and her little (biological) sister live with their mom and grandma. They just got a dog who looks like a pit bull mix. Her name is Zoe and she's very sweet. What I think is really cool is that the mom, the younger sister and V are all cloggers. And apparently, pretty good at it -- V just tried out for the competitive team, and she made it! If you are not familiar with this part of the country, you might not know about clogging. It's like....Riverdance. Kinda. But more country-music oriented (IMHO). And there's outfits. Colorful, sequined, knee-length dresses with crinolines that they wear for their recitals and competitions. This is right up my alley -- bring on the girly-girl stuff!! Let me see if I can find a video so you can see clogging in action. It's pretty cool! Take a look at an example:
Other than clogging, V is into Hannah Montana and The Jonas Brothers. So I am rapidly becoming acquainted with this whole pre-teen phenomenon. Apparently, there's a lot of albums and 3-D concerts on the Disney Channel. Oh, and Nick is the hottest Jonas Brother. That's what I've learned so far.
V and I hung out last night. We took Sammy on a walk in her neighborhood and she told me all about camp. She just went to camp for the first time, and she loved it. I was very relieved to hear this, because I. HATED. CAMP. I thought it was the most horrible idea ever, and begged my mother to never ever take me there again. The Czarina, always the penny-pincher, was happy to oblige this request. So aside from one horrible week the summer after 5th grade, I was spared this experience.
Why did I hate camp so much? The main reason was that it seemed everyone brought their best friend with them to camp. I apparently missed this memo and arrived solo at Camp Merri-Mac, which is located near Asheville, NC and is probably a wonderful camp, if you are not 11 year old VB. But I was a naive 11 year old, so when I was being dropped off at camp, I was a ball of excitement, ready to pack my days full of all the fun activities you find at camp.
I remember that all the cabins were named after celestial bodies: moons, stars, planets, etc. I remember getting excited about the fact that my cabin was called "The Milky Way", because that is and always has been my favorite candy bar. "This is a good sign," I thought. So I got to my cabin, greeted by my super nice counselor, Jodie. Jodie, I would find out later, was from Michigan, which at the time seemed as exotic as India to me. (I didn't get out a lot.) The first thing Jodie did was give me a "fun size" Milky Way candy bar. So far, camp ROCKED. I remember thinking, "Ok, Mom, you can go away now!" (Actually, I think this a lot...but anyway.)
After talking with my mom for a minute, Jodie took me inside the cabin and announced my arrival and introduced me to the other girls in my cabin. They all said "Hi" and then went right back to what they were doing. The bliss of summer camp all came to a screeching halt when I realized that all the other girls in my cabin were already paired up, because they had gotten that "bring your best friend or camp will suck donkey balls" memo. And they had no interest in me whatsoever. They were gathered in pairs, talking excitedly as they unpacked. I was being ignored. Not that I am an attention-seeking person, but I was old enough to realize they were intentionally sending me an unfriendly vibe.
Since I was new to the whole camp idea, I had a lot of questions for the other campers. Where do I put my toiletries? What time do we get up in the morning? My questions were met with one word answers. I got the impression that they all just wanted me to leave them alone. And since I was extra-super shy and possessed the self-esteem of a homeless crackhead prostitute at that stage in life, I didn't do anything about it. So I spent the week alone, silent and shunned.
I definitely got a very snooty vibe from the other girls. I remember one of them looking at me with disgust when I told her that I hadn't started shaving my legs yet. I still remember what town she was from: Jupiter, Florida. She had long blonde hair, subscribed to Seventeen and shopped at some mysterious place called "The Gap". She already looked like a teenager. I, on the other hand, still had baby fat and secretly played with Barbies and wore clothes my mother picked out at Stein-Mart. She watched 90210. I watched Disney movies. Forming a picture in your head yet? Yeah, it was kind of sad, really. This Florida Girl was sort of the ring-leader and enabled the snootiness to percolate in the cabin for the entire week. I can still see her face when I close my eyes. Brown eyes, bangs, a turned up nose.
My counselor, Jodie, was extremely nice and I believe, totally clueless about how Florida Girl treated me. I still like the name Jodie because of her. Jodie = fun size Milky Way bars. It's a good association to have.
Anyway, there was only one other girl in the cabin who shared my fate. Her bed was directly under mine. We shared a bunk because we were the only two girls who hadn't arrived with best friends from home. I can't remember her name, either. But I remember she had frizzy brown hair and big red Sally Jessy Raphael glasses. She liked animals and she talked too much. So she was an even bigger dork than I was. She was easy pickings for the snooty group in our cabin. By default, she and I hung out together for the week, despite the fact that I didn't really enjoy her company. But I do remember sticking up for her when someone said something mean about her.
Ah, pre-teen girls.............they are possibly the most evil and cruel group of humans on Earth.
Where was I? Oh yes. The rest of camp was not very memorable. I remember lanyards and archery and swimming and Shepherd's Pie. But mostly, I remember feeling rejected, extremely lonely and homesick. It was the first time I had ever been away from home longer than a night. It was the first time in my life I had no one to talk to or "play" with. (Remember, I am from a big family, so being alone is a foreign concept to me, and very scary, actually.) I remember crying quietly into my pillow, so the mean girls wouldn't hear me and make fun of me. It was horrible!
By mid-week, I was counting down the days until my mother would arrive to pick me up. Finally, she came! I have never loaded my stuff into any vehicle so quickly in my entire life. Then, she and I did the COOLEST thing that almost erased my traumatic week at camp: we stayed in a bed & breakfast in Asheville and went to Biltmore the next day before we drove home to Virginia. I don't think my mom knows how much better this made the whole experience for me. If it hadn't been for that portion of my time in the Asheville, NC area, I would vow never to near that horrible part of the country again.
To this day, I have a tendency to go out of my way to make new people feel welcome, or at least not lonely and shunned. And I also have a tendency to hang out with people who are alone, even if I don't enjoy their company. Weird how things that happen to you in childhood stick with you.
Did you go to camp? Did you like it?
Monday, April 21, 2008
Cruise News, Part 3
As much as I have complained about the cruise, it was not all bad.
Friday, we were in port at Freeport. We decided not to go on any excursions that day, in order to save money. Besides, we were only there for about 7 hours, and none of the excursions sounded like they were can't-miss. Freeport is, according to all the travel websites and books I consulted, not anything worth seeing.
CN and I did look at the little tshirt shops that were literally right off the gangplank. I finally got to listen to someone speak in the local Bahamian accent. It sounds very similar to a Jamaican accent, but not as thick. After about an hour, we had seen everything there was to see, so we got back on the boat.
That night, we had our formal dinner. We went to the cocktail party beforehand, where we had yummy appetizers and drinks--all free. CN and I did a little slow dancing, which was nice (aw). For dinner, most of our group opted for the surf n turf combo: filet mignon and lobster tail. Aside from the lobster tail being rubbery and overcooked, it was good food.
Everyone changed into more comfortable clothes immediately after eating dinner, which doesn't really justify getting all dressed up to begin with. (Note to self: VB, you enjoy vacations which do not require formal wear.) Everything was going pretty well, and CN and I even managed to stay up with the rest of the group for about an hour. But by then, we were pooped, so we went to bed.
At some point that night, we were jarred awake by extremely loud banging on our door. At first, I imagined we were in the midst of some kind of Titanic-like sinking, or there was a big fire on board. CN, who was closer to the door, jumped up to see who was banging at the door.
No one was there. No one was even in the hallway.
Waking up in a panicked state is probably my least favorite thing in the whole world. So I was pretty pissed. "Stupid kids..." I mumbled, as I rolled back over to go back to sleep.
That's when the phone rang.
CN answered it.
"Hello?" asked CN.
*BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRP!!!* said Larva.
*click!* went the phone. Larva hung up on CN.
"It's Larva," explained CN. "I know him. He's not going to stop."
I groaned.
That's when the banging started again. As soon as CN would get up to tell Larva to stop, Larva would run down the hall, giggling, and finally ducking into his room in the nic of time. CN would come back to bed, and as soon as we had gotten comfortable and closed our eyes, the phone would ring again. Ignoring the phone did not work. It just kept ringing. Taking it off the hook caused it to make a very loud beeping sound. So we were forced to deal with the incessant ringing.
This went on for at least a half an hour. Banging. Ringing. Burping. Giggling. Repeat.
After round 3 of this, I had had enough. I stood up and informed CN that although Larva is his friend, I officially hate him and never wish to ever hang out with him again. And that this bullshit had to stop. Now.
CN was way ahead of me. He was even more pissed off than I was. "That's it. I'm punching him in the face. I'm going down to his room and when he opens the door, I'm clocking him," he announced.
CN went down to Larva's room. I can't remember how long he was there, since I was groggy at best. But I remember that CN came back frustrated that Larva wouldn't even answer the door. Neither would his wife, Sandra. (We found out later this was because she had PTFO.)
We tried to go back to sleep, but ended up tossing and turning for about an hour, since we were so wound up. We didn't sleep very well that night.
In the morning, we tried to get in better moods, despite Larva's lack of an apology. *grrrr* We had breakfast and then got ready for our port-of-call in Nassau. We all decided to spend $65 (each) on a 4 hour excursion and go together as a group. At 9am, we got onto a ferry for a 30 minute ride off the coast. By this point, the water was breathtaking. It looked like this, but better. I don't really know how to describe it, other than to say that all those photos you see of the Caribbean do not do the real thing any justice. The weather was perfect, and there was a nice breeze. Ahhh. So far, so good.
The ferry took us to a small island, where there was a beach, a bar, a souvenir shop and a snack shack. We had our photos taken, and then put our stuff down on some lawn chairs. Then, we went to a little roped-off area where we grabbed snorkeling equipment.
It was time to go swimming with sting rays.
Oh yes. The same animal that killed the Crocodile Hunter. Only these were de-barbed for our safety. Whew. On a side note, these animals are really creepy, so the barbs are really superfluous, IMHO.
I put on my snorkeling equipment and began swimming around the sting ray area. The creepy sting rays move like underwater birds. They tend to herd together and swim in schools. If you have ever seen a horseshoe crab, the sting ray looks like a flattened version of it! [Note: These two animals are not really related. Sting rays are related to sharks and horseshoe crabs are related to spiders and ticks. Sorry for the geek moment, folks.]
I am giddy with excitement about this whole experience. Not only were there sting rays of various sizes and colors, there were also white, blue and yellow fish. I am pretty sure some of them were Angelfish. I have gone snorkeling before, and I absolutely adore it. It's like being in a giant aquarium. So I was really enjoying this.
Until I realized........that I had no idea where my boyfriend was or if he was ok.
The same boyfriend who cannot swim.
Uh-oh.
I pulled my head up to look for him. I expected him to be in ankle-deep water, just watching everyone else, or practically drowning somewhere. He wasn't. He was only a few feet behind me, snorkeling!!! I was totally shocked. It turns out that he can sorta-kinda swim and doesn't start freaking out until the water is as deep as his chin. "Plus, the flotation device is helping," he said. (The flotation device was part of our snorkeling equipment.)
I was so proud of him.
Even if he jumped and squealed like a little girl any time one of the sting rays came close to him.
After letting us swim around for a while, the sting ray guides (keepers? handlers?) told us to line up into two lines and face each other. It was time to feed the sting rays. Cool! The sting rays must have known what the two lines meant, because they began to swim very quickly and swarm around us, rather than ignore us as they had moments before.
The guides (keepers? handlers??) then went around and handed each of us a handful of chopped up, raw squid. Um, thanks. Then they told us how to feed the sting rays by holding the squid under the water, just above the sand. The sting rays would swim over your hand and hoover up the squid parts. "They use suction to capture their food," the guide explained. Ew. Kind of like an underwater vacuum cleaner.
Thanks to my overactive imagination, the only image that came to mind was my arm, trapped inside a very angry sting ray, which was doing its best to suck the flesh off my bones as I screamed bloody murder and writhed in agony in the shallow area of this wading pool full of horrified cruise vacationers.
So when a sting ray came near me, I held the squid part under the water for a second, only to let go too soon and watch as the snack, intended for the sting ray, was snatched up by a fish. Oops. Sorry, Mr. Sting Ray. Next time, don't be so creepy, ok?
Next, I was shocked to see that some people were actually touching the sting rays. Didn't they realize they were risking their lives?? That their appendages could be shredded in an instant, much like a garbage disposal would, subjected to the unpredictable will of these shark cousins with extremely powerful suckage mechanisms in their mouths??? Were they insane???!! These are the pool drains of the animal kingdom! Keep your fingers and hair away, people!!!
"Cool! How does it feel??" I asked the guy across from me.
"Slimy!" he replied, excitedly.
"Oh, wow. I wanna touch one!" I said, suddenly forgetting my imagination's vivid and gory warnings.
The guy was right. They are slimy. Firm, but slimy. But as cool as it was, I didn't feel the need to touch them again. Once was plenty.
I looked down the line to see what CN was doing. He looked nervous and tense, and still jumped and yelped any time one of the sting rays came near. I couldn't help but laugh.
I found out later that a great deal of the yelping and jumping had to do with the fact that Larva had put squid parts in CN's pocket, so the sting rays were swarming around CN like bees.
Tee hee. As obnoxious as Larva is, I had to give him credit on that one.
After the sting rays, we had lunch and then hung out in the beach area for a little while. CN and I were enjoying the water, when we noticed a wild, fully barbed sting ray in the water. This was not one of the captive, tame ones we had just fed. It was huge, and it was headed our way.
This time, my overactive imagination threw potential newspaper headlines at me: "Couple, 29, Killed by Wild Sting Ray: 'It was just horrible to watch' witnesses say" and "Wildlife Community Warns of Vacation Danger: Man Never Had a Chance, Experts Say". So I grabbed CN's hand and practically dragged him out of the water lickety split.
"Gee, thanks, Mom," he said sarcastically.
"Shut up! I just saved your life! You can't swim!" I said.
He doesn't know that I was actually more scared of it than he was!!
Then it was time to go, so we all got back on the ferry and were, well, ferried back to our cruise ship. CN and I spent the rest of the day shopping in Nassau.
It was so nice to get off the boat, even if everything was just tshirt/souvenir shops. There was the occasional luxury goods store (Gucci, Bulgari, Fendi, Breitling), but the prices were still outrageous, even duty-free.
Like so many foreign cities around the world, escaping American culture was difficult: Ford cars on the streets, KFC was open for lunch and the U.S. Dollar was the currency. And everything was made in China. ;)
After wandering around for a while, I was very excited to see the big tent where they sell the fake designer handbags. I freaking love these things. They never look like the real thing, but they are still great-looking bags. This time, I got a big, yellow patent-leather Prada. (I will share a pic soon, promise!) I also got a small, black Coach and a large, black Coach tote. I got all three for $100. Yippee!!!!
I tell you what, if you ever go to The Bahamas, make sure you can make up your mind quickly. Everyone there is extremely pushy. They certainly do not take "no" for an answer! CN ended up buying a cigar from a kid, only to get him to shut up and go away. And they expect you to buy anything you look at longer than 5 seconds. I inspected one handbag for a good minute, only to tell the lady that I was not interested. She was really pissed and told me that I wasted her time!! "Well, you need to sell cuter fake handbags," I thought. Hmph!
By about 4pm, CN and I were pooped, so we went back to the boat and took another nice, long nap. It was the perfect end to a great day.
Friday, we were in port at Freeport. We decided not to go on any excursions that day, in order to save money. Besides, we were only there for about 7 hours, and none of the excursions sounded like they were can't-miss. Freeport is, according to all the travel websites and books I consulted, not anything worth seeing.
CN and I did look at the little tshirt shops that were literally right off the gangplank. I finally got to listen to someone speak in the local Bahamian accent. It sounds very similar to a Jamaican accent, but not as thick. After about an hour, we had seen everything there was to see, so we got back on the boat.
That night, we had our formal dinner. We went to the cocktail party beforehand, where we had yummy appetizers and drinks--all free. CN and I did a little slow dancing, which was nice (aw). For dinner, most of our group opted for the surf n turf combo: filet mignon and lobster tail. Aside from the lobster tail being rubbery and overcooked, it was good food.
Everyone changed into more comfortable clothes immediately after eating dinner, which doesn't really justify getting all dressed up to begin with. (Note to self: VB, you enjoy vacations which do not require formal wear.) Everything was going pretty well, and CN and I even managed to stay up with the rest of the group for about an hour. But by then, we were pooped, so we went to bed.
At some point that night, we were jarred awake by extremely loud banging on our door. At first, I imagined we were in the midst of some kind of Titanic-like sinking, or there was a big fire on board. CN, who was closer to the door, jumped up to see who was banging at the door.
No one was there. No one was even in the hallway.
Waking up in a panicked state is probably my least favorite thing in the whole world. So I was pretty pissed. "Stupid kids..." I mumbled, as I rolled back over to go back to sleep.
That's when the phone rang.
CN answered it.
"Hello?" asked CN.
*BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRP!!!* said Larva.
*click!* went the phone. Larva hung up on CN.
"It's Larva," explained CN. "I know him. He's not going to stop."
I groaned.
That's when the banging started again. As soon as CN would get up to tell Larva to stop, Larva would run down the hall, giggling, and finally ducking into his room in the nic of time. CN would come back to bed, and as soon as we had gotten comfortable and closed our eyes, the phone would ring again. Ignoring the phone did not work. It just kept ringing. Taking it off the hook caused it to make a very loud beeping sound. So we were forced to deal with the incessant ringing.
This went on for at least a half an hour. Banging. Ringing. Burping. Giggling. Repeat.
After round 3 of this, I had had enough. I stood up and informed CN that although Larva is his friend, I officially hate him and never wish to ever hang out with him again. And that this bullshit had to stop. Now.
CN was way ahead of me. He was even more pissed off than I was. "That's it. I'm punching him in the face. I'm going down to his room and when he opens the door, I'm clocking him," he announced.
CN went down to Larva's room. I can't remember how long he was there, since I was groggy at best. But I remember that CN came back frustrated that Larva wouldn't even answer the door. Neither would his wife, Sandra. (We found out later this was because she had PTFO.)
We tried to go back to sleep, but ended up tossing and turning for about an hour, since we were so wound up. We didn't sleep very well that night.
In the morning, we tried to get in better moods, despite Larva's lack of an apology. *grrrr* We had breakfast and then got ready for our port-of-call in Nassau. We all decided to spend $65 (each) on a 4 hour excursion and go together as a group. At 9am, we got onto a ferry for a 30 minute ride off the coast. By this point, the water was breathtaking. It looked like this, but better. I don't really know how to describe it, other than to say that all those photos you see of the Caribbean do not do the real thing any justice. The weather was perfect, and there was a nice breeze. Ahhh. So far, so good.
The ferry took us to a small island, where there was a beach, a bar, a souvenir shop and a snack shack. We had our photos taken, and then put our stuff down on some lawn chairs. Then, we went to a little roped-off area where we grabbed snorkeling equipment.
It was time to go swimming with sting rays.
Oh yes. The same animal that killed the Crocodile Hunter. Only these were de-barbed for our safety. Whew. On a side note, these animals are really creepy, so the barbs are really superfluous, IMHO.
I put on my snorkeling equipment and began swimming around the sting ray area. The creepy sting rays move like underwater birds. They tend to herd together and swim in schools. If you have ever seen a horseshoe crab, the sting ray looks like a flattened version of it! [Note: These two animals are not really related. Sting rays are related to sharks and horseshoe crabs are related to spiders and ticks. Sorry for the geek moment, folks.]
I am giddy with excitement about this whole experience. Not only were there sting rays of various sizes and colors, there were also white, blue and yellow fish. I am pretty sure some of them were Angelfish. I have gone snorkeling before, and I absolutely adore it. It's like being in a giant aquarium. So I was really enjoying this.
Until I realized........that I had no idea where my boyfriend was or if he was ok.
The same boyfriend who cannot swim.
Uh-oh.
I pulled my head up to look for him. I expected him to be in ankle-deep water, just watching everyone else, or practically drowning somewhere. He wasn't. He was only a few feet behind me, snorkeling!!! I was totally shocked. It turns out that he can sorta-kinda swim and doesn't start freaking out until the water is as deep as his chin. "Plus, the flotation device is helping," he said. (The flotation device was part of our snorkeling equipment.)
I was so proud of him.
Even if he jumped and squealed like a little girl any time one of the sting rays came close to him.
After letting us swim around for a while, the sting ray guides (keepers? handlers?) told us to line up into two lines and face each other. It was time to feed the sting rays. Cool! The sting rays must have known what the two lines meant, because they began to swim very quickly and swarm around us, rather than ignore us as they had moments before.
The guides (keepers? handlers??) then went around and handed each of us a handful of chopped up, raw squid. Um, thanks. Then they told us how to feed the sting rays by holding the squid under the water, just above the sand. The sting rays would swim over your hand and hoover up the squid parts. "They use suction to capture their food," the guide explained. Ew. Kind of like an underwater vacuum cleaner.
Thanks to my overactive imagination, the only image that came to mind was my arm, trapped inside a very angry sting ray, which was doing its best to suck the flesh off my bones as I screamed bloody murder and writhed in agony in the shallow area of this wading pool full of horrified cruise vacationers.
So when a sting ray came near me, I held the squid part under the water for a second, only to let go too soon and watch as the snack, intended for the sting ray, was snatched up by a fish. Oops. Sorry, Mr. Sting Ray. Next time, don't be so creepy, ok?
Next, I was shocked to see that some people were actually touching the sting rays. Didn't they realize they were risking their lives?? That their appendages could be shredded in an instant, much like a garbage disposal would, subjected to the unpredictable will of these shark cousins with extremely powerful suckage mechanisms in their mouths??? Were they insane???!! These are the pool drains of the animal kingdom! Keep your fingers and hair away, people!!!
"Cool! How does it feel??" I asked the guy across from me.
"Slimy!" he replied, excitedly.
"Oh, wow. I wanna touch one!" I said, suddenly forgetting my imagination's vivid and gory warnings.
The guy was right. They are slimy. Firm, but slimy. But as cool as it was, I didn't feel the need to touch them again. Once was plenty.
I looked down the line to see what CN was doing. He looked nervous and tense, and still jumped and yelped any time one of the sting rays came near. I couldn't help but laugh.
I found out later that a great deal of the yelping and jumping had to do with the fact that Larva had put squid parts in CN's pocket, so the sting rays were swarming around CN like bees.
Tee hee. As obnoxious as Larva is, I had to give him credit on that one.
After the sting rays, we had lunch and then hung out in the beach area for a little while. CN and I were enjoying the water, when we noticed a wild, fully barbed sting ray in the water. This was not one of the captive, tame ones we had just fed. It was huge, and it was headed our way.
This time, my overactive imagination threw potential newspaper headlines at me: "Couple, 29, Killed by Wild Sting Ray: 'It was just horrible to watch' witnesses say" and "Wildlife Community Warns of Vacation Danger: Man Never Had a Chance, Experts Say". So I grabbed CN's hand and practically dragged him out of the water lickety split.
"Gee, thanks, Mom," he said sarcastically.
"Shut up! I just saved your life! You can't swim!" I said.
He doesn't know that I was actually more scared of it than he was!!
Then it was time to go, so we all got back on the ferry and were, well, ferried back to our cruise ship. CN and I spent the rest of the day shopping in Nassau.
It was so nice to get off the boat, even if everything was just tshirt/souvenir shops. There was the occasional luxury goods store (Gucci, Bulgari, Fendi, Breitling), but the prices were still outrageous, even duty-free.
Like so many foreign cities around the world, escaping American culture was difficult: Ford cars on the streets, KFC was open for lunch and the U.S. Dollar was the currency. And everything was made in China. ;)
After wandering around for a while, I was very excited to see the big tent where they sell the fake designer handbags. I freaking love these things. They never look like the real thing, but they are still great-looking bags. This time, I got a big, yellow patent-leather Prada. (I will share a pic soon, promise!) I also got a small, black Coach and a large, black Coach tote. I got all three for $100. Yippee!!!!
I tell you what, if you ever go to The Bahamas, make sure you can make up your mind quickly. Everyone there is extremely pushy. They certainly do not take "no" for an answer! CN ended up buying a cigar from a kid, only to get him to shut up and go away. And they expect you to buy anything you look at longer than 5 seconds. I inspected one handbag for a good minute, only to tell the lady that I was not interested. She was really pissed and told me that I wasted her time!! "Well, you need to sell cuter fake handbags," I thought. Hmph!
By about 4pm, CN and I were pooped, so we went back to the boat and took another nice, long nap. It was the perfect end to a great day.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Cruise Preparations
Most of this weekend was spent prepping for my upcoming vacation.
Friday night, I went shopping with MJ, who helped me pick out some cheap-o hair dye (my roots were bugging me, and I didn't want to be all rooty in my cruise photos). I got some hair products to protect my highlights from fading in the almost-Equator sun and a cute black bikini from Target. (I love bikinis with little shorts on the bottom!)
Then we went to dinner to discuss her new guy. Since I am now happily hooked up, I live vicariously through her single-girl love life. So this new guy is from Myrtle Beach and works for the same company MJ does, just the Myrtle Beach branch of it. So it's not like they technically work together, which I thought was good. So far, they are just enjoying each other's company. MJ doesn't sound like she's looking to jump into a relationship right now. Besides, he was engaged to his last girlfriend, and took the breakup kind of hard. I'm sure he isn't looking to jump into anything, either. But apparently, he's a hottie and she's really enjoying having someone to flirt with. Woo hoo! Go MJ!
Saturday, CN and I went shopping. On our list: swim trunks for him, a beach hat for me, sunblock, body lotion with the self-tanner built in, travel sized goodies and ear plugs (in case our cabin is loud). Aside from the beach hat, we got everything on our list. CN wants to know why he isn't allowed to use my self-tanner body lotion, and I explain to him that it is for girls and that he will have to be rugged and manly and just get his tan the old-fashioned way. Which should be entertaining, because he makes Nicole Kidman look tan. (I made sure to stock up on SPF 55 for him!) I tried to get CN to buy some water wings, since he can't swim, but he didn't go for that idea, even when I tried to bribe him with my self-tanner lotion. We are going to pack a lot of that blue sunburn aloe gel stuff, too. I think we will end up needing some....between his transparent skin and my "D'oh!" moments in the sun safety department, this is probably a good idea.
I was pretty let down in the hat department. I want a wide-brimmed straw hat that will keep the sun off my ears, face, neck and shoulders. I could only find church-style hats with voluminous bows and feathers or inadequate baseball caps. Arg. This might really cramp my style, sunburn-wise. Plus, I wanted to have my very own Pretty Woman moment, with my elegant, chic movie-star beach hat. When paired with big sunglasses, I'd be glamorous AND mysterious. Oh well. That fantasy will have to wait.
Shoot. Just realized I don't have an adequate bathing suit cover-up. Hmmm. Will have to come up with something. I have some shorts...
Yesterday, I decided to tackle my back yard. It was full -- FULL -- of weeds. If I didn't do something quickly, it would become a small Amazon rain forest by the time I get home from my cruise. Because he is awesome, and because the Braves game was inexplicably not televised (yessss), CN helped me. I think making him a big pancake breakfast helped my cause. While weeding, I screeched every time we came across a cricket. I hate crickets. We found two fire ant mounds (and sprinkled with ant killer accordingly). We found 2 little frogs and 2 spider egg sacs (we left them alone, because spiders eat crickets). I was happy to see lots of ladybugs and wormy things in the dirt. I know those are good signs....of something.
"Wow! This is quite a little nature adventure, isn't it?" I said. "Hey, babe, is this grass or a weed?"
"You're not much of an outdoors gal, are you?" he laughed.
"Um, no. Not really. I figured that growing up on a farm, I've done my time with Mother Nature," I replied.
"That's a weed," he explained, yanking it out of the ground.
"But it looks like grass," I said.
He sighed and laughed at me again. Apparently, I am a little rusty on Mother Nature stuff.
Three hours, two trash bags and three filled trash tubs later, my backyard was 90% weeded. And that is good enough for me. By 5pm, I was filthy, I had a farmer's sunburn (oops!) and was totally exhausted. My poor hands are trashed. I had started out wearing work gloves, but didn't feel the blisters on my fingers until it was too late. I took them off to realize that I have four skinned knuckles, and they hurt. I have washed my hands a million times, and I cannot get the dirt and green color out from under my fingernails. My hands are still red and swollen from all the work. They ache. I have new sympathy for those in the lawn care industry. And I vow to never EVER let my yard get that bad again. (Does anyone know how I can make my hands feel better, softer and cleaner??? I really tore them up!)
After a long, cool shower, CN and I watched tv the rest of the day. I took a nice nap on his lap. Although I was tired, I did run home to make him a salmon quesadilla for dinner, since I was so grateful for his help.
All I have left to do is: go to the bank to get some cash, clean my house, return a bottle of sunblock (I don't think I will need four...), paint my toenails, drop Sammy off at MJ's house, bake a cake for MJ to express my gratitude, burn a CD for the drive to Jacksonville and pack!
WHEW. I'm glad I took Wednesday off. I will need a whole day to do all that!
Friday night, I went shopping with MJ, who helped me pick out some cheap-o hair dye (my roots were bugging me, and I didn't want to be all rooty in my cruise photos). I got some hair products to protect my highlights from fading in the almost-Equator sun and a cute black bikini from Target. (I love bikinis with little shorts on the bottom!)
Then we went to dinner to discuss her new guy. Since I am now happily hooked up, I live vicariously through her single-girl love life. So this new guy is from Myrtle Beach and works for the same company MJ does, just the Myrtle Beach branch of it. So it's not like they technically work together, which I thought was good. So far, they are just enjoying each other's company. MJ doesn't sound like she's looking to jump into a relationship right now. Besides, he was engaged to his last girlfriend, and took the breakup kind of hard. I'm sure he isn't looking to jump into anything, either. But apparently, he's a hottie and she's really enjoying having someone to flirt with. Woo hoo! Go MJ!
Saturday, CN and I went shopping. On our list: swim trunks for him, a beach hat for me, sunblock, body lotion with the self-tanner built in, travel sized goodies and ear plugs (in case our cabin is loud). Aside from the beach hat, we got everything on our list. CN wants to know why he isn't allowed to use my self-tanner body lotion, and I explain to him that it is for girls and that he will have to be rugged and manly and just get his tan the old-fashioned way. Which should be entertaining, because he makes Nicole Kidman look tan. (I made sure to stock up on SPF 55 for him!) I tried to get CN to buy some water wings, since he can't swim, but he didn't go for that idea, even when I tried to bribe him with my self-tanner lotion. We are going to pack a lot of that blue sunburn aloe gel stuff, too. I think we will end up needing some....between his transparent skin and my "D'oh!" moments in the sun safety department, this is probably a good idea.
I was pretty let down in the hat department. I want a wide-brimmed straw hat that will keep the sun off my ears, face, neck and shoulders. I could only find church-style hats with voluminous bows and feathers or inadequate baseball caps. Arg. This might really cramp my style, sunburn-wise. Plus, I wanted to have my very own Pretty Woman moment, with my elegant, chic movie-star beach hat. When paired with big sunglasses, I'd be glamorous AND mysterious. Oh well. That fantasy will have to wait.
Shoot. Just realized I don't have an adequate bathing suit cover-up. Hmmm. Will have to come up with something. I have some shorts...
Yesterday, I decided to tackle my back yard. It was full -- FULL -- of weeds. If I didn't do something quickly, it would become a small Amazon rain forest by the time I get home from my cruise. Because he is awesome, and because the Braves game was inexplicably not televised (yessss), CN helped me. I think making him a big pancake breakfast helped my cause. While weeding, I screeched every time we came across a cricket. I hate crickets. We found two fire ant mounds (and sprinkled with ant killer accordingly). We found 2 little frogs and 2 spider egg sacs (we left them alone, because spiders eat crickets). I was happy to see lots of ladybugs and wormy things in the dirt. I know those are good signs....of something.
"Wow! This is quite a little nature adventure, isn't it?" I said. "Hey, babe, is this grass or a weed?"
"You're not much of an outdoors gal, are you?" he laughed.
"Um, no. Not really. I figured that growing up on a farm, I've done my time with Mother Nature," I replied.
"That's a weed," he explained, yanking it out of the ground.
"But it looks like grass," I said.
He sighed and laughed at me again. Apparently, I am a little rusty on Mother Nature stuff.
Three hours, two trash bags and three filled trash tubs later, my backyard was 90% weeded. And that is good enough for me. By 5pm, I was filthy, I had a farmer's sunburn (oops!) and was totally exhausted. My poor hands are trashed. I had started out wearing work gloves, but didn't feel the blisters on my fingers until it was too late. I took them off to realize that I have four skinned knuckles, and they hurt. I have washed my hands a million times, and I cannot get the dirt and green color out from under my fingernails. My hands are still red and swollen from all the work. They ache. I have new sympathy for those in the lawn care industry. And I vow to never EVER let my yard get that bad again. (Does anyone know how I can make my hands feel better, softer and cleaner??? I really tore them up!)
After a long, cool shower, CN and I watched tv the rest of the day. I took a nice nap on his lap. Although I was tired, I did run home to make him a salmon quesadilla for dinner, since I was so grateful for his help.
All I have left to do is: go to the bank to get some cash, clean my house, return a bottle of sunblock (I don't think I will need four...), paint my toenails, drop Sammy off at MJ's house, bake a cake for MJ to express my gratitude, burn a CD for the drive to Jacksonville and pack!
WHEW. I'm glad I took Wednesday off. I will need a whole day to do all that!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Another Conversation with My Brain
So I have a problem. And only a guy can help me with it.
Ew, stop right there! I know what you are thinking. Pervert!
Ok, actually, I guess I would need help with that, too, at this point.....
*sigh* Being a perv who can't get any is tough. The jokes aren't as funny after a while.
Alright, back to the story. The problem is, I need to change my air filter, and I am too short to reach it. I need a guy to change it for me. And Hot Neighbor is out of town, not to mention, he's got that stupid girlfriend who doesn't seem to understand that he's supposed to be dating me. That leaves my next most obvious potential air filter changer: Cute Neighbor.
Cue the next Conversation with My Brain.
So last night, at about 8:30, I told Shy to shut the hell up and walked over to his house to ask if he could help me out with this little problem.
"Oh God. You're outside. You're really going to do this, aren't you?" said Shy, trembling.
"Dude, he's going to be SO stoked that you are asking him for help. You are cute and single and friendly. What guy wouldn't want to help you with your air filter? It takes all of 3 seconds. Afterwards, you two are going to have a nice chat and then he will ask you out!" said Confident.
Stupidly Optimistic agreed wholeheartedly. "Don't forget to offer him a beer and invite him over for dinner!"
"Yeah, and your boobs look big in that t-shirt," said Pervert.
"If he invites you in this time, you should go in and suck his face off!" chimed Horny.
"This is a bad idea. He's going to think you're a weirdo. Or worse, that you are interested in him," said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"DO NOT give that impression!" shrieked Single Girl.
"Oh. My. God. You're really doing this, aren't you? There's still time to change your mind, you know," said Shy.
"SHUT UP, SHY!!!" everyone shouted. (Everyone hates Shy. They think she's stupid. To be honest, she is pretty annoying.)
I knocked on the door. "That wasn't very loud. There's no way he will hear that," said Good Point.
"Wait! Is that him inside, making that noise? He's probably looking out the window right now to see who it is. Don't look!!!" said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Dude, where is he? It doesn't take this long to answer a door!" said Impatient.
"Can't we just forget this? I'm tired," said Diet & Exercise. (I was pooped from my trip to the gym)
"Yeah, I think we're missing Forensic Files," said Nerd.
"She just didn't knock loud enough. But I think maybe she did that on purpose, because if she doesn't get a chance to talk to him, then she doesn't have a chance to mess things up," said Over-Analytical.
"Ooh, you might be on to something, for once," said Good Point.
"He's taking a long time because he doesn't know if he wants to talk to you. He's watching you right now, trying to decide if you are normal or if you are stalking him. This was one of your more genius ideas, I must say," said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Oh crap, how does your hair look? Are you standing so that your good side is facing him when he opens the door? Just try and look nonchalant. And remember to smile," said Single Girl.
"What is the big deal? Jeez Louise, you aren't asking for the moon! But you could stand up a little straighter. Stop slouching," said Inner Mom Voice.
"Ok, fine. Do it. See if I care. Shit, go ahead and knock loud as hell. But have you considered what, exactly, you are going to say?" asked Shy.
"She's going to say something charming and brilliant, and possibly even hysterically funny, if you must know," said Confident.
"No! No! Say something which lets him know you want to get in his pants! Flirt your ass off! Wink! Touch his arm! It's your big chance!" yelled Horny and Pervert.
"Ok, you are going to have to knock again. I don't think he heard you," said Good Point.
"Oh he heard her. He got up, looked out his window, thought, 'This crazy bitch is stalking me!' and sat back down. That's what happened," said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Maybe we are here at a bad time? Perhaps he's sleeping or on an important phone call," said Good Point.
"Or he thinks you're the FBI, coming to arrest him!" said Overactive Imagination.
"Or he's watching porn!" said Pervert.
"Tee hee!" giggled Horny.
Impatient sighed. "Can we go now? This is stupid."
"What I want to know is, how long are you going to stand here on his doorstep like an idiot. Anyone want to put some money on this?" said Cynical.
"You fool! Run!!!!" said Panic.
So I quickly walked back to my house and shut the door behind me.
"Gosh I'm glad you said that, Panic!" exclaimed Shy.
"You don't deserve those tits. I think you need to donate them to someone who might actually USE them," Cynical said.
"You are totally pathetic. I am so disappointed in you. You need to take advantage of the ideas I plant in your head, you know. I don't come up with good ones every day," said Single Girl.
"Seriously, are ANY of you even surprised at this point? I mean, come on, look who we're dealing with," said Pity Party.
"I told you this was a bad idea!!!" shouted Shy.
"Ok, so we weren't super confident today. That's ok, we will just try again when you get home from work tomorrow! Maybe we put too much pressure on ourselves. Tomorrow we will be calm and more confident. You can do this, I know you can," said Confident.
"Dude, come on. You know he wants you," said Stupidly Optimistic.
"Can we watch Forensic Files now?" asked Nerd.
"Yes. Please. I need some peace and quiet. Even if it involves learning about how some husband in Michigan chopped up his wife with his wood chipper. Anything, if only y'all will SHUT UP," I said.
Ew, stop right there! I know what you are thinking. Pervert!
Ok, actually, I guess I would need help with that, too, at this point.....
*sigh* Being a perv who can't get any is tough. The jokes aren't as funny after a while.
Alright, back to the story. The problem is, I need to change my air filter, and I am too short to reach it. I need a guy to change it for me. And Hot Neighbor is out of town, not to mention, he's got that stupid girlfriend who doesn't seem to understand that he's supposed to be dating me. That leaves my next most obvious potential air filter changer: Cute Neighbor.
Cue the next Conversation with My Brain.
So last night, at about 8:30, I told Shy to shut the hell up and walked over to his house to ask if he could help me out with this little problem.
"Oh God. You're outside. You're really going to do this, aren't you?" said Shy, trembling.
"Dude, he's going to be SO stoked that you are asking him for help. You are cute and single and friendly. What guy wouldn't want to help you with your air filter? It takes all of 3 seconds. Afterwards, you two are going to have a nice chat and then he will ask you out!" said Confident.
Stupidly Optimistic agreed wholeheartedly. "Don't forget to offer him a beer and invite him over for dinner!"
"Yeah, and your boobs look big in that t-shirt," said Pervert.
"If he invites you in this time, you should go in and suck his face off!" chimed Horny.
"This is a bad idea. He's going to think you're a weirdo. Or worse, that you are interested in him," said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"DO NOT give that impression!" shrieked Single Girl.
"Oh. My. God. You're really doing this, aren't you? There's still time to change your mind, you know," said Shy.
"SHUT UP, SHY!!!" everyone shouted. (Everyone hates Shy. They think she's stupid. To be honest, she is pretty annoying.)
I knocked on the door. "That wasn't very loud. There's no way he will hear that," said Good Point.
"Wait! Is that him inside, making that noise? He's probably looking out the window right now to see who it is. Don't look!!!" said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Dude, where is he? It doesn't take this long to answer a door!" said Impatient.
"Can't we just forget this? I'm tired," said Diet & Exercise. (I was pooped from my trip to the gym)
"Yeah, I think we're missing Forensic Files," said Nerd.
"She just didn't knock loud enough. But I think maybe she did that on purpose, because if she doesn't get a chance to talk to him, then she doesn't have a chance to mess things up," said Over-Analytical.
"Ooh, you might be on to something, for once," said Good Point.
"He's taking a long time because he doesn't know if he wants to talk to you. He's watching you right now, trying to decide if you are normal or if you are stalking him. This was one of your more genius ideas, I must say," said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Oh crap, how does your hair look? Are you standing so that your good side is facing him when he opens the door? Just try and look nonchalant. And remember to smile," said Single Girl.
"What is the big deal? Jeez Louise, you aren't asking for the moon! But you could stand up a little straighter. Stop slouching," said Inner Mom Voice.
"Ok, fine. Do it. See if I care. Shit, go ahead and knock loud as hell. But have you considered what, exactly, you are going to say?" asked Shy.
"She's going to say something charming and brilliant, and possibly even hysterically funny, if you must know," said Confident.
"No! No! Say something which lets him know you want to get in his pants! Flirt your ass off! Wink! Touch his arm! It's your big chance!" yelled Horny and Pervert.
"Ok, you are going to have to knock again. I don't think he heard you," said Good Point.
"Oh he heard her. He got up, looked out his window, thought, 'This crazy bitch is stalking me!' and sat back down. That's what happened," said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Maybe we are here at a bad time? Perhaps he's sleeping or on an important phone call," said Good Point.
"Or he thinks you're the FBI, coming to arrest him!" said Overactive Imagination.
"Or he's watching porn!" said Pervert.
"Tee hee!" giggled Horny.
Impatient sighed. "Can we go now? This is stupid."
"What I want to know is, how long are you going to stand here on his doorstep like an idiot. Anyone want to put some money on this?" said Cynical.
"You fool! Run!!!!" said Panic.
So I quickly walked back to my house and shut the door behind me.
"Gosh I'm glad you said that, Panic!" exclaimed Shy.
"You don't deserve those tits. I think you need to donate them to someone who might actually USE them," Cynical said.
"You are totally pathetic. I am so disappointed in you. You need to take advantage of the ideas I plant in your head, you know. I don't come up with good ones every day," said Single Girl.
"Seriously, are ANY of you even surprised at this point? I mean, come on, look who we're dealing with," said Pity Party.
"I told you this was a bad idea!!!" shouted Shy.
"Ok, so we weren't super confident today. That's ok, we will just try again when you get home from work tomorrow! Maybe we put too much pressure on ourselves. Tomorrow we will be calm and more confident. You can do this, I know you can," said Confident.
"Dude, come on. You know he wants you," said Stupidly Optimistic.
"Can we watch Forensic Files now?" asked Nerd.
"Yes. Please. I need some peace and quiet. Even if it involves learning about how some husband in Michigan chopped up his wife with his wood chipper. Anything, if only y'all will SHUT UP," I said.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Conversations with My Brain
I promise I'm alive!
It's just that aside from working on my Big Secret Project, I don't have a lot going on right now. And I really need a break from the Southern Culture posts. I will do more, but for now, I need to stop. It takes me so long to assemble each one of those posts -- being the geeky librarian that I am, I have to do research before posting them.
And it gets tiring. Sometimes you just want to log in and start writing, you know?
After much writing, rambling, editing, deleting and small-decision-making (I have written and re-written this post about 3 times today), I have decided to devote this post to introducing you to a new guy in VB World.
Don't get excited.
Good grief, how long have you been reading me? You should know better than to EVER get excited when I talk about guys on here. Calm down. Nothing happened. Nothing EVER happens. This will probably be the only time I even mention this guy. This post is only being written so that you can laugh at me. I'm in a self-deprecating mood today. Trust me, if something cool happened, the post title would tell you. I promise. Can I continue, please? Are we all calm now? Ok.
Allow me to introduce a new character: Cute Neighbor.
Not only do I have Hot Neighbor, I have Cute Neighbor. Oh yes, I am one lucky girl. 2 hotties on my street, and I have yet to spend more than 5 minutes with either one of them. Awesome. I think I can officially give Bridget Jones a run for her money now.
While most girls would have either dated, screwed or at least knocked back a few beers with neighborhood hotties at this point, I am relegated to spying on both of them through my window blinds, wondering what they are doing, where they are going, and why they are not naked in my bedroom. Just another normal day in VB World. My abilities astound me sometimes. I should get in touch with Cosmo. They could write an article inspired by me: "How to be Totally Pathetic".
Cute Neighbor lives directly across the street from me. When I moved in, my real estate agent informed me that she had grown up with him. Since I hadn't laid eyes on him yet, I didn't pump her for info. But I don't remember her saying anything bad. Perhaps I should ask her about him....hmmmm....
This is what I have observed (yes, through my window blinds) so far: He drives a Jeep, plays golf, works out and plays the drums. He never ever has people over, which seems odd to me, but he does go out on weekends sometimes. He dresses normally. He likes to wash his car and takes good care of his lawn. He can change his own oil, which is major points in my book.
He also has gorgeous eyes. And has a kind of geeky vibe going on. Very pale skin. Gives it away every time. Luckily, the older I get, the better geeky guys sound to me.
How do I know he has gorgeous eyes? Why, because I brought him some cookies one day, about 3 weeks ago. When I get bored, I bake. And since I'm on a diet, I can never keep the stuff in the house. So I give it away to the first person I see. But this was a lazy Sunday, and I didn't have any plans on seeing my friends. So I decided to play Nice Neighbor and go door-to-door, handing out cookies to my neighbors. That's when I met Cute Neighbor. I had (obviously) seen him around, but had never gotten a good look at him. Which meant he had never gotten a good look at me, either. Hmmm. How 'bout that.....
I changed into a jean skirt, reapplied my lip gloss, sprayed on some body spray and began playing Neighborhood Girl Scout.
Eventually, I walked over to his house, noticed how nice and green his yard is (far, far different than mine!) and knocked. He opened the door, and I noticed, in true "guy form", he had apparently never decorated anything. He was a little taller than me, had dark hair and these incredible green eyes. Cool.
"Hi, I'm Virginia, from across the street," I said, smiling.
"Hi, I'm Cute Neighbor," he said, also smiling. He shook my hand. Nice and firm. This is good.
I explained why I was knocking on his door, and he eagerly grabbed 3 cookies and said thank you. As we talked, he ate one of the cookies--he couldn't seem to wait. "Note to Self," I thought. "He is apparently in desperate need of homemade baked goods." We talked about his yard, our neighborhood and how he had meant to meet more of his neighbors. He mentioned that because of work, he has crazy hours. But he didn't say what he did for a living, and I always feel it's rude to ask people what they do. Especially when I'm a single girl talking to a (presumably) single guy. So I don't know what he does. But he wears a suit sometimes. That's all I know.
"Hey, you wanna come in?" he said. That's when I got "The Look". You know what I'm talking about, ladies. That look that guys give you when they are checking you out, but they are trying to hide that fact from you. The look that lets you know they like what they're seeing. It's very fleeting, but it's quite an ego booster, I must say. I don't think guys even realize they do it. It's that subtle. Yet unmistakable.
This momentary expression on his face sent my brain, and all of its parts, into a tizzy.
The Diet/Exercise part of my brain said:
"Hey, those trips to the gym are really paying off! Sweet! Maybe I will start getting this look all the time. If I doubled up on my workouts, at this rate...."
Horny interrupted and said:
"Oooh! Yes! Go inside! Maybe you can make out on his couch! Go for it, VB!"
Single Girl said:
"Don't do it! Play hard to get! Tell him you have a date or something. This is too easy. Make him work for it a little more. Ooooh. Nice eyes. Keep talking to him so you can look in his eyes some more. Just make up something. Keep talking. Maybe he'll ask you out. Hey, it looks like he's got decent arms, too. Say something funny so he will fall in love with you instantly. He's probably already intrigued from the cookies. Keeeeeeeep talking........."
Horny said: "Yeah! Nice eyes! Jump his bones! Like he's gonna protest!"
Cynical said:
"This guy just wants more cookies. He's greedy. He thinks that if he can get you inside, you will offer him more cookies."
"Hell yeah, she's gonna offer up some cookies!" Horny said.
"He's got a girlfriend and he's just going to cheat on her right now, with you, because he's got the chance. Men are assholes, and he's no different," warned Bitter.
"No, no, no. He's obviously either a porn addict or some Dungeons & Dragons geek. Look at that pale, transparent skin. He hasn't stepped away from his X-box or computer monitor in 4 months. No wonder no one ever comes to see him. All his friends are online," said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Did you say 'porn'?" Horny asked.
"But he seems normal. And total super geeks don't drive Jeeps or play the drums. He's probably super cool. I bet you two have lots in common. You should have a lasagna supper and invite him over. Come on, you've been meaning to have a lasagna dinner for a while. This is a great opportunity!" said Stupidly Optimistic.
Then Overactive Imagination said:
"No.........wait. Going into a seemingly-normal stranger's house? That's how girls disappear. Everyone thought Ted Bundy was normal, too. You don't know him. Maybe he buries women in his backyard. You know, he never has people over. It all makes sense now. His backyard is probably lumpy from all the graves. That's why no one ever comes to his house. His secret would be revealed. Can't you picture the headlines now? Cookie-bearing Woman Disappears: Neighborhood Shocked, Police Want to Question Male Neighbor. And then, two weeks later: Man Buried Local Women in Backyard."
And then Reality, which luckily took over after hearing what Overactive had to say, said out loud:
"Oh, I'd love to, but I can't. I'm actually on my way out."
Which was totally true. I had a gym class to catch. I said goodbye and left my house 5 minutes later.
True to form, he and I haven't spoken a word since. Almost Girl strikes again! The girl who gets checked out sometimes, but never asked out. If this keeps up, I might have to change the name of this blog. You think I'm kidding.
So, what do you think? Did I screw up? Should I have gone into his house? Did he think I was turning him down? Can I remedy the situation? I feel I made the first move and now it's his turn. Perhaps I'm being too stubborn or old-fashioned. Maybe I should make more cookies.......he seemed to like them the first time. Am I just totally pathetic? Maybe I didn't get The Look. Maybe I got an Almost Look. Or maybe he just had indigestion? Or is he maybe thinking along the lines of "don't dig in your own backyard", so to speak?
Arg. I would give anything to hear the conversations he has with his brain. I wonder how it would go...
It's just that aside from working on my Big Secret Project, I don't have a lot going on right now. And I really need a break from the Southern Culture posts. I will do more, but for now, I need to stop. It takes me so long to assemble each one of those posts -- being the geeky librarian that I am, I have to do research before posting them.
And it gets tiring. Sometimes you just want to log in and start writing, you know?
After much writing, rambling, editing, deleting and small-decision-making (I have written and re-written this post about 3 times today), I have decided to devote this post to introducing you to a new guy in VB World.
Don't get excited.
Good grief, how long have you been reading me? You should know better than to EVER get excited when I talk about guys on here. Calm down. Nothing happened. Nothing EVER happens. This will probably be the only time I even mention this guy. This post is only being written so that you can laugh at me. I'm in a self-deprecating mood today. Trust me, if something cool happened, the post title would tell you. I promise. Can I continue, please? Are we all calm now? Ok.
Allow me to introduce a new character: Cute Neighbor.
Not only do I have Hot Neighbor, I have Cute Neighbor. Oh yes, I am one lucky girl. 2 hotties on my street, and I have yet to spend more than 5 minutes with either one of them. Awesome. I think I can officially give Bridget Jones a run for her money now.
While most girls would have either dated, screwed or at least knocked back a few beers with neighborhood hotties at this point, I am relegated to spying on both of them through my window blinds, wondering what they are doing, where they are going, and why they are not naked in my bedroom. Just another normal day in VB World. My abilities astound me sometimes. I should get in touch with Cosmo. They could write an article inspired by me: "How to be Totally Pathetic".
Cute Neighbor lives directly across the street from me. When I moved in, my real estate agent informed me that she had grown up with him. Since I hadn't laid eyes on him yet, I didn't pump her for info. But I don't remember her saying anything bad. Perhaps I should ask her about him....hmmmm....
This is what I have observed (yes, through my window blinds) so far: He drives a Jeep, plays golf, works out and plays the drums. He never ever has people over, which seems odd to me, but he does go out on weekends sometimes. He dresses normally. He likes to wash his car and takes good care of his lawn. He can change his own oil, which is major points in my book.
He also has gorgeous eyes. And has a kind of geeky vibe going on. Very pale skin. Gives it away every time. Luckily, the older I get, the better geeky guys sound to me.
How do I know he has gorgeous eyes? Why, because I brought him some cookies one day, about 3 weeks ago. When I get bored, I bake. And since I'm on a diet, I can never keep the stuff in the house. So I give it away to the first person I see. But this was a lazy Sunday, and I didn't have any plans on seeing my friends. So I decided to play Nice Neighbor and go door-to-door, handing out cookies to my neighbors. That's when I met Cute Neighbor. I had (obviously) seen him around, but had never gotten a good look at him. Which meant he had never gotten a good look at me, either. Hmmm. How 'bout that.....
I changed into a jean skirt, reapplied my lip gloss, sprayed on some body spray and began playing Neighborhood Girl Scout.
Eventually, I walked over to his house, noticed how nice and green his yard is (far, far different than mine!) and knocked. He opened the door, and I noticed, in true "guy form", he had apparently never decorated anything. He was a little taller than me, had dark hair and these incredible green eyes. Cool.
"Hi, I'm Virginia, from across the street," I said, smiling.
"Hi, I'm Cute Neighbor," he said, also smiling. He shook my hand. Nice and firm. This is good.
I explained why I was knocking on his door, and he eagerly grabbed 3 cookies and said thank you. As we talked, he ate one of the cookies--he couldn't seem to wait. "Note to Self," I thought. "He is apparently in desperate need of homemade baked goods." We talked about his yard, our neighborhood and how he had meant to meet more of his neighbors. He mentioned that because of work, he has crazy hours. But he didn't say what he did for a living, and I always feel it's rude to ask people what they do. Especially when I'm a single girl talking to a (presumably) single guy. So I don't know what he does. But he wears a suit sometimes. That's all I know.
"Hey, you wanna come in?" he said. That's when I got "The Look". You know what I'm talking about, ladies. That look that guys give you when they are checking you out, but they are trying to hide that fact from you. The look that lets you know they like what they're seeing. It's very fleeting, but it's quite an ego booster, I must say. I don't think guys even realize they do it. It's that subtle. Yet unmistakable.
This momentary expression on his face sent my brain, and all of its parts, into a tizzy.
The Diet/Exercise part of my brain said:
"Hey, those trips to the gym are really paying off! Sweet! Maybe I will start getting this look all the time. If I doubled up on my workouts, at this rate...."
Horny interrupted and said:
"Oooh! Yes! Go inside! Maybe you can make out on his couch! Go for it, VB!"
Single Girl said:
"Don't do it! Play hard to get! Tell him you have a date or something. This is too easy. Make him work for it a little more. Ooooh. Nice eyes. Keep talking to him so you can look in his eyes some more. Just make up something. Keep talking. Maybe he'll ask you out. Hey, it looks like he's got decent arms, too. Say something funny so he will fall in love with you instantly. He's probably already intrigued from the cookies. Keeeeeeeep talking........."
Horny said: "Yeah! Nice eyes! Jump his bones! Like he's gonna protest!"
Cynical said:
"This guy just wants more cookies. He's greedy. He thinks that if he can get you inside, you will offer him more cookies."
"Hell yeah, she's gonna offer up some cookies!" Horny said.
"He's got a girlfriend and he's just going to cheat on her right now, with you, because he's got the chance. Men are assholes, and he's no different," warned Bitter.
"No, no, no. He's obviously either a porn addict or some Dungeons & Dragons geek. Look at that pale, transparent skin. He hasn't stepped away from his X-box or computer monitor in 4 months. No wonder no one ever comes to see him. All his friends are online," said Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Did you say 'porn'?" Horny asked.
"But he seems normal. And total super geeks don't drive Jeeps or play the drums. He's probably super cool. I bet you two have lots in common. You should have a lasagna supper and invite him over. Come on, you've been meaning to have a lasagna dinner for a while. This is a great opportunity!" said Stupidly Optimistic.
Then Overactive Imagination said:
"No.........wait. Going into a seemingly-normal stranger's house? That's how girls disappear. Everyone thought Ted Bundy was normal, too. You don't know him. Maybe he buries women in his backyard. You know, he never has people over. It all makes sense now. His backyard is probably lumpy from all the graves. That's why no one ever comes to his house. His secret would be revealed. Can't you picture the headlines now? Cookie-bearing Woman Disappears: Neighborhood Shocked, Police Want to Question Male Neighbor. And then, two weeks later: Man Buried Local Women in Backyard."
And then Reality, which luckily took over after hearing what Overactive had to say, said out loud:
"Oh, I'd love to, but I can't. I'm actually on my way out."
Which was totally true. I had a gym class to catch. I said goodbye and left my house 5 minutes later.
True to form, he and I haven't spoken a word since. Almost Girl strikes again! The girl who gets checked out sometimes, but never asked out. If this keeps up, I might have to change the name of this blog. You think I'm kidding.
So, what do you think? Did I screw up? Should I have gone into his house? Did he think I was turning him down? Can I remedy the situation? I feel I made the first move and now it's his turn. Perhaps I'm being too stubborn or old-fashioned. Maybe I should make more cookies.......he seemed to like them the first time. Am I just totally pathetic? Maybe I didn't get The Look. Maybe I got an Almost Look. Or maybe he just had indigestion? Or is he maybe thinking along the lines of "don't dig in your own backyard", so to speak?
Arg. I would give anything to hear the conversations he has with his brain. I wonder how it would go...
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
We Interrupt This Program...
I still have at least two more Southern Culture posts I'd like to write. (Unless everyone is sick of them?) I decided to start this series at a good time -- I don't have a lot going on right now. But that doesn't mean I don't have anything going on, either. For example:
1. I cannot stop eating hot dogs or anything orange-flavored. Maybe it's the summer weather, maybe it's the little kid in me, but all I want are ketchup, orange soda pop (OMG, diet Sunkist? The shiznit.), cheese-filled wieners and that ice cream where they mix the vanilla ice cream with orange sherbet. What is going on??? I never crave this stuff.
2. I am officially b-r-o-k-e. $40 until payday. This is not good. Note to self: DO SOMETHING!!
3. I just burned a new CD today. My favorite tracks include: "Beautiful Liar" -- Beyonce & Shakira, "Hang Me Up to Dry" -- Cold War Kids, "You Know I'm No Good" -- Amy Winehouse, "Like This" -- Kelly Rowland feat. Eve, "We Takin' Over" -- DJ Khaled (et al.) and "Hump de Bump" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, even though they totally sold out on that track. I had no business buying the tracks, but if I don't have new music every 2 months, I can feel my soul dying.
4. Not really any Hot Neighbor news. Haven't seen Hoochie McSkankerton in at least a week. This is good. I probably just jinxed myself, though. I'll probably come home to them sucking face in his driveway again. I did manage to make a complete idiot out of myself, though. (Surprised??) It's a long story, but he needed his sewer turned back on, and he didn't have time to do it since he was going to NC. Being the huge sucker that I am, I blurted out, "I'm not doing anything tomorrow. I can go down to the city offices and do it for you, if you want." The second it flew out of my mouth, I could not believe what a total jackass I was. So if you see me, please write "SUCKER" on my forehead in permanent ink, OK? He ended up doing it himself, so no, I did not run any errands for him. GAH. *bangs head against wall*
5. I didn't do diddly squat over the holiday weekend (see #2, above). Lots of naps, TV watching and hot dog eating. I was pretty much a worthless human being, aside from baking some cookies and working on my big secret project. Which I should actually be calling "Big Secret Project, The Sequel", as the original project needed to be aborted. This re-vamped version is much more...doable. (Again, if you have no idea what I'm talking about or are just plain nosy, email me and I will give you details.) It's ok. I have a 4 day weekend coming up. I can be more productive then. The good thing is, the Summer Parties and cookouts have started. It's starting to be lake time, which is always a fun weekend activity. WOOT!
6. I posted some new recipes on my cooking blog, Virginia Cooks. If you're interested.
But the true highlight of the long weekend was last night.
This is a story which I will call: "I am a Sucker for Awkwardness and Total Humiliation" or "On Realizing That I am a Masochist"
Ahem.
I have been spending a lot of time with the Happy Hour Girls lately, especially E, Butter and their boyfriends. If you remember, we all had a good time together the weekend of Cinco de Mayo. And if you recall, I ended up making out with Rob Thomas, who never called. And yes, I was kind of upset about that.
Well, last night I got a text message from E: "Hey, want to go to dinner with us? We are going to Flying Saucer because Rob Thomas wants to hit on some waitress who works there."
I know she didn't mean anything by it, but did I really need to have this information? To her, it's old news, but to me, it still kind of stings a little that he never called me.
"Dude, no. There's no way I'm going and watching Rob hit on some waitress in front of my face. Not when this is the first time he and I will be seeing each other. Unless you really want me to go," I replied.
She did. And Butter did, too. "Pleeeeeeeeease? I'm Butter! I need bread! You are my bread!" she pleaded. *sigh*
"It's going to be awkward the first time you and Rob see each other, anyway. Might as well get it over with," E said.
"*sigh* Ok. But I'm only going if I can have cigarettes on-demand," I said.
"Done," E said.
I drove over to meet everyone at Rob's house. (Remember, E's boyf is Rob's roommate). Rob and I were cordial, but distant. I wholly avoided eye contact with him (I know, I know. But I just wasn't ready to make nice quite yet.) and talked to everyone else instead. I asked if they liked the cookies. Earlier in the week, I had given E some cookies I made. "Dude, those cookies you made? Amazing," Rob said to me, out of nowhere.
"Really? Because I was sorta hoping you'd choke to death on them!" I wanted to say.
"Dude, your ass-kissing is total bullshit, so fuck off!" I wanted to say.
"That kissing you did? SO average," I wanted to say.
"Thank you. I'm glad you like them," I said instead.
"You wuss!" my brain said.
Soon after, we all piled into cars and drove to the restaurant.
I got MJ and KT to join us, too, and I'm so glad they came. I don't think I could have made it through the meal without having at least 4 girlfriends with me. Thank God for the knowing, understanding and sympathetic looks your girlfriends can give you, all without saying a word. "You OK?" "OMG he's being such a douchebag!" "Don't worry, let's talk about something else!" "Seriously, how dumb is this girl Rob likes?" their eyes said to me.
When I sat down at the table, the only empty seat was next to me. And Rob was the only person who hadn't sat down yet. Super. It looked like I was expecting him to sit next to me. Ugh.
Instead, and far worse, he moved aaaaaall the way to the opposite end of the table from me, and proceeded to pull up a chair. Wow. I don't think that could have been more insulting. Now, not only am I Almost Girl, I also have cooties. This is like 3rd grade all over again. I was already regretting my decision.
My feelings of self-loathing were only intensified when the waitress came over to our table. First off, she wasn't a very good waitress. This is probably because she has the same level of intelligence as a toothpick. Then again, I suppose I am biased. Since she and Rob already knew each other, she proceeds to pull up a chair next to him, where they spent half the meal talking to one another. She spent every possible minute talking to him, and he spent every possible minute trying to make her job easier: "Guys, who ordered the French dip?" "Anyone need anything?" "Are we ready for our bills?" etc.
"It's a good thing my stomach is empty right now, because otherwise, I'd be barfing all over this table," I whispered to MJ as we waited for our food.
"Stiff that stupid bimbo waitress," my brain said.
"I'm gonna stiff her," I told MJ.
I didn't stiff her.
"You wuss!" my brain said.
Anyway, the food was good. My girlfriends were wonderful. The service was below average. The humiliation was total.
Yup. Sounds pretty normal for me.
Never fear. Rob has invited all of us to go to the lake on his boat next weekend. I will get to do a whole repeat of this story, only while wearing my bikini. Because this wasn't quite humiliating enough. To be fully awful, I need to add "pale flesh" and "tummy rolls" to the mix. And if the bimbo waitress comes too? Aaaah, that will be Humiliation Extraordinaire!
It's kind of like a nightmare, only more real.
1. I cannot stop eating hot dogs or anything orange-flavored. Maybe it's the summer weather, maybe it's the little kid in me, but all I want are ketchup, orange soda pop (OMG, diet Sunkist? The shiznit.), cheese-filled wieners and that ice cream where they mix the vanilla ice cream with orange sherbet. What is going on??? I never crave this stuff.
2. I am officially b-r-o-k-e. $40 until payday. This is not good. Note to self: DO SOMETHING!!
3. I just burned a new CD today. My favorite tracks include: "Beautiful Liar" -- Beyonce & Shakira, "Hang Me Up to Dry" -- Cold War Kids, "You Know I'm No Good" -- Amy Winehouse, "Like This" -- Kelly Rowland feat. Eve, "We Takin' Over" -- DJ Khaled (et al.) and "Hump de Bump" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, even though they totally sold out on that track. I had no business buying the tracks, but if I don't have new music every 2 months, I can feel my soul dying.
4. Not really any Hot Neighbor news. Haven't seen Hoochie McSkankerton in at least a week. This is good. I probably just jinxed myself, though. I'll probably come home to them sucking face in his driveway again. I did manage to make a complete idiot out of myself, though. (Surprised??) It's a long story, but he needed his sewer turned back on, and he didn't have time to do it since he was going to NC. Being the huge sucker that I am, I blurted out, "I'm not doing anything tomorrow. I can go down to the city offices and do it for you, if you want." The second it flew out of my mouth, I could not believe what a total jackass I was. So if you see me, please write "SUCKER" on my forehead in permanent ink, OK? He ended up doing it himself, so no, I did not run any errands for him. GAH. *bangs head against wall*
5. I didn't do diddly squat over the holiday weekend (see #2, above). Lots of naps, TV watching and hot dog eating. I was pretty much a worthless human being, aside from baking some cookies and working on my big secret project. Which I should actually be calling "Big Secret Project, The Sequel", as the original project needed to be aborted. This re-vamped version is much more...doable. (Again, if you have no idea what I'm talking about or are just plain nosy, email me and I will give you details.) It's ok. I have a 4 day weekend coming up. I can be more productive then. The good thing is, the Summer Parties and cookouts have started. It's starting to be lake time, which is always a fun weekend activity. WOOT!
6. I posted some new recipes on my cooking blog, Virginia Cooks. If you're interested.
But the true highlight of the long weekend was last night.
This is a story which I will call: "I am a Sucker for Awkwardness and Total Humiliation" or "On Realizing That I am a Masochist"
Ahem.
I have been spending a lot of time with the Happy Hour Girls lately, especially E, Butter and their boyfriends. If you remember, we all had a good time together the weekend of Cinco de Mayo. And if you recall, I ended up making out with Rob Thomas, who never called. And yes, I was kind of upset about that.
Well, last night I got a text message from E: "Hey, want to go to dinner with us? We are going to Flying Saucer because Rob Thomas wants to hit on some waitress who works there."
I know she didn't mean anything by it, but did I really need to have this information? To her, it's old news, but to me, it still kind of stings a little that he never called me.
"Dude, no. There's no way I'm going and watching Rob hit on some waitress in front of my face. Not when this is the first time he and I will be seeing each other. Unless you really want me to go," I replied.
She did. And Butter did, too. "Pleeeeeeeeease? I'm Butter! I need bread! You are my bread!" she pleaded. *sigh*
"It's going to be awkward the first time you and Rob see each other, anyway. Might as well get it over with," E said.
"*sigh* Ok. But I'm only going if I can have cigarettes on-demand," I said.
"Done," E said.
I drove over to meet everyone at Rob's house. (Remember, E's boyf is Rob's roommate). Rob and I were cordial, but distant. I wholly avoided eye contact with him (I know, I know. But I just wasn't ready to make nice quite yet.) and talked to everyone else instead. I asked if they liked the cookies. Earlier in the week, I had given E some cookies I made. "Dude, those cookies you made? Amazing," Rob said to me, out of nowhere.
"Really? Because I was sorta hoping you'd choke to death on them!" I wanted to say.
"Dude, your ass-kissing is total bullshit, so fuck off!" I wanted to say.
"That kissing you did? SO average," I wanted to say.
"Thank you. I'm glad you like them," I said instead.
"You wuss!" my brain said.
Soon after, we all piled into cars and drove to the restaurant.
I got MJ and KT to join us, too, and I'm so glad they came. I don't think I could have made it through the meal without having at least 4 girlfriends with me. Thank God for the knowing, understanding and sympathetic looks your girlfriends can give you, all without saying a word. "You OK?" "OMG he's being such a douchebag!" "Don't worry, let's talk about something else!" "Seriously, how dumb is this girl Rob likes?" their eyes said to me.
When I sat down at the table, the only empty seat was next to me. And Rob was the only person who hadn't sat down yet. Super. It looked like I was expecting him to sit next to me. Ugh.
Instead, and far worse, he moved aaaaaall the way to the opposite end of the table from me, and proceeded to pull up a chair. Wow. I don't think that could have been more insulting. Now, not only am I Almost Girl, I also have cooties. This is like 3rd grade all over again. I was already regretting my decision.
My feelings of self-loathing were only intensified when the waitress came over to our table. First off, she wasn't a very good waitress. This is probably because she has the same level of intelligence as a toothpick. Then again, I suppose I am biased. Since she and Rob already knew each other, she proceeds to pull up a chair next to him, where they spent half the meal talking to one another. She spent every possible minute talking to him, and he spent every possible minute trying to make her job easier: "Guys, who ordered the French dip?" "Anyone need anything?" "Are we ready for our bills?" etc.
"It's a good thing my stomach is empty right now, because otherwise, I'd be barfing all over this table," I whispered to MJ as we waited for our food.
"Stiff that stupid bimbo waitress," my brain said.
"I'm gonna stiff her," I told MJ.
I didn't stiff her.
"You wuss!" my brain said.
Anyway, the food was good. My girlfriends were wonderful. The service was below average. The humiliation was total.
Yup. Sounds pretty normal for me.
Never fear. Rob has invited all of us to go to the lake on his boat next weekend. I will get to do a whole repeat of this story, only while wearing my bikini. Because this wasn't quite humiliating enough. To be fully awful, I need to add "pale flesh" and "tummy rolls" to the mix. And if the bimbo waitress comes too? Aaaah, that will be Humiliation Extraordinaire!
It's kind of like a nightmare, only more real.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Reasons #19 and #24
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.
#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.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Ok, People...
I know it would be uber-exciting for all of you to read this blog on Monday morning and see that I boldly walked over to Hot Neighbor's house on Saturday, knocked on his door and balls-out asked him over for dinner.
But I am not living my life for your entertainment. (Surprise!!)
While I may have moments of frustration, desperation and temptation, we all know I'm never going to do that. Yeah. Hate to be the bucket of cold water to your nice, relaxing hot shower, but let's get real, people. I just don't do that. Why?
1. In the past, all of my experiences where I have been the bold, assertive person have blown up in my face. Sure, the guys were nice enough about it, and flattered. They may have gotten my number or taken me out a couple of times, or even dated me for 6 months. But in the end, every one of them has ended up being either totally forgettable or a major dating regret (ie, The Cop). So if this was a baseball game, I'd be batting about 0 for 5. Not much of a batting average. What is that quote? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results? I think pretty much sums it up.
2. I am not comfortable with doing it in the first place, nevermind how it always seems to end up. I have been groomed my whole life to be an old-fashioned dater, and I am comfortable with it. It feels natural to me. I enjoy being wooed and pursued. Maybe it's because I was raised in the South, maybe it's because I'm definitely not a feminist, maybe it's because my parents' courtship was so charming and old-fashioned that I've been spoiled by their romantic tales from the mid-1970s, and now will never settle for less. Maybe it's just because I'm a girly girl. Who knows. But I feel confident when I am pursued. Not so much when I am being the aggressor. It's just not me. I think part of happiness is knowing yourself.
3. I am not one to play with fate. I think if something is meant to happen, it will happen in its own time. Since when does my life have to conform to the schedule my overly-daydreaming mind has laid out? Good grief, if I did that, I'd have 2 kids and a time share by now. Pursuing guys makes me feel like I'm forcing a relationship to happen. This doesn't sit well with me, kind of like how you have indigestion after eating too much, too fast: I can continue on with the experience, but I feel very uncomfortable. I like to allow things to happen naturally and slowly. There's no rush. I have the rest of my life to meet men.
4. He's been living next door to me for 5 months, people. Think about how often you are home in a 5 month period. Think about how many times he and I have spoken. How many different ways he could have gotten in touch with me. We are talking about numerous opportunities, all of which he has chosen to miss. This is a classic case of He's Just Not That Into Me. Which is fine. I can live with that. It happens all the time. And it's far better than forcing him to go out with me on a flattery date, only to be directly and bluntly rejected by him down the road. This is far less painful. If he were all about me, he would have been willing to risk rejection and would have asked me out already. Oh, and let's not forget my awesome timing in the looks department -- he looooves to see me when I look like total crap. This does not help my cause. So please, guys, no excuses for him. Don't give me the whole, "he's new to dating again! ease up!" or "divorcees have no self-esteem, you're going to have to meet him halfway!" or whatever. Excuses for not asking me out are bullshit, if I do say so myself. I'm a fun girl, who is easy to hang out with. Plus, I have nice boobs. I think that pretty much covers most 1st date requirements....right? Ok then.
5. I like balls. I like men with balls who ask out women fearlessly. I'm starting to think he's not that kind of guy. I'm starting to think he might be a ninny. A pushover. A doormat. Someone who waits for a domineering woman to take over and run his life for him. I can't respect people like that. Why would I settle for dating one? So can someone please explain to me why I would make a whole lasagna from scratch (about $25 and 3 hours of time, btw) for someone who can't even be bothered to take a deep breath and ask me what I'm doing this weekend? Because the more I think about it, the less interested I am in the idea. He's not lasagna-worthy at this point. (Elaine had sponges, I have lasagna.)
That being said, I'm obviously going to have to kick it up a notch in the flirting department. I've got serious competition now--he DID find his balls long enough to ask Wednesday Skank out, obviously. (I will suspend my theory that she asked him out, for the time being.) So although I'm not going to make lasagna (what, you think he'll take one bite and instantly fall madly in love with me? Come on, look who has an overactive imagination now! I mean, I know I make good lasagna, but come on!), I am going to start gardening in low-cut tops and insert some winking into my conversations with Hot Neighbor. I don't mess with fate, but I'm not against giving her a little nudge from time to time.
P.S. Don't bother calling me a wuss. I've already labeled the post appropriately. Aw, did I take the wind out of your sails?
So...I have some pics to share with you. It's Toby.
Um, I didn't realize it when I took it, but Toby is looking right at Sammy's butt in this picture...
And in this one, he wouldn't hold still, which is why he's not centered in the frame. Don't you love my awesomely landscaped backyard lawn? It's coming along perfectly...NOT.
This morning, I got to start my day at 5:30. Why was I up at 5:30, you ask? Because Toby was barfing all over my bedroom. Awesome. At first, I was just annoyed. Too sleepy to be worried, I was just wanting him to go back to bed. But he kept making noises and then I could hear some sort of splatter, which made me get up and turn on the lights.
I put two and two together in my pre-caffeinated brain: Dog is not making annoying sounds for the heck of it, dog is barfing. That is when the worry set in. I grabbed him and held him over my bathroom sink (ew) so he could barf on something that wasn't my carpeting. The dog barf had blood in it. I freaked out. So now he's at the vet, and I'm worried, because I haven't heard from the vet all day. And he hasn't had any food today, either. My poor, little pound puppy. My poor, little, expensive-as-hell pound puppy....
Ha! Not only am I Barf Queen, but my new dog is a barfer, too. Aw, he will fit in so well....
But I am not living my life for your entertainment. (Surprise!!)
While I may have moments of frustration, desperation and temptation, we all know I'm never going to do that. Yeah. Hate to be the bucket of cold water to your nice, relaxing hot shower, but let's get real, people. I just don't do that. Why?
1. In the past, all of my experiences where I have been the bold, assertive person have blown up in my face. Sure, the guys were nice enough about it, and flattered. They may have gotten my number or taken me out a couple of times, or even dated me for 6 months. But in the end, every one of them has ended up being either totally forgettable or a major dating regret (ie, The Cop). So if this was a baseball game, I'd be batting about 0 for 5. Not much of a batting average. What is that quote? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results? I think pretty much sums it up.
2. I am not comfortable with doing it in the first place, nevermind how it always seems to end up. I have been groomed my whole life to be an old-fashioned dater, and I am comfortable with it. It feels natural to me. I enjoy being wooed and pursued. Maybe it's because I was raised in the South, maybe it's because I'm definitely not a feminist, maybe it's because my parents' courtship was so charming and old-fashioned that I've been spoiled by their romantic tales from the mid-1970s, and now will never settle for less. Maybe it's just because I'm a girly girl. Who knows. But I feel confident when I am pursued. Not so much when I am being the aggressor. It's just not me. I think part of happiness is knowing yourself.
3. I am not one to play with fate. I think if something is meant to happen, it will happen in its own time. Since when does my life have to conform to the schedule my overly-daydreaming mind has laid out? Good grief, if I did that, I'd have 2 kids and a time share by now. Pursuing guys makes me feel like I'm forcing a relationship to happen. This doesn't sit well with me, kind of like how you have indigestion after eating too much, too fast: I can continue on with the experience, but I feel very uncomfortable. I like to allow things to happen naturally and slowly. There's no rush. I have the rest of my life to meet men.
4. He's been living next door to me for 5 months, people. Think about how often you are home in a 5 month period. Think about how many times he and I have spoken. How many different ways he could have gotten in touch with me. We are talking about numerous opportunities, all of which he has chosen to miss. This is a classic case of He's Just Not That Into Me. Which is fine. I can live with that. It happens all the time. And it's far better than forcing him to go out with me on a flattery date, only to be directly and bluntly rejected by him down the road. This is far less painful. If he were all about me, he would have been willing to risk rejection and would have asked me out already. Oh, and let's not forget my awesome timing in the looks department -- he looooves to see me when I look like total crap. This does not help my cause. So please, guys, no excuses for him. Don't give me the whole, "he's new to dating again! ease up!" or "divorcees have no self-esteem, you're going to have to meet him halfway!" or whatever. Excuses for not asking me out are bullshit, if I do say so myself. I'm a fun girl, who is easy to hang out with. Plus, I have nice boobs. I think that pretty much covers most 1st date requirements....right? Ok then.
5. I like balls. I like men with balls who ask out women fearlessly. I'm starting to think he's not that kind of guy. I'm starting to think he might be a ninny. A pushover. A doormat. Someone who waits for a domineering woman to take over and run his life for him. I can't respect people like that. Why would I settle for dating one? So can someone please explain to me why I would make a whole lasagna from scratch (about $25 and 3 hours of time, btw) for someone who can't even be bothered to take a deep breath and ask me what I'm doing this weekend? Because the more I think about it, the less interested I am in the idea. He's not lasagna-worthy at this point. (Elaine had sponges, I have lasagna.)
That being said, I'm obviously going to have to kick it up a notch in the flirting department. I've got serious competition now--he DID find his balls long enough to ask Wednesday Skank out, obviously. (I will suspend my theory that she asked him out, for the time being.) So although I'm not going to make lasagna (what, you think he'll take one bite and instantly fall madly in love with me? Come on, look who has an overactive imagination now! I mean, I know I make good lasagna, but come on!), I am going to start gardening in low-cut tops and insert some winking into my conversations with Hot Neighbor. I don't mess with fate, but I'm not against giving her a little nudge from time to time.
P.S. Don't bother calling me a wuss. I've already labeled the post appropriately. Aw, did I take the wind out of your sails?
So...I have some pics to share with you. It's Toby.
Um, I didn't realize it when I took it, but Toby is looking right at Sammy's butt in this picture...
And in this one, he wouldn't hold still, which is why he's not centered in the frame. Don't you love my awesomely landscaped backyard lawn? It's coming along perfectly...NOT.
This morning, I got to start my day at 5:30. Why was I up at 5:30, you ask? Because Toby was barfing all over my bedroom. Awesome. At first, I was just annoyed. Too sleepy to be worried, I was just wanting him to go back to bed. But he kept making noises and then I could hear some sort of splatter, which made me get up and turn on the lights.I put two and two together in my pre-caffeinated brain: Dog is not making annoying sounds for the heck of it, dog is barfing. That is when the worry set in. I grabbed him and held him over my bathroom sink (ew) so he could barf on something that wasn't my carpeting. The dog barf had blood in it. I freaked out. So now he's at the vet, and I'm worried, because I haven't heard from the vet all day. And he hasn't had any food today, either. My poor, little pound puppy. My poor, little, expensive-as-hell pound puppy....
Ha! Not only am I Barf Queen, but my new dog is a barfer, too. Aw, he will fit in so well....
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, March 12, 2007
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.)
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.)
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Intersection
It's happened. I have been tagged by Vixen to do a meme. The same meme I just did recently on myspace. So for those of you who have already read this, you get to play hooky today. This is apparently the intersection of Blogger Avenue and myspace Street, in case anyone is lost.
This came at a good time, as I had major writer's block today. Nothing was gelling. Who wants to read another random tidbit post, anyway? *silence* I thought so.
Here goes. But if I encounter a stupid question, I will replace it with a cooler one. So actually, this would be new to everyone.
What is your salad dressing of choice?
Ken's Steak House Light Caesar. MMM. or that Ginger dressing at Japanese restaurants.
What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
Wendy's or Chik-fil-a. (Or, as I like to call it, "Chick-to-tha-fizzle-ill-ay")
What is your favorite sit down restaurant?
Ok, I'm sure no one really cares about this, so I will instead substitute this with a random thought from my brain: The last movie I watched was Adventures in Babysitting.
On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
Again, I'm sure you don't care. How about: If you could have one superpower, what would it be? I would pick the ability to be invisible. Then I could play jokes on people. And listen in on conversations I wouldn't normally get to hear. Although, having the ability to read people's minds would be good, too.
What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of?
Ice cream. Candy. Fried chicken. Cheese.
I wish I could say the same for salad. I eat about 2 per year. I hate salad.
What are your pizza toppings of choice?
Anything but sausage, olives, pineapple or anchovies.
What do you like to put on your toast?
Don't really like toast.
What is your favorite type of gum?
Ok, if you really want to know this, email me. Otherwise, I will substitute a cooler bit of information: One day, I want to get into gardening.
**TECHNOLOGY**
Number of contacts in your cell phone? I have no idea. It's pretty much everyone I know, including my favorite pizza place (for those spur-of-the-moment pizza cravings when you are stuck in traffic--seriously, this has happened to me!), the kennel for my dog, my old boss, 4 ex-boyfriends, an in-case-of-emergency-booty-call-only guy*, my hairdresser, a few people I don't even talk to anymore, some people I am sure have moved by now, the movie theaters I like to go to, Repo's mom**, Lady Starfish's work number, and the emergency line for my car insurance.
*Um, yeah, he's really hot. And every time I go to call, I chicken out. Actually, I think he moved, too. He used to go to my gym. I need to start looking for him...but you see, he "doesn't date" he "only hooks up". Dang. Hence, the booty-call-only status.
**Totally forgot I had that number. I will keep it in case I need to blackmail him at some point. Hee hee hee...
Number of contacts in your email address book?
Unlike Vixen, I am sure mine is much less than 431. Apparently, she emails everyone in America. I try to stick to east of the Mississippi, with a few Californians thrown in. But I will say that I have 4 email addresses.
What is your wallpaper on your computer?
what else?-- Sammy. But, if I were brave enough to snap photos of hot guys working out at my gym, it would be that.
What is your screensaver on your computer?
I can never find one I like, so right now, none.
How many televisions are in your house?
Substitute answer: Have I told you guys that I am almost killed every day? Yeah. The road I drive on to get to work appears to be a magnet for pscyho drivers. I am not kidding. It is a life or death situation every time I drive to/from work.
What kitchen appliance do you use the least?
The toaster--see above.
What is the radio station you listen to the most?
Whatever the R&B or rap stations are. But I will pop over to the classic rock station on occassion. And the pop station. But usually, I listen to CDs. (I am the only American without an ipod. Trust me, I know.)
**BIOLOGY**
What do you consider to be your best physical attribute?
my boobs. Or my lips. I'm pretty happy in those departments.
Are you right handed or left handed?
Left. Did you know I can probably recite Office Space, Gone with the Wind and Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail?
Do you like your smile?
Yes. True to form, Czarina tells me it is "too much". But I get compliments, so...
Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
Blood. Teeth. One chunk of skin. (Sorry, gross, I know.) Two moles. Splinters. Wait, does that count?
Would you like to have something removed from your body?
My ass. Yeah, pretty much all of it. Or at least the cellulite.
Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom?
Do you care? How about this instead: I have recently lost my favorite lip gloss. And this is bugging the shit out of me because I never lose things, especially items in my precious makeup collection. And it was a limited-edition color. Pisser.
Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?
Uh...I would say smell, I suppose. I am actually concerned with my hearing. I think I may have damaged it somewhat and I will be deaf when I am old.
When was the last time you had a cavity?
I just had my first one the last time I went. And they didn't file the filling down properly, and so it hurts to eat on the right side of my mouth. But I've already had them adjust it twice, and I don't want to keep going in because they will think I'm insane, so now I just chew on the left side.
What is the heaviest item you lift regularly?
My boobs. Ok, I am just kidding. K would say my purse, because I am like an old lady and carry everything but the kitchen sink in it. Do not be surprised if you see me pull the following things out of my purse: an orange, nail polish, an eyelash curler, a can of diet coke, dental floss, a bottle of Excedrin, a magazine, 8 lip glosses, a copy of my resume, trash from my car, a styrofoam cup, plastic silverware or my cell charger. Lord help me if I'm ever a mother.
Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
Yeah. But you should'a seen the other girl. Kidding. No, but I am a fainter. I have the ability to faint easily. However, it is not fun, as when I wake up, I want to barf and I have a headache. So I have learned how to control it. I haven't fainted in about 5 years. Now I am more likely to barf. I am a barfer.
**A bunch of stuff-OLOGY**
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
No, because I would change how I live and act. And that is messed up. I would just be crying all the time. Who wants to live like that. However, I would like to know one thing: If I am ever getting married, have I already met him? Or not? (I actually wonder about this all the time.)
If you could change your first name, what would you change it to?
Something that people would never, ever name their dogs. (My real name is a very popular dog name, and I really hate that.)
How do you express your artistic side?
When did I get one of those??? I can draw decently. Every once in a while, I have a crafty moment and I will make something. But that's it. I express myself verbally so much that I guess I'm all expressed out by the time the crayons are placed in front of me.
What color do you think you look best in?
Pink. But do you really want to know that? Wouldn't you rather know that my first celebrity crush was Mark Wahlberg, back when he was still Marky Mark of Funky Bunch claim?
How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison?
I am a complete wuss. I would be dead meat, hands down. It would be like watching Private Benjamin, only the setting would be a prison. Instead of camo, I would be wearing an orange jump suit.
Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
"Yes. On purpose. Many times."--ok, that was Vixen's answer, and it was so good, that I have to just leave it there. Like I told her, I wish I'd thought of it first.
I did swallow a bug once. I was flapping my big mouth (surprise, surprise) and it flew in. I was so surprised, I gulped instinctively. Ew.
If we werent bound by society's conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at?
Ok, who is the sick f--k who wrote this survey? No. But under these circumstances, I would make a pass at a couple of DILFs I've met....
How often do you go to church?
Um...not at all lately. I could make up a lame excuse, but I won't. Guess I have a first-class ticket to hell. Then again, if I'm going anyway, I might as well go out with a bang. Good thing I kept Mr. HookUp's number.
Have you ever saved someones life?
I don't think so....unless I was driving and I braked just in the nick of time or something. Wouldn't it be cool if saved a hot guy's life, and he had to follow me around until he got an opportunity to save mine? Like in the movies. I would immediately become this OSHA-level safe person, so he would have to live with me forever. Then he would have to go to dinner with me all the time--I could choke, you know. And, it would probably be a good idea for him to bunk in bed with me, just in case I am bit by a poisonous spider in my sleep. Right?
Has someone ever saved yours?
Not in any dramatic, memorable way, no. But I'm sure someone blocked me from walking out into oncoming traffic at some point. Czarina was good at that.
**DARE-OLOGY**
Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000?
Actually, I think I would do this. I don't know how many people would want to watch, though. I certainly have a lot of "wobbly bits" I don't want most people seeing.
Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
Everyone keeps nagging me to try it anyway. I guess getting paid for it would make it that much easier.
Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
Can I die from that? How much would it impede my daily living? Clearly, I need more information.
Would you never blog again for $50,000?
That would suck, but I would do it. Before this started, talking on the phone with Lady Starfish was my blogging.
Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
This might not make sense, but there is no amount of money that would ever get me to do this. It's too close to being a hooker/stripper in my book. Not exactly something I want on my resume. Plus, during the photoshoot, I would have one thought running through my head: Soon, teenage boys will be sneaking into their dads' rooms to find this under the mattress so they can jerk off to my photo. Ew.
Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
I'd probably do this one, too. It would pay off a lot of my Visa.
Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
I don't know about this one. I think the guilt would take all the fun out of it for me. Then, I would live my life in fear of karma's revenge....so, negative to this offer.
Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000?
No way, Jose. Unless I was doing it to support Anne. :)
Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000?
Yeah. I'm a librarian. I should read more. Besides, that much money would mean I would have ZERO debt. Wow. Super thought.
Now who to tag with this? I guess just do it if you want to. But if you do, tell me so I can come read it!
This came at a good time, as I had major writer's block today. Nothing was gelling. Who wants to read another random tidbit post, anyway? *silence* I thought so.
Here goes. But if I encounter a stupid question, I will replace it with a cooler one. So actually, this would be new to everyone.
Random Questions
***FOOD***
What is your salad dressing of choice?
Ken's Steak House Light Caesar. MMM. or that Ginger dressing at Japanese restaurants.
What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
Wendy's or Chik-fil-a. (Or, as I like to call it, "Chick-to-tha-fizzle-ill-ay")
What is your favorite sit down restaurant?
Ok, I'm sure no one really cares about this, so I will instead substitute this with a random thought from my brain: The last movie I watched was Adventures in Babysitting.
On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
Again, I'm sure you don't care. How about: If you could have one superpower, what would it be? I would pick the ability to be invisible. Then I could play jokes on people. And listen in on conversations I wouldn't normally get to hear. Although, having the ability to read people's minds would be good, too.
What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of?
Ice cream. Candy. Fried chicken. Cheese.
I wish I could say the same for salad. I eat about 2 per year. I hate salad.
What are your pizza toppings of choice?
Anything but sausage, olives, pineapple or anchovies.
What do you like to put on your toast?
Don't really like toast.
What is your favorite type of gum?
Ok, if you really want to know this, email me. Otherwise, I will substitute a cooler bit of information: One day, I want to get into gardening.
**TECHNOLOGY**
Number of contacts in your cell phone? I have no idea. It's pretty much everyone I know, including my favorite pizza place (for those spur-of-the-moment pizza cravings when you are stuck in traffic--seriously, this has happened to me!), the kennel for my dog, my old boss, 4 ex-boyfriends, an in-case-of-emergency-booty-call-only guy*, my hairdresser, a few people I don't even talk to anymore, some people I am sure have moved by now, the movie theaters I like to go to, Repo's mom**, Lady Starfish's work number, and the emergency line for my car insurance.
*Um, yeah, he's really hot. And every time I go to call, I chicken out. Actually, I think he moved, too. He used to go to my gym. I need to start looking for him...but you see, he "doesn't date" he "only hooks up". Dang. Hence, the booty-call-only status.
**Totally forgot I had that number. I will keep it in case I need to blackmail him at some point. Hee hee hee...
Number of contacts in your email address book?
Unlike Vixen, I am sure mine is much less than 431. Apparently, she emails everyone in America. I try to stick to east of the Mississippi, with a few Californians thrown in. But I will say that I have 4 email addresses.
What is your wallpaper on your computer?
what else?-- Sammy. But, if I were brave enough to snap photos of hot guys working out at my gym, it would be that.
What is your screensaver on your computer?
I can never find one I like, so right now, none.
How many televisions are in your house?
Substitute answer: Have I told you guys that I am almost killed every day? Yeah. The road I drive on to get to work appears to be a magnet for pscyho drivers. I am not kidding. It is a life or death situation every time I drive to/from work.
What kitchen appliance do you use the least?
The toaster--see above.
What is the radio station you listen to the most?
Whatever the R&B or rap stations are. But I will pop over to the classic rock station on occassion. And the pop station. But usually, I listen to CDs. (I am the only American without an ipod. Trust me, I know.)
**BIOLOGY**
What do you consider to be your best physical attribute?
my boobs. Or my lips. I'm pretty happy in those departments.
Are you right handed or left handed?
Left. Did you know I can probably recite Office Space, Gone with the Wind and Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail?
Do you like your smile?
Yes. True to form, Czarina tells me it is "too much". But I get compliments, so...
Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
Blood. Teeth. One chunk of skin. (Sorry, gross, I know.) Two moles. Splinters. Wait, does that count?
Would you like to have something removed from your body?
My ass. Yeah, pretty much all of it. Or at least the cellulite.
Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom?
Do you care? How about this instead: I have recently lost my favorite lip gloss. And this is bugging the shit out of me because I never lose things, especially items in my precious makeup collection. And it was a limited-edition color. Pisser.
Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?
Uh...I would say smell, I suppose. I am actually concerned with my hearing. I think I may have damaged it somewhat and I will be deaf when I am old.
When was the last time you had a cavity?
I just had my first one the last time I went. And they didn't file the filling down properly, and so it hurts to eat on the right side of my mouth. But I've already had them adjust it twice, and I don't want to keep going in because they will think I'm insane, so now I just chew on the left side.
What is the heaviest item you lift regularly?
My boobs. Ok, I am just kidding. K would say my purse, because I am like an old lady and carry everything but the kitchen sink in it. Do not be surprised if you see me pull the following things out of my purse: an orange, nail polish, an eyelash curler, a can of diet coke, dental floss, a bottle of Excedrin, a magazine, 8 lip glosses, a copy of my resume, trash from my car, a styrofoam cup, plastic silverware or my cell charger. Lord help me if I'm ever a mother.
Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
Yeah. But you should'a seen the other girl. Kidding. No, but I am a fainter. I have the ability to faint easily. However, it is not fun, as when I wake up, I want to barf and I have a headache. So I have learned how to control it. I haven't fainted in about 5 years. Now I am more likely to barf. I am a barfer.
**A bunch of stuff-OLOGY**
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
No, because I would change how I live and act. And that is messed up. I would just be crying all the time. Who wants to live like that. However, I would like to know one thing: If I am ever getting married, have I already met him? Or not? (I actually wonder about this all the time.)
If you could change your first name, what would you change it to?
Something that people would never, ever name their dogs. (My real name is a very popular dog name, and I really hate that.)
How do you express your artistic side?
When did I get one of those??? I can draw decently. Every once in a while, I have a crafty moment and I will make something. But that's it. I express myself verbally so much that I guess I'm all expressed out by the time the crayons are placed in front of me.
What color do you think you look best in?
Pink. But do you really want to know that? Wouldn't you rather know that my first celebrity crush was Mark Wahlberg, back when he was still Marky Mark of Funky Bunch claim?
How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison?
I am a complete wuss. I would be dead meat, hands down. It would be like watching Private Benjamin, only the setting would be a prison. Instead of camo, I would be wearing an orange jump suit.
Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
"Yes. On purpose. Many times."--ok, that was Vixen's answer, and it was so good, that I have to just leave it there. Like I told her, I wish I'd thought of it first.
I did swallow a bug once. I was flapping my big mouth (surprise, surprise) and it flew in. I was so surprised, I gulped instinctively. Ew.
If we werent bound by society's conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at?
Ok, who is the sick f--k who wrote this survey? No. But under these circumstances, I would make a pass at a couple of DILFs I've met....
How often do you go to church?
Um...not at all lately. I could make up a lame excuse, but I won't. Guess I have a first-class ticket to hell. Then again, if I'm going anyway, I might as well go out with a bang. Good thing I kept Mr. HookUp's number.
Have you ever saved someones life?
I don't think so....unless I was driving and I braked just in the nick of time or something. Wouldn't it be cool if saved a hot guy's life, and he had to follow me around until he got an opportunity to save mine? Like in the movies. I would immediately become this OSHA-level safe person, so he would have to live with me forever. Then he would have to go to dinner with me all the time--I could choke, you know. And, it would probably be a good idea for him to bunk in bed with me, just in case I am bit by a poisonous spider in my sleep. Right?
Has someone ever saved yours?
Not in any dramatic, memorable way, no. But I'm sure someone blocked me from walking out into oncoming traffic at some point. Czarina was good at that.
**DARE-OLOGY**
Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000?
Actually, I think I would do this. I don't know how many people would want to watch, though. I certainly have a lot of "wobbly bits" I don't want most people seeing.
Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
Everyone keeps nagging me to try it anyway. I guess getting paid for it would make it that much easier.
Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
Can I die from that? How much would it impede my daily living? Clearly, I need more information.
Would you never blog again for $50,000?
That would suck, but I would do it. Before this started, talking on the phone with Lady Starfish was my blogging.
Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
This might not make sense, but there is no amount of money that would ever get me to do this. It's too close to being a hooker/stripper in my book. Not exactly something I want on my resume. Plus, during the photoshoot, I would have one thought running through my head: Soon, teenage boys will be sneaking into their dads' rooms to find this under the mattress so they can jerk off to my photo. Ew.
Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
I'd probably do this one, too. It would pay off a lot of my Visa.
Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
I don't know about this one. I think the guilt would take all the fun out of it for me. Then, I would live my life in fear of karma's revenge....so, negative to this offer.
Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000?
No way, Jose. Unless I was doing it to support Anne. :)
Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000?
Yeah. I'm a librarian. I should read more. Besides, that much money would mean I would have ZERO debt. Wow. Super thought.
Now who to tag with this? I guess just do it if you want to. But if you do, tell me so I can come read it!
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