(Original Post: July 7, 2005 - Thursday)
Alright, another day almost down. It's 6 p.m. I can eat again at 7. My roommate is making eggs and bacon. Bacon is not on my list of authorized foods, and the great part is, although it smells great, I'm not craving it. I'm not craving anything. I am at ease with myself right now.
I fasted for three hours before my workout and didn't eat for an hour after. According to the book you should work out on an empty stomach. And not eat for an hour after. Let your body have a chance to burn some fat why don't ya?
So yeah, I'm letting it, and I'm loving it. I love that my body is going through incredible changes. I love how sexy I'm going to feel when the process is complete. I mean, really, I feel damn sexy right now, so imagine.
I've been hiding behind this shell for far too long. I think it is time to see the girl behind the fat. Some of you may look at the photo to the left and go...hmmm, she doesn't look fat to me, and trust me, fat means different things to different people, and I realize that. But when you look at yourself and you know there are improvements that could be made for your health and your self esteem, well, quite frankly, you try and make them. And I like to just give that improvement a name....fat loss.
Now, am I saying that once I lose 20 pounds, all my problems will be solved and prayers answered...no. But problems and prayers are easier voiced while thin.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Fireworks
(Original Post: July 4, 2005 - Monday)
So let's talk about Fireworks. I have been seeing them everywhere. And I don't mean the ones you light off in the parking lot that pop your ear drum (although I've seen a few of those, and they are pretty cool.) I'm referring to the fireworks shooting up all around us. The ones that continue to shoot regardless of whether we see them or not. But I see them.
My relationships in life are going great. Me and my ex husband are getting along lovely. We are going in together on a house (purely platonic investment.) I'm excited about this opportunity.
My daughter is brilliant. Today she was on the computer playing video games and singing in Spanish. My goodness. I don't even know her anymore. And to think, I get the privilege of hearing her tell me she loves me. How lucky can I get?
I am also involved with a pretty amazing man. He knows who he is, and he knows how he makes me feel. This land is mine, but I'll let him rule.
I'm starting the Body For Life program. The contest starts Tuesday for me, and ends Sept. 27. The winner gets a million dollars. I would buy me a new life. Although, as you can see, the one I have is pretty fucking amazing.
So let's talk about Fireworks. I have been seeing them everywhere. And I don't mean the ones you light off in the parking lot that pop your ear drum (although I've seen a few of those, and they are pretty cool.) I'm referring to the fireworks shooting up all around us. The ones that continue to shoot regardless of whether we see them or not. But I see them.
My relationships in life are going great. Me and my ex husband are getting along lovely. We are going in together on a house (purely platonic investment.) I'm excited about this opportunity.
My daughter is brilliant. Today she was on the computer playing video games and singing in Spanish. My goodness. I don't even know her anymore. And to think, I get the privilege of hearing her tell me she loves me. How lucky can I get?
I am also involved with a pretty amazing man. He knows who he is, and he knows how he makes me feel. This land is mine, but I'll let him rule.
I'm starting the Body For Life program. The contest starts Tuesday for me, and ends Sept. 27. The winner gets a million dollars. I would buy me a new life. Although, as you can see, the one I have is pretty fucking amazing.
Atlantic City Baby
(Original Post: June 20, 2005 - Monday)So this weekend me and my good friend went to AC. The hotel was only 75 bucks a night courtesy of an old, (real old) friend. We got there on Friday night, partied till about 3, and then got some sleep. First let me say, men in NJ are shorter than most men in the United States. We stand about 5'7 and we towered them. Next let me let people know, walking up to two girls and saying, "hello ladies, you two look like Jersey girls"...is not a compliment unless you ARE actually FROM jersey. We sang karaoke but it cost 2 bucks a song. Drinks were around 10 bucks a piece, and there were cover charges. Every girl in NJ must buy stock in sequins....they were everywhere all over everything. Saturday was amazing. We got up, sat on the beach, walked the boardwalk, relaxed all day. The only annoying part was the people sitting next to us with a bag of chips. Birds were circling the area for hours trying to get these chips, and they were steady crunching them up and making a day of it. At one point they covered the youngest member of their group with chip crumbs and let the birds circle him for a few minutes. They were laughing the whole time, and between that and the sound the birds were making, I thought for sure we were on that MTV show where they pay people who have patience. Only we never got paid. And we weren't on TV. We finally went back to the hotel room around 5, got ready for dinner, came back downstairs to meet (the old friend) and let him buy us dinner. Then off to the casino....spent a little, won a little, checked out some more clubs, Ran into a group of men pissing on a wall, and decided to tag along on the end of their bachelor party for a second, met back up with the old friend and watched him win money. And you know he slipped us a couple chips. He gave us around 150 bucks that night...It pays to smile I guess. Damn, I've been smiling for free all this time. . . Sunday we got breakfast, went to the boardwalk for massages, (no happy endings...) got a few gifts for those in life we care most about, then of course put a few more nickels in the slot machines....lost. Then back home. I left with 200 bucks. The entire weekend, including gas, hotel, gambling, food, gifts, massage, (when you include my winnings on the slot machines, and the fifty bucks pop slipped me) only cost me 140 bucks. Not too shabby. I would have spent that on something a lot less memorable for sure. Weekend = Successful
Trying to avoid sleeping
(Original Post: June 15, 2005 - Wednesday)
I'm doing as much as I can right now to avoid falling asleep. I have duty tonight and I know if I sleep now, I will not want to wake back up.
So many things going on lately. So many mixed emotions. This is the time to let go of any and all things that do not completely satisfy me or make me happy. This is the time to let go of toxic things that clutter my mind and make me work too hard for my esteem. This is the time to clean out my closet.
I look at my daughter and think...what advice would I give her on this situation. And it's always the opposite of the advice I am applying. My logic and reasoning has been wrong for so long. My way of looking at life has been nonrealistic.
Those days are over. I am content right now. Fine in my own skin. Ready for a witness I guess you could say.
I am awake, and I'm not planning to go to sleep any time soon.
I'm doing as much as I can right now to avoid falling asleep. I have duty tonight and I know if I sleep now, I will not want to wake back up.
So many things going on lately. So many mixed emotions. This is the time to let go of any and all things that do not completely satisfy me or make me happy. This is the time to let go of toxic things that clutter my mind and make me work too hard for my esteem. This is the time to clean out my closet.
I look at my daughter and think...what advice would I give her on this situation. And it's always the opposite of the advice I am applying. My logic and reasoning has been wrong for so long. My way of looking at life has been nonrealistic.
Those days are over. I am content right now. Fine in my own skin. Ready for a witness I guess you could say.
I am awake, and I'm not planning to go to sleep any time soon.
It's finally time
(Original Post: June 3, 2005 - Friday)
Well, I think it is about time to take a break from the dating game. I realized today when my ex-husband came to watch his new girlfriend get promoted (she is amazing by the way), that I haven't really come to far in my personal life. I mean, he is on the verge of buying a house, becoming an officer, getting his life together, making things happen, and I am still getting drunk every Friday drinking quarter beers at Baja’s.
Well, I think it is about time to take a break from the dating game. I realized today when my ex-husband came to watch his new girlfriend get promoted (she is amazing by the way), that I haven't really come to far in my personal life. I mean, he is on the verge of buying a house, becoming an officer, getting his life together, making things happen, and I am still getting drunk every Friday drinking quarter beers at Baja’s.
So when is it enough?
(Original Post: May 27, 2005 - Friday)
One by one they let me down. Talk to much about themselves. try to impress me with how much money they have. Tell jokes when they don't know any. Totally insult my offspring. Hmmmm. Single is better. But single is sexless. lol. I'm not obsessed with sex, but it is a nice bonus when you couple it with someone you absolutely enjoy spending time with.
I mean, sure, I could just randomly pick one of these fuck-offs I've dated....not dating, that would mean more than once, but dated...but let's be honest. I do not like looking at them over food, what makes you think I'd enjoy looking at them over me!
Um, lesbian anyone?
I'm so done with the dating game. I have been on several dates, and can I just say, I will never get those hours back. I'm closer to dying, with nothing to show for it. One by one they let me down. Talk to much about themselves. try to impress me with how much money they have. Tell jokes when they don't know any. Totally insult my offspring. Hmmmm. Single is better. But single is sexless. lol. I'm not obsessed with sex, but it is a nice bonus when you couple it with someone you absolutely enjoy spending time with.
I mean, sure, I could just randomly pick one of these fuck-offs I've dated....not dating, that would mean more than once, but dated...but let's be honest. I do not like looking at them over food, what makes you think I'd enjoy looking at them over me!
So this is now
(Original Post: May 23, 2005 - Monday)
So this is now
I haven't done this for awhile so I figured what the fuck. Watched some good movies lately, went to a great concert, been on a few dates, getting to know some people, figuring out a little bit of life, and enjoying the ride mostly. It's May. I am in such a hurry to go nowhere. I keep praying for weekends, and when they come, I get my car cleaned, and unpack a few boxes, and clean my bedroom, and watch a movie. Nothing earth shattering you know. Nothing life changing. I'm waiting for that guy. You know the one. The one that will give me butterflies and help me remember why the hell I keep shaving my legs. He is out there. I know it, and one day, when we finally meet, and he runs his hand up my thigh, he'll say. Damn that's smooth. And life will make sense. And it will all be worth it.
So this is nowI haven't done this for awhile so I figured what the fuck. Watched some good movies lately, went to a great concert, been on a few dates, getting to know some people, figuring out a little bit of life, and enjoying the ride mostly. It's May. I am in such a hurry to go nowhere. I keep praying for weekends, and when they come, I get my car cleaned, and unpack a few boxes, and clean my bedroom, and watch a movie. Nothing earth shattering you know. Nothing life changing. I'm waiting for that guy. You know the one. The one that will give me butterflies and help me remember why the hell I keep shaving my legs. He is out there. I know it, and one day, when we finally meet, and he runs his hand up my thigh, he'll say. Damn that's smooth. And life will make sense. And it will all be worth it.
Today is Sunday
(Original Post: June 20, 2004 - Sunday)
So how come they know not to call until you have truly tried to forget about them. Oh well. I set women back twenty years today by picking up that fucking phone. But it was nice to chat. Catch up...remember exactly why I am trying to forget. You know, I'm at home right now...It's Sunday. Overall a pretty good weekend. Saw Dodgeball with Ben Stiller and Vince Vaughn....very funny guys... Maybe that is why I answered the phone. He is so funny. He lights up a room, and takes over a crowd. So in control of his own world. But he has made it very clear that he is married to being single...and very faithful might I add. So there you go. I have a twisty in my stomach today. I’m nervous but I'm not sure what about. Don't you hate that. You're just waiting for someone to come up to you and say, hey guess what....we are taking your birthday away from you or something...I hate that. I like to know exactly what I'm nervous about. I may take a walk today. It looks like a really nice day. I went to a concert last night. Indigo girls. I went with my
friend....tons of lesbians there, but the music and talent those women have is incredible. Truly. I want to learn how to play the guitar. I think that would be awesome. It's a little late in life to be deciding to take up music lessons I'm sure, but I have to do something. Life is becoming routine and we cannot have that. But I'm so busy, when will I find the time? Maybe instead of answering the phone I can be using THAT time more constructively. Truth is, if he called right now, I'd still answer.
So how come they know not to call until you have truly tried to forget about them. Oh well. I set women back twenty years today by picking up that fucking phone. But it was nice to chat. Catch up...remember exactly why I am trying to forget. You know, I'm at home right now...It's Sunday. Overall a pretty good weekend. Saw Dodgeball with Ben Stiller and Vince Vaughn....very funny guys... Maybe that is why I answered the phone. He is so funny. He lights up a room, and takes over a crowd. So in control of his own world. But he has made it very clear that he is married to being single...and very faithful might I add. So there you go. I have a twisty in my stomach today. I’m nervous but I'm not sure what about. Don't you hate that. You're just waiting for someone to come up to you and say, hey guess what....we are taking your birthday away from you or something...I hate that. I like to know exactly what I'm nervous about. I may take a walk today. It looks like a really nice day. I went to a concert last night. Indigo girls. I went with my
friend....tons of lesbians there, but the music and talent those women have is incredible. Truly. I want to learn how to play the guitar. I think that would be awesome. It's a little late in life to be deciding to take up music lessons I'm sure, but I have to do something. Life is becoming routine and we cannot have that. But I'm so busy, when will I find the time? Maybe instead of answering the phone I can be using THAT time more constructively. Truth is, if he called right now, I'd still answer.
Tale of two shitties
Better that someone knows all of your personal secrets or are those better kept to yourself? Both shitty options. If they know all, they judge. If they don't know all, then they don't really understand you. So I was thinking about blogs and journals and diaries. A good friend of mine told me he was impressed with the way I could seemingly write heart-on-sleeve blogs. But he has no clue. These blogs are edited. They are re-read and read again. They are scanned through and often read aloud. A lot happens to these blogs before I hit the 'preview and post' button.
There was, however, a time in my life when I was painfully honest. I wrote in composition notebooks galore. I labeled each one with time frames, and each page had a date. Every detail of every day was crammed onto those pages. Sometimes I would use code words to describe things. You know, just in case I became famous and someone wanted to publish my dairy ... kinda like Virginia Wolf.
"They published your diaries, and that's how I got to know you."
The strange part about that quote is ... I don't think I would want people to get to know me by reading my diary. My ex husband once told me I should burn those books. Surely they would haunt me if someone broke into my house. I've gone back from time to time to see how much I've changed. Mostly to search for differences.
Typical Journal Entry:
August 12, 1996
Today was a good day. I went to the movies with Drew. Drew is such a great guy. I wish he wasn't so in love with Vance. She makes me sick. Drew deserves so much more than her. She loves to work out. So what! I tell jokes. Isn't a good personality better than a good body. Oh yeah, that's a lie ugly people tell themselves. I love Drew.
August 13, 1996
Stewart: A new guy. Totally cute. He's a Mormon. I used to be a Mormon. He's married. But that shouldn't matter right? He's Mormon afterall. I'm going to make him my friend. Drew and Vance went to the movies together. Barf.
August 14, 1996
Stewart is so funny. Scott told me he likes Mandy. Why does that make me jealous? I don't even like Scott. But now I do. I told him I liked him. He asked me why I waited until he was interested in someone else. Well duh? So me and Scott are dating. He's nice. A little hairy. His last name is New. Everyone calls him Newbacca. I think it's funny.
August 15, 1996
Today Scott found out he's going to be stationed in Japan. I told him we should break up. I'm not good with long distance relationships. Stewart and I went to the movies. Scott was upset that I didn't want to spend time with him today. I saw Drew and Vance holding hands outside. I guess they are together now. Maybe they should go lift weights together, since she's such a guy. Yuck, I hate them together.
August 16, 1996
Ben asked me out today. He's alright. I told him I would think about it. I need to stop hanging out with Stewart, I'm starting to like him too much. Scott doesn't talk to me much anymore. I guess Mandy is dating someone else and Scott is pissed that he wasted his time with me. Whatever. Drew and Vance are probably going to get married. I wonder if he'll take her last name.
August 17, 1996
I need to go on a diet. I ate four pieces of pizza today. I feel like a pig. Ben said I don't need to lose weight. My friend Shannon said that guys like fat chicks because they are less likely to cheat. But my friend Mark said that is not true, because his brother was dating this really fat girl and she ended up pregnant by someone else. So I'm confused I guess. Should I lose weight to get a guy or gain weight to keep a guy?
August. 18, 1996
I'm done with men! Ben was making out with Crystal today! I didn't see them, but Shannon told me. Did he think I wasn't going to find out? Crystal is such a hooker. I'm going to ask Scott if he wants to go to the movies tomorrow. Hopefully he will get me out of this slump.
August 19, 1996
I should not have asked Scott to the movies. He wanted to hold my hand. Man! Doesn't he realize I just needed a friend. I hate feeling pressured to be intimate. I held his hand. He tried to kiss me in the car. I told him I was getting a cold and it wasn't a good idea. He said he was sick already so it didn't matter. I still said no. He was pissed. When we got back Mandy was making out with Carlos. That didn't help the situation one bit. I'm done with men.
August 20, 1996
Chris checked in today. He is adorable. Tall. Short blond hair. Really quite. I am going to talk to him. I ate too much today. I'm gross. Ben apologized for making out with Crystal. I called him a fuck stick. He said he heard I was in love with Stewart. Whatever. Stewart is married. I told Ben I didn't want to talk to him anymore. Shannon told me Rick was asking about me. There is no way I would ever be with Rick. He scratches his balls all the time. It is so irritating. Like he doesn't even realize he's doing it. No way. I wonder if Chris has any bad habits. I kissed Drew today. I love him.
*Differences?
There was, however, a time in my life when I was painfully honest. I wrote in composition notebooks galore. I labeled each one with time frames, and each page had a date. Every detail of every day was crammed onto those pages. Sometimes I would use code words to describe things. You know, just in case I became famous and someone wanted to publish my dairy ... kinda like Virginia Wolf.
"They published your diaries, and that's how I got to know you."
The strange part about that quote is ... I don't think I would want people to get to know me by reading my diary. My ex husband once told me I should burn those books. Surely they would haunt me if someone broke into my house. I've gone back from time to time to see how much I've changed. Mostly to search for differences.
Typical Journal Entry:
August 12, 1996
Today was a good day. I went to the movies with Drew. Drew is such a great guy. I wish he wasn't so in love with Vance. She makes me sick. Drew deserves so much more than her. She loves to work out. So what! I tell jokes. Isn't a good personality better than a good body. Oh yeah, that's a lie ugly people tell themselves. I love Drew.
August 13, 1996
Stewart: A new guy. Totally cute. He's a Mormon. I used to be a Mormon. He's married. But that shouldn't matter right? He's Mormon afterall. I'm going to make him my friend. Drew and Vance went to the movies together. Barf.
August 14, 1996
Stewart is so funny. Scott told me he likes Mandy. Why does that make me jealous? I don't even like Scott. But now I do. I told him I liked him. He asked me why I waited until he was interested in someone else. Well duh? So me and Scott are dating. He's nice. A little hairy. His last name is New. Everyone calls him Newbacca. I think it's funny.
August 15, 1996
Today Scott found out he's going to be stationed in Japan. I told him we should break up. I'm not good with long distance relationships. Stewart and I went to the movies. Scott was upset that I didn't want to spend time with him today. I saw Drew and Vance holding hands outside. I guess they are together now. Maybe they should go lift weights together, since she's such a guy. Yuck, I hate them together.
August 16, 1996
Ben asked me out today. He's alright. I told him I would think about it. I need to stop hanging out with Stewart, I'm starting to like him too much. Scott doesn't talk to me much anymore. I guess Mandy is dating someone else and Scott is pissed that he wasted his time with me. Whatever. Drew and Vance are probably going to get married. I wonder if he'll take her last name.
August 17, 1996
I need to go on a diet. I ate four pieces of pizza today. I feel like a pig. Ben said I don't need to lose weight. My friend Shannon said that guys like fat chicks because they are less likely to cheat. But my friend Mark said that is not true, because his brother was dating this really fat girl and she ended up pregnant by someone else. So I'm confused I guess. Should I lose weight to get a guy or gain weight to keep a guy?
August. 18, 1996
I'm done with men! Ben was making out with Crystal today! I didn't see them, but Shannon told me. Did he think I wasn't going to find out? Crystal is such a hooker. I'm going to ask Scott if he wants to go to the movies tomorrow. Hopefully he will get me out of this slump.
August 19, 1996
I should not have asked Scott to the movies. He wanted to hold my hand. Man! Doesn't he realize I just needed a friend. I hate feeling pressured to be intimate. I held his hand. He tried to kiss me in the car. I told him I was getting a cold and it wasn't a good idea. He said he was sick already so it didn't matter. I still said no. He was pissed. When we got back Mandy was making out with Carlos. That didn't help the situation one bit. I'm done with men.
August 20, 1996
Chris checked in today. He is adorable. Tall. Short blond hair. Really quite. I am going to talk to him. I ate too much today. I'm gross. Ben apologized for making out with Crystal. I called him a fuck stick. He said he heard I was in love with Stewart. Whatever. Stewart is married. I told Ben I didn't want to talk to him anymore. Shannon told me Rick was asking about me. There is no way I would ever be with Rick. He scratches his balls all the time. It is so irritating. Like he doesn't even realize he's doing it. No way. I wonder if Chris has any bad habits. I kissed Drew today. I love him.
*Differences?
Putting the new back in New Year
Today I ate a half box of Dots. 450. I topped it off with some milk duds and rounded out the evening with a blooming onion from Outback. I feel like I'm going to puke on a Nike. Seriously. 
The guy at Outback must have slipped me a 'roofie' because I feel totally exhausted, and even a little raped. I don't know what that means. He called me sweetheart. Maybe he considered that four-play. And is that even how that is spelled? Or is it for-play? or is it one word no hyphen. It's not really modifying anything right? My point is, it's the end of another year and I feel like I haven't moved a bit. I'm still eating more and working out less. I'm still biting the inside of my mouth. I'm still falling in love outside my zip code. I'm still plucking my eye brows too thin. I'm still renting. I'm still leasing. I found out I've been extended at the school house until June. I went home for Christmas to find my family sitting around the same table, in the same house, talking about the same things. I will go back to Maryland to the same routine, only now I need to remember to write 7 instead of 6. There is no New in the New Year. And I guess I'm just wondering where it went. I find myself still insecure about the same things. Still scared of the same shit. Still unable to be confrontational. Still ashamed to re-read my own journal. Still haunted by mistakes I've made. Still in the constant pursuit of happiness. Still relying on someone else to pay it forward. Still doubting myself. Still questioning my worth in someone else's eyes. Still pretending like I've got it all figured out. Still looking for drama, even when none exists. Still hoping I don't look 30. Still wanting other people to validate me. Still wanting what I don't have, and hating what I thought I wanted. Still wondering what she means to him. So my New Years Resolution this year is simple. I'm going to be New. And I don't mean new hair and new car. Although, new hair isn't totally out of the question. I mean, New outlook and new attitude. I'm going to stop being so scared of bugs. I'm going to stop pushing so hard for love. I'm going to stop expecting him to complete me. I'm going to validate myself. I'm going to believe in me. I'm going to eat less and work out more. And not to be thin, but to be healthy. And I'm going to open up my journal and re-read my life. Figure myself out. I'm going to stop making all the effort. I'm going to stop saying I love you first. I'm going to start appreciating myself, and seeing the me that others see. And I'm going to chill on the Dots. I'm going to start doing less Dane, and more Me. I'm going to love my daughter with the same energy I love my boyfriend. I'm going to dress up more. I'm going to write letters. I'm going to talk less and act more. I'm going to accept the mystery globe as a gift from God. He wasn't trying to give me the world, he was just letting me know that I could take it off my shoulders.
The guy at Outback must have slipped me a 'roofie' because I feel totally exhausted, and even a little raped. I don't know what that means. He called me sweetheart. Maybe he considered that four-play. And is that even how that is spelled? Or is it for-play? or is it one word no hyphen. It's not really modifying anything right? My point is, it's the end of another year and I feel like I haven't moved a bit. I'm still eating more and working out less. I'm still biting the inside of my mouth. I'm still falling in love outside my zip code. I'm still plucking my eye brows too thin. I'm still renting. I'm still leasing. I found out I've been extended at the school house until June. I went home for Christmas to find my family sitting around the same table, in the same house, talking about the same things. I will go back to Maryland to the same routine, only now I need to remember to write 7 instead of 6. There is no New in the New Year. And I guess I'm just wondering where it went. I find myself still insecure about the same things. Still scared of the same shit. Still unable to be confrontational. Still ashamed to re-read my own journal. Still haunted by mistakes I've made. Still in the constant pursuit of happiness. Still relying on someone else to pay it forward. Still doubting myself. Still questioning my worth in someone else's eyes. Still pretending like I've got it all figured out. Still looking for drama, even when none exists. Still hoping I don't look 30. Still wanting other people to validate me. Still wanting what I don't have, and hating what I thought I wanted. Still wondering what she means to him. So my New Years Resolution this year is simple. I'm going to be New. And I don't mean new hair and new car. Although, new hair isn't totally out of the question. I mean, New outlook and new attitude. I'm going to stop being so scared of bugs. I'm going to stop pushing so hard for love. I'm going to stop expecting him to complete me. I'm going to validate myself. I'm going to believe in me. I'm going to eat less and work out more. And not to be thin, but to be healthy. And I'm going to open up my journal and re-read my life. Figure myself out. I'm going to stop making all the effort. I'm going to stop saying I love you first. I'm going to start appreciating myself, and seeing the me that others see. And I'm going to chill on the Dots. I'm going to start doing less Dane, and more Me. I'm going to love my daughter with the same energy I love my boyfriend. I'm going to dress up more. I'm going to write letters. I'm going to talk less and act more. I'm going to accept the mystery globe as a gift from God. He wasn't trying to give me the world, he was just letting me know that I could take it off my shoulders.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Life as easy as a 'click'
I'm going to workout at some point or at least that is what I tell myself. I graduated my very last class yesterday. I wanted to cry. I tried to cry. I felt like Cameron Diaz in that new film, 'The Holiday." It seems like lately a story or a movie can make me cry rivers, but I cannot find those same emotions for actual situations in my life. I guess right now, I'm no longer an instructor at the Defense Information School. I will return in January as a student. I will attend the public affairs officers qualification course, graduate in March and report to my ship in Norfolk shortly after that.Bitter/sweet. I'm eager to move on. But it is going to suck not having an audience of people required to listen to my stupid stories every single day! I went to see a therapist and it was all fine while she was focused on me, but at some point she started focusing on my daughter and I got upset. And she said, are you upset at what I'm saying to you, or you upset that I have taken the focus off of you?Wow, at that point I could stop paying her . She figured out my entire life with one sentence. My profile picture is me in a sombrero flashing a SUFI, I guess you could say I like attention. lol. But then again, don't most people? If over half of the photos in your profile are taken by you, then doesn't that mean you are pretty much the center of your own world?Someone told me self portraits are for the arrogant. They said, "Only the arrogant and egotistical could enjoy looking at themselves over and over again."I guess in a way, I see their point. I mean, why would you need to put pictures of yourself up. So in order to disguise these 'self portraits' we place other people in the photo strategically. (and by the way, I know my spelling is all over the place.) By placing in these other people, we convince ourselves it is a friendship photo or a family photo. But let's be honest. You only use the photos that look best of YOU. You could give a shit what they look like in the photo. Because at the end of the day, when someone sees that picture, it is YOU, you want them to see. And then the family.I think that is why we love digital cameras and we take 20 or 30 photos of the same thing. Because there is bound to be a photo that all of you love. We recently encountered this at the holiday party. We went to the back to take a photo.It was several friends and me. The photographer shot the photo, we went to look at it. We all said, nope. He took another one. A few of us were like, yes, this is a great photo. While a few others of us were like, no "I don't like the way I look." So we took another. This time most were happy, but I was like, "Yeah, I guess we can go with this one even though I look like a dime store ho-bag." So we decided to take another one. The next one I loved. So of course I'm like, yep, this is the one. My friend and quest weren't crazy about it, but we ended up getting it. At the end of the day it's not about how good your boyfriend looks in real life. It's about how well he photographs. We are all looking for the family photo guy. This day in age we are less likely to bring our boyfriends home to meet our parents and friends. We are more likely to send a photo. So the first impression they get of you as a couple is going to come through a photograph. So we end up placing a lot of stress on the camera man. We want that perfect photo. I've noticed recently that people have stopped sending me photos of them. instead I get photos of their children. And I've started doing that. It is a lot easier for someone to forgive a child for not smiling perfectly or for being a few pounds heavy. We know no one is going to give us an inch. We will be judged by our friends and family every time they see that photo. Geez, we are all a real bunch of assholes!I found a guy who looks cute in photos. I'll snap a couple of pictures of us together. Family photo guy? We'll find out. If he doesn't photograph well, I'll change my profile back to single and keep checking self shot profile pictures. lol If only everything in life were as easy as a 'click.'Putting the new back in New Year
Happy Birthday Jeezus
Last night was the work Christmas party.
Or as not to offend anyone, the holiday party. Upon arrival I had a drink. And another. There is one thing about alcohol that I love. It makes my jokes super funny.
And the cool thing is, everyone can hear every single joke I make because for some reason I seem to talk super loud. My friend Mike looked Amazing. I said, damn Mike, you look good. He said, it's thanks to his wife. So I said, wow, these "wives" as people call them, seem to be pretty damn cool. Where can I get myself one of those. He said Columbia.
My other friend Mike was there with his girlfriend. Although everyone thinks she is his wife. Not because he has ever said he is married, and not because either one of them wear a ring (because they don't) but just because this day in age everyone is trying to get away from everyone else, so the idea of two people living together just because they want to, even though they have a choice not to, just doesn't make any sense. So all night people kept introducing them as Mike and his wife. So finally, I point out the fact that they are not married.
I tell them about a guy friend of mine who always wore a wedding ring so everyone would assume he was married. Even though he wasn't. He would even refer to his girlfriend as his wife. He was the first man I had ever met who pretended he WAS married. Most of the time when you are out with a couple, (and especially if the woman is wearing a diamond or any type of fancy ring on her finger) you assume they are married. So when someone asks, oh, you are married? Mr. Boyfriend is sure to jump in with, "um, nope, she bought that ring herself. She wears it on that finger to make me crazy. She's a cockblocker. I was going to break up with her tonight actually. Are you free? Seriously, I'm basically super single." (The cool part is, his girlfriend with the ring is usually like a hundred weeks pregnant. So she feels super hero stupid.)
But nope, usually no one is breaking down doors to announce they are married, specially when they're not.I told Mike he may as well just marry his girl. I said, "don't break up. Don't fucking do it. there's nothing else out there. No greener grass. Seriously, I’m currently just looking for someone who doesn't molest kids. It's gotten that bad." Mike assured me he does not molest kids. Hence, he'd make an awesome husband.
It was at that point that my friends suggested I stop speaking to people. I came out of the bathroom and saw a couple drinks at the bar. I said, mmm, those look tasty, what's in that? The deputy commandant said, "Pepsi." I said, oh! I guess I'll take a Pepsi ... Plus! He asked me if I had one of the pocket breathalyzer tests they were handing out at the party. (Where were my friends for that exchange?)I went back inside and it was time to eat. When I got to the line there were so many plates. They were stacked to the Heavens. I said to the guy next to me. Look at all the plates. There is one for everyone. Again ... can I get some friends? I got salad and accidentally allowed it to touch the guy in front of me. He had a nice dip of ceaser dressing on his sleeve. I tried to wipe it off without him noticing. He noticed. I guess I was trying to wipe if off with another part of his jacket.
I got some stuffing, although I had to cut it with a knife. Don't even ask, 'cause I can't answer. It was good though. I stuck the table decorations in my hair at the exact moment the Commandant came up to introduce me to his wife. (What friends?)I did the chicken noodle soup dance. With a soda on the side. I threw up in my mouth. I had to eat a piece of cake to get rid of the taste. I washed the cake down with Madori. I took out my pocket breathalyzer. If it turns blue, it means you are over the legal limit.At some point we all played musical chairs. It's fun. You send up a rep from your table. They announce an item each rep needs to get and the rep runs out to get it. One chair is taken away while they're gone. The point is to get back to a chair. Our rep made it into the top 3. They announced to the reps they needed to find something blue. I threw my breathalizer.It was as Blue as could be.
Or as not to offend anyone, the holiday party. Upon arrival I had a drink. And another. There is one thing about alcohol that I love. It makes my jokes super funny.
And the cool thing is, everyone can hear every single joke I make because for some reason I seem to talk super loud. My friend Mike looked Amazing. I said, damn Mike, you look good. He said, it's thanks to his wife. So I said, wow, these "wives" as people call them, seem to be pretty damn cool. Where can I get myself one of those. He said Columbia.
My other friend Mike was there with his girlfriend. Although everyone thinks she is his wife. Not because he has ever said he is married, and not because either one of them wear a ring (because they don't) but just because this day in age everyone is trying to get away from everyone else, so the idea of two people living together just because they want to, even though they have a choice not to, just doesn't make any sense. So all night people kept introducing them as Mike and his wife. So finally, I point out the fact that they are not married.
I tell them about a guy friend of mine who always wore a wedding ring so everyone would assume he was married. Even though he wasn't. He would even refer to his girlfriend as his wife. He was the first man I had ever met who pretended he WAS married. Most of the time when you are out with a couple, (and especially if the woman is wearing a diamond or any type of fancy ring on her finger) you assume they are married. So when someone asks, oh, you are married? Mr. Boyfriend is sure to jump in with, "um, nope, she bought that ring herself. She wears it on that finger to make me crazy. She's a cockblocker. I was going to break up with her tonight actually. Are you free? Seriously, I'm basically super single." (The cool part is, his girlfriend with the ring is usually like a hundred weeks pregnant. So she feels super hero stupid.)
But nope, usually no one is breaking down doors to announce they are married, specially when they're not.I told Mike he may as well just marry his girl. I said, "don't break up. Don't fucking do it. there's nothing else out there. No greener grass. Seriously, I’m currently just looking for someone who doesn't molest kids. It's gotten that bad." Mike assured me he does not molest kids. Hence, he'd make an awesome husband.
It was at that point that my friends suggested I stop speaking to people. I came out of the bathroom and saw a couple drinks at the bar. I said, mmm, those look tasty, what's in that? The deputy commandant said, "Pepsi." I said, oh! I guess I'll take a Pepsi ... Plus! He asked me if I had one of the pocket breathalyzer tests they were handing out at the party. (Where were my friends for that exchange?)I went back inside and it was time to eat. When I got to the line there were so many plates. They were stacked to the Heavens. I said to the guy next to me. Look at all the plates. There is one for everyone. Again ... can I get some friends? I got salad and accidentally allowed it to touch the guy in front of me. He had a nice dip of ceaser dressing on his sleeve. I tried to wipe it off without him noticing. He noticed. I guess I was trying to wipe if off with another part of his jacket.
I got some stuffing, although I had to cut it with a knife. Don't even ask, 'cause I can't answer. It was good though. I stuck the table decorations in my hair at the exact moment the Commandant came up to introduce me to his wife. (What friends?)I did the chicken noodle soup dance. With a soda on the side. I threw up in my mouth. I had to eat a piece of cake to get rid of the taste. I washed the cake down with Madori. I took out my pocket breathalyzer. If it turns blue, it means you are over the legal limit.At some point we all played musical chairs. It's fun. You send up a rep from your table. They announce an item each rep needs to get and the rep runs out to get it. One chair is taken away while they're gone. The point is to get back to a chair. Our rep made it into the top 3. They announced to the reps they needed to find something blue. I threw my breathalizer.It was as Blue as could be.
I'm totally fucking Thankful
Too often we convince ourselves there is nothing in our lives to be Thankful for. Tonight it is time to convince myself I'm totally fucking Thankful for:My ability to Gleek long ranges. My ability to type really (really) fast. My addicted mother who's craziness led me to realize that if I'm already like this without drugs, then with drugs I would be unstoppable. I mean, unbearable. Same difference. My father who lived in a nudist camp and who taught me that a naked human body is beautiful, except while playing volleyball. My stepmother who taught me real potatoes didn't come from a box. My best friend for running over the dog that would always sit in his own shit. The guy who picked up the useless piece of paper that flew out of my bag and rushed across the parking lot in the rain to give it to me. (I threw it away right after.) The lady who let me cut in front of her the other day at Target. (Just kidding. You know that shit didn't happen.) The guy who told me he wanted me to be his Queen. My roommate who puts up with me even though I don't wash dishes. The poor students that sat with me at the detachment all of today because I had no where else to go. The friend I have who always puts me first. My friend Diane who never misses an opportunity to compliment me. My ex-boyfriends for never getting mad when I cheated on them repeatedly. My ex-husband for not killing me when I cheated on him repeatedly. The Navy for helping me escape and becoming an enabler for me to continue escaping. Reality TV for giving me something to look forward to on a blah Tuesday night. DVR for allowing me the freedom from a television-controlled schedule. God for clearing Traffic and the Weather so my loved ones and I could travel safe tonight. The car dealership for finally installing my damn keyless entry. Dane Cook for never giving me hope, therefore ensuring my undying devotion. My daughter My daughter and her many talents. (although I'd be really super hero thankful if she could manage not to get kicked out of her school.) And last but not least, My mystery stalker who sent the Globe.
Things I'm not Thankful for:Bugs.
You want me to use a paddle?
(Original Post: November 15, 2006 - Wednesday)
The other day my daughter stuck her tongue out. She pushed it way out there and the teacher was pissed. Then she did it again. She was told to stop, yet, for good measure, she stuck it out there one more time. Well, that was that. The teacher pulled her into the office and had a talk with her. They told her to go into 'timeout.' She refused. They told her to sit down and be still, she refused. They called her father. He read her the riot act. She promised to oblige. But didn't.So they called me. I mean really? What am I going to do? Get on the phone with her and in my meanest voice tell her to knock it off? Well, actually the school had something different in mind. They asked me to make my way to the building. This was a serious infraction and she needed to be 'punished.'So off I go. When I get there she is in the office. The principal talks to me about her behavior. About how they will not tolerate a child disobeying. About how awful it is to stick your tongue out. He suggests to me that I punish my daughter in private, and then send her out to apologize to the teacher. Then he does something I still cannot believe. He says, "Here is what we recommend." He opens a drawer and pulls out a paddle. He holds it firmly. He then proceeds to bend over a chair. He says, "We have the child bend over a chair, like so. And then we ask the parent to paddle them, three times, hard." Meanwhile he is spanking himself with this paddle, three times, hard. It's disturbing. If you have to go back and reread this paragraph, then do it. I'll wait.So then he hands me the paddle and he walks out. I'm frozen. I look at my daughter. She looks at me. We are in a daze. Finally I say, well, you heard the man...bend over the chair. She gets a horrified look on her face. The problem is, I know when she emerges from this room they fully expect her to be in tears. They want me to paddle her, three times, hard. She bends over the chair and I manage one very weak attempt at a spanking. The second time is a bit harder. She perks up a bit and tells me that it hurt. I don't see the point in doing it a third time. I send her out to say sorry. It is then that he chooses to give us both a lecture on the purposes of a tongue. It is for eating and talking and ... he leaves himself open for a third thing...but think about it. There is really no third thing...but he can't just end the sentence because inflection has ended up and we are not at the natural end of a sentence. So he says, It is for eating and talking and ... other things.OTHER THINGS?! What other things...that's what I want to know. What the heck is he talking about. He feels the vibe is strange, and mumbles something to my little one about growing up and working and how coworkers will not like it if she sticks her tongue out. I'm just trying to get the F out of there. A few days later a note was sent home with her. It spells out that she has thrown a temper tantrum twice and if it happens a third time they will call me to come in and paddle her. There it was again, in black and white. Paddle. Did I mention this is a private Christian school?Now, whenever I ask how her day was she says, 'I didn't Sin, so that's good, right mommy?"I wonder what age she will be when she seeks out her first therapist.
The other day my daughter stuck her tongue out. She pushed it way out there and the teacher was pissed. Then she did it again. She was told to stop, yet, for good measure, she stuck it out there one more time. Well, that was that. The teacher pulled her into the office and had a talk with her. They told her to go into 'timeout.' She refused. They told her to sit down and be still, she refused. They called her father. He read her the riot act. She promised to oblige. But didn't.So they called me. I mean really? What am I going to do? Get on the phone with her and in my meanest voice tell her to knock it off? Well, actually the school had something different in mind. They asked me to make my way to the building. This was a serious infraction and she needed to be 'punished.'So off I go. When I get there she is in the office. The principal talks to me about her behavior. About how they will not tolerate a child disobeying. About how awful it is to stick your tongue out. He suggests to me that I punish my daughter in private, and then send her out to apologize to the teacher. Then he does something I still cannot believe. He says, "Here is what we recommend." He opens a drawer and pulls out a paddle. He holds it firmly. He then proceeds to bend over a chair. He says, "We have the child bend over a chair, like so. And then we ask the parent to paddle them, three times, hard." Meanwhile he is spanking himself with this paddle, three times, hard. It's disturbing. If you have to go back and reread this paragraph, then do it. I'll wait.So then he hands me the paddle and he walks out. I'm frozen. I look at my daughter. She looks at me. We are in a daze. Finally I say, well, you heard the man...bend over the chair. She gets a horrified look on her face. The problem is, I know when she emerges from this room they fully expect her to be in tears. They want me to paddle her, three times, hard. She bends over the chair and I manage one very weak attempt at a spanking. The second time is a bit harder. She perks up a bit and tells me that it hurt. I don't see the point in doing it a third time. I send her out to say sorry. It is then that he chooses to give us both a lecture on the purposes of a tongue. It is for eating and talking and ... he leaves himself open for a third thing...but think about it. There is really no third thing...but he can't just end the sentence because inflection has ended up and we are not at the natural end of a sentence. So he says, It is for eating and talking and ... other things.OTHER THINGS?! What other things...that's what I want to know. What the heck is he talking about. He feels the vibe is strange, and mumbles something to my little one about growing up and working and how coworkers will not like it if she sticks her tongue out. I'm just trying to get the F out of there. A few days later a note was sent home with her. It spells out that she has thrown a temper tantrum twice and if it happens a third time they will call me to come in and paddle her. There it was again, in black and white. Paddle. Did I mention this is a private Christian school?Now, whenever I ask how her day was she says, 'I didn't Sin, so that's good, right mommy?"I wonder what age she will be when she seeks out her first therapist.
Did you hear the one about the shrink?
(Original Post: November 14, 2006 - Tuesday)
I'm about to start a new relationship. I usually hate getting into something different. The whole introduction phase, the 'getting to know you' bullshit. I met him online. I mean, where else right?
No one has time to go searching anymore. Unless of course your search only requires you to enter a zip code. But I'm willing to drive a bit for this one. I could have picked someone closer to me. I would probably be able to see him more often. But if you know me, you know I like to drive far, far away to visit my men.So I'm anxious.
We are meeting Monday. Will he like me? Will he judge me? He's going to want me on my back. Men are all the same right? Hopefully we can talk a bit first. I mean, eventually I will lay down for him, but just not right away. This is my first time after all.
People have been telling me to hook up with a guy like him. But I never listen. Instead I date an arm biter or a coworker. Instead I get involved with a Nazi or some other crazy. Finally though, I'm ready. I can tell this one is going to last. We spoke on the phone today and I could just hear concern in his voice.
He's not going to ignore me for days on end. He's not going to hide how he feels. He's not going to make me apologize for how I am. He's going to accept me. Wow, what a concept. He has a PhD. And I'm going to have to pay him by the hour. But he's going to teach me how not to abandon myself. Let the therapy begin.
I'm about to start a new relationship. I usually hate getting into something different. The whole introduction phase, the 'getting to know you' bullshit. I met him online. I mean, where else right?
No one has time to go searching anymore. Unless of course your search only requires you to enter a zip code. But I'm willing to drive a bit for this one. I could have picked someone closer to me. I would probably be able to see him more often. But if you know me, you know I like to drive far, far away to visit my men.So I'm anxious.
We are meeting Monday. Will he like me? Will he judge me? He's going to want me on my back. Men are all the same right? Hopefully we can talk a bit first. I mean, eventually I will lay down for him, but just not right away. This is my first time after all.
People have been telling me to hook up with a guy like him. But I never listen. Instead I date an arm biter or a coworker. Instead I get involved with a Nazi or some other crazy. Finally though, I'm ready. I can tell this one is going to last. We spoke on the phone today and I could just hear concern in his voice.
He's not going to ignore me for days on end. He's not going to hide how he feels. He's not going to make me apologize for how I am. He's going to accept me. Wow, what a concept. He has a PhD. And I'm going to have to pay him by the hour. But he's going to teach me how not to abandon myself. Let the therapy begin.
Twenty-ten and the mystery globe
(Original Post: November 7, 2006 - Tuesday)
So today is the day. Thirty years ago today I was hatched. I mean, if you want to get super technical, I actually turned 30 nine months ago. How come that time in the womb doesn't count for anything?
Gift cards are all the rage these days.
I've received a gift card to Victorias Secret, Golden Corral, Target and Hair experts! I will soon be a new underwear having, new hair color sporting, new jeans wearing chick who is slightly heavier. All because my mom and dad had unprotected sex when they were 19.I got flowers in the mail today and my students sang happy birthday. They all signed a card and wished me well. Truly concerned. I also received a Globe. I do not know who sent the globe. It is however, beautiful. I mean, it stands out and I would like to thank whoever got it for me. But no one has come forward to claim it. So if it is you dear reader, well thank you. Although yesterday I was lost looking for Outback, and the globe was pretty much useless. How about some GPS next year huh? Just install it in my car when I'm not looking, since it seems to turn you on to give gifts and get no credit.
As for tonight, it's Tuesday. I'm not living it up or partying down. I'm not painting the town or even touring it. I am watching some TV and then calling it a night. I'm tired and I have the bi-annual physical readiness test tomorrow. The bad news is I have to wake up early. The good news is I'm 30 and 11 push-ups is passing when you're 30. If I can pump out 17 the Navy will think I'm a super stud. So will I to be honest.But after the glow of the new PRT numbers fade, well, it'll just be Wednesday. And I'll just be in my 30s. Twenty-ten. A lot has to happen this year.1. I have to buy a house.2. I have to clean up my credit. (probably not in that order)3. I have to find out who sent that fucking mystery globe.
So today is the day. Thirty years ago today I was hatched. I mean, if you want to get super technical, I actually turned 30 nine months ago. How come that time in the womb doesn't count for anything?
Gift cards are all the rage these days.
I've received a gift card to Victorias Secret, Golden Corral, Target and Hair experts! I will soon be a new underwear having, new hair color sporting, new jeans wearing chick who is slightly heavier. All because my mom and dad had unprotected sex when they were 19.I got flowers in the mail today and my students sang happy birthday. They all signed a card and wished me well. Truly concerned. I also received a Globe. I do not know who sent the globe. It is however, beautiful. I mean, it stands out and I would like to thank whoever got it for me. But no one has come forward to claim it. So if it is you dear reader, well thank you. Although yesterday I was lost looking for Outback, and the globe was pretty much useless. How about some GPS next year huh? Just install it in my car when I'm not looking, since it seems to turn you on to give gifts and get no credit.
As for tonight, it's Tuesday. I'm not living it up or partying down. I'm not painting the town or even touring it. I am watching some TV and then calling it a night. I'm tired and I have the bi-annual physical readiness test tomorrow. The bad news is I have to wake up early. The good news is I'm 30 and 11 push-ups is passing when you're 30. If I can pump out 17 the Navy will think I'm a super stud. So will I to be honest.But after the glow of the new PRT numbers fade, well, it'll just be Wednesday. And I'll just be in my 30s. Twenty-ten. A lot has to happen this year.1. I have to buy a house.2. I have to clean up my credit. (probably not in that order)3. I have to find out who sent that fucking mystery globe.
The real world with its fake expectations
(Original Post: November 2, 2006 - Thursday)
I have been bombarded with the word "real" lately. Real life. Real world. Real love. Real bullshit.Who defines what's real? We've got fake tits, fake eye color, fake nails, fake hair; even fake sympathy and remorse. It's all an act to keep the people around us pleased. The better we look, the more we smile, the softer we appear, the more chance we have of succeeding and gaining acceptance. We fake it in the workplace and in the bedroom. We fake it at the checkout stand and in the drive thru. Can I get a Happy Meal with Fake fries and a diet coke.
I have been bombarded with the word "real" lately. Real life. Real world. Real love. Real bullshit.Who defines what's real? We've got fake tits, fake eye color, fake nails, fake hair; even fake sympathy and remorse. It's all an act to keep the people around us pleased. The better we look, the more we smile, the softer we appear, the more chance we have of succeeding and gaining acceptance. We fake it in the workplace and in the bedroom. We fake it at the checkout stand and in the drive thru. Can I get a Happy Meal with Fake fries and a diet coke. Unconditional. The only way to be real is to be unconditional. Accept people for exactly who they are and allow them to do whatever it is that makes them happy. Actually care about someone else's happiness more than you care about your own. Try taking responsibility for your own feelings once in a while.
The other day I sent an email. I expected an email in return. It never appeared. I started to get upset. I started to feel vulnerable and needy. So I sent another email. I expected an email in return this time for sure. Still nothing. Now I'm mad. I blame the recipient of my emails. How dare he hurt me like this. Real means having no expectations. Never being disappointed. And doing things without cause or hope for a return on your investment.Today I sent an email because I wanted to. I didn't expect a response. And I didn't get one. But I wasn't upset. I wasn't even let down or disappointed. Because my intentions weren't fake. I only wanted to send an email. No expectations, therefore no disappointment. However, I just sent a text message. It's been ten minutes with no response. I feel myself getting a bit irritated. I'm such a fake conditional bitch. But my tits are real.
Is he a bargain?
(Original Post: October 18, 2006 - Wednesday)
As you all know My friend and I went to Cancun, Mexico. Awesome right? Of course! And more recently My friend and I went on a cruise, which took us to Cozumel, Mexico. And as you all know, shopping is an interactive experience there.
They say I want 600 bucks for that stuff, you say I'll give you 100, they say, 360, you say 100, they say 270, you say 100, and then they say, get lost. And you do.
One of two things happen at this point. Either A, you choose to fucking live without that shit, or B, you wait until that person calls you back in to make a deal. This happened both times. The first time to My friend. She wanted some stuff, they couldn't settle on a price, we told her to just forget about it and go, but she didn't want to. We finally convinced her to leave the store, but fuck! She was pissed. She wanted that shit! She had been to all the other stores and she hadn't found that exact shit.
She knew she had only one option. Go back into the store and make a deal.
My friend and I ran into that again recently. In a store, finding unique bullshit that we couldn't live without. We go up to bargain and he won't settle. Not on the price we want. So we walk. But I'm pissed. Cause I want that shit. And walking away from it was hard. But it wasn't priced right. And at the end of the day I had to convince myself that it really didn't look that good on me anyway. (But deep down, I knew it did.)
Relationships are the same way. You walk around a foreign country for what feels like years. Everyone seems to be speaking a different language. But then it happens. Just when you weren't looking you walk smack into the perfect store. It has everything you think you want. You are thrilled. You try it on. It fits perfect. The color is just right.
Then you start to negotiate.
You say marriage and babies. He says, friends with benefits. You say engaged and the pill. He says, sex and candy. You say Girlfriend/boyfriend. He says, friend that's a girl.
What happens when you can't agree on a price? Your friends will tell you to leave the shit in the store. But you know it's not that easy. You've fucking walked the entire country. You've poked into more stores than you care to remember. Some didn't have air conditioning. Some didn't even have windows.
But they will say, hey, walk out. Maybe he'll come back out and try to deal. But do you risk it? Do you just push the stuff back on the shelf, say later days and hope for the best. Or do you pay the 600 bucks and just be glad it wasn't any more than that? After all, you haven't seen anything else like it anywhere else.
I've got the money, but I'm still holding out for the deal.
As you all know My friend and I went to Cancun, Mexico. Awesome right? Of course! And more recently My friend and I went on a cruise, which took us to Cozumel, Mexico. And as you all know, shopping is an interactive experience there.
They say I want 600 bucks for that stuff, you say I'll give you 100, they say, 360, you say 100, they say 270, you say 100, and then they say, get lost. And you do.
One of two things happen at this point. Either A, you choose to fucking live without that shit, or B, you wait until that person calls you back in to make a deal. This happened both times. The first time to My friend. She wanted some stuff, they couldn't settle on a price, we told her to just forget about it and go, but she didn't want to. We finally convinced her to leave the store, but fuck! She was pissed. She wanted that shit! She had been to all the other stores and she hadn't found that exact shit.
She knew she had only one option. Go back into the store and make a deal.
My friend and I ran into that again recently. In a store, finding unique bullshit that we couldn't live without. We go up to bargain and he won't settle. Not on the price we want. So we walk. But I'm pissed. Cause I want that shit. And walking away from it was hard. But it wasn't priced right. And at the end of the day I had to convince myself that it really didn't look that good on me anyway. (But deep down, I knew it did.)
Relationships are the same way. You walk around a foreign country for what feels like years. Everyone seems to be speaking a different language. But then it happens. Just when you weren't looking you walk smack into the perfect store. It has everything you think you want. You are thrilled. You try it on. It fits perfect. The color is just right.
Then you start to negotiate.
You say marriage and babies. He says, friends with benefits. You say engaged and the pill. He says, sex and candy. You say Girlfriend/boyfriend. He says, friend that's a girl.
What happens when you can't agree on a price? Your friends will tell you to leave the shit in the store. But you know it's not that easy. You've fucking walked the entire country. You've poked into more stores than you care to remember. Some didn't have air conditioning. Some didn't even have windows.
But they will say, hey, walk out. Maybe he'll come back out and try to deal. But do you risk it? Do you just push the stuff back on the shelf, say later days and hope for the best. Or do you pay the 600 bucks and just be glad it wasn't any more than that? After all, you haven't seen anything else like it anywhere else.
I've got the money, but I'm still holding out for the deal.
The Three Year Itch
(Original Post: October 17, 2006 - Tuesday)
It's happening. That itch. The twitch. The gripe of a bitch unhappy with her sitch. Let me pitch it to you this way, cause that way is their way, and there's no way I can be happy in that niche.
The Navy has taught me, molded me, scolded me, bought me out. Told me that happy only lasts three years, then fears of confinement set in, and you know it's time my friend, to move on. We all know the feeling. Too well. It dwells. Sells your mind to the first bidder, who will fix and flip. Sip wine while they rip out your insides, and put in stainless steal appliances and stone floors. You'll sell for more that way. You can't stay in one place too long, the same ol' song and dance doesn't stand a chance. We've got to bob and weave, send and receive, and eventually leave. We achieve the goal we set for our soul and then call the detailer when we are in our window. A window you can't see through, and won't ever open. Hoping for air or simple solution. But it will never bring resolution. And you will complain around every bend, but you will sign those papers and volunteer again. Cause it's dependable and steady. The only thing in your life that is. This biz isn't always about peace, but honor pays the current lease. And I know I'll shed those world-weight tears, as I watch my daughter wave from all those piers, as I sail off to places I have no business being, and see things I'd be better off not seeing. Whatever the case, I'm on my way to a ship to take a dip in the Atlantic for a bit. Give me three years to fix, then I'll flip. I can see new wooden floors from here. The Navy loves me. This I know. It's a creed and a code that tell me so. Little ones to it belong. Alone we are weak ... and together, just weak in a group. Hello Virginia. Goodbye to my Land of Mary. I'm weary, oh so very, ready to change my course and keep it steady. For three years, at most. Then return to shore and retire there. With my daughter there, and a closet full of clothes I'm allowed to wear.
It's happening. That itch. The twitch. The gripe of a bitch unhappy with her sitch. Let me pitch it to you this way, cause that way is their way, and there's no way I can be happy in that niche.
The Navy has taught me, molded me, scolded me, bought me out. Told me that happy only lasts three years, then fears of confinement set in, and you know it's time my friend, to move on. We all know the feeling. Too well. It dwells. Sells your mind to the first bidder, who will fix and flip. Sip wine while they rip out your insides, and put in stainless steal appliances and stone floors. You'll sell for more that way. You can't stay in one place too long, the same ol' song and dance doesn't stand a chance. We've got to bob and weave, send and receive, and eventually leave. We achieve the goal we set for our soul and then call the detailer when we are in our window. A window you can't see through, and won't ever open. Hoping for air or simple solution. But it will never bring resolution. And you will complain around every bend, but you will sign those papers and volunteer again. Cause it's dependable and steady. The only thing in your life that is. This biz isn't always about peace, but honor pays the current lease. And I know I'll shed those world-weight tears, as I watch my daughter wave from all those piers, as I sail off to places I have no business being, and see things I'd be better off not seeing. Whatever the case, I'm on my way to a ship to take a dip in the Atlantic for a bit. Give me three years to fix, then I'll flip. I can see new wooden floors from here. The Navy loves me. This I know. It's a creed and a code that tell me so. Little ones to it belong. Alone we are weak ... and together, just weak in a group. Hello Virginia. Goodbye to my Land of Mary. I'm weary, oh so very, ready to change my course and keep it steady. For three years, at most. Then return to shore and retire there. With my daughter there, and a closet full of clothes I'm allowed to wear.
No Focus
I was reminded the other day about our country's lack of focus.
Focus. I teach it to my students every day. I teach them what a broad focus is. I teach them how to narrow it. I teach them how to concentrate on one aspect of one thing to complete one story. They are even required to fill out a FOCUS STATEMENT, stating their focus for me clearly, before I will even let them begin a story. Yet I've got none. I thought it was just me. However, the other day I went to drop my daughter off at school and I was running a bit behind. The teacher needed to pull me aside to speak briefly with me about my little one and her lack of focus. "She is all over the place. She's under the table, she's flipping her hair, and sometimes she's just non responsive."I didn't respond. All I could focus on was the clock.What did I learn from that conversation? That we are in a world of broad focus. And we wonder why we can't accomplish shit?A former student wrote me the other day about her daughter. Same sitch. The teacher called her in to discuss the little girl's lack of FOCUS. The teacher went as far as to say, "I've never had this much problem teaching a student in my entire career." WOW.I mean, I look at the problems in my life. I 'take a peek' actually. I don't really LOOK. Because I don't REALLY want to SEE. But if I would just pick one thing to focus on, I could alleviate so much of what I consider to be problems. Example: I have a bill. It's in the thousands. I want to pay it off. But I also want to get my nails done every two weeks, take a cruise, fly to Cancun, buy a new pair of shoes and dye my hair. So I pay off a thousand and spend a thousand. NO FOCUS.Our world has no focus. I asked my students where they were when the Trade Centers went down. They all recalled their stories. One guy remembered his teacher writing a bunch of names on the board and pointing to Osama's name and saying, some people think he is responsible for this. So the world went after him...and we caught Saddam? NO FUCKING FOCUS.
Focus. I teach it to my students every day. I teach them what a broad focus is. I teach them how to narrow it. I teach them how to concentrate on one aspect of one thing to complete one story. They are even required to fill out a FOCUS STATEMENT, stating their focus for me clearly, before I will even let them begin a story. Yet I've got none. I thought it was just me. However, the other day I went to drop my daughter off at school and I was running a bit behind. The teacher needed to pull me aside to speak briefly with me about my little one and her lack of focus. "She is all over the place. She's under the table, she's flipping her hair, and sometimes she's just non responsive."I didn't respond. All I could focus on was the clock.What did I learn from that conversation? That we are in a world of broad focus. And we wonder why we can't accomplish shit?A former student wrote me the other day about her daughter. Same sitch. The teacher called her in to discuss the little girl's lack of FOCUS. The teacher went as far as to say, "I've never had this much problem teaching a student in my entire career." WOW.I mean, I look at the problems in my life. I 'take a peek' actually. I don't really LOOK. Because I don't REALLY want to SEE. But if I would just pick one thing to focus on, I could alleviate so much of what I consider to be problems. Example: I have a bill. It's in the thousands. I want to pay it off. But I also want to get my nails done every two weeks, take a cruise, fly to Cancun, buy a new pair of shoes and dye my hair. So I pay off a thousand and spend a thousand. NO FOCUS.Our world has no focus. I asked my students where they were when the Trade Centers went down. They all recalled their stories. One guy remembered his teacher writing a bunch of names on the board and pointing to Osama's name and saying, some people think he is responsible for this. So the world went after him...and we caught Saddam? NO FUCKING FOCUS.
I went to the kitchen for an orange yesterday. I ended up eating a bag of popcorn. NO FOCUS.I sat down here to update my IPOD and I'm blogging instead. NO FOCUS. I have a hernia. It took me 7 months to make an appointment and it's been 3 months since they diagnosed me. I need to make an appointment to have it taken care of. But I haven't of course. Perhaps I need to use the FOCUS STATEMENT method I teach my students.Broad Focus: Fix my life.Narrower: Take more time for myself and set Goals.More Narrow: Get some hobbies and go back to college.Even More Narrow: Take a dance class and a Spanish class.And my final Focus: Get my hair done.Cell phone Saga.
(Original Post: October 2, 2006 - Monday)
My phone battery is almost dead. I don't want to recharge it. We are too easy to access these days. What about the days when you didn't have a piece of electronics attached to your ear, JIC (Just In Case) someone wanted to call you. And what does anyone have to say these days that can't wait? Typical Phone Call:"Hey, What's up? It's Chris."
"Yeah, I know, I've got caller ID on my cell phone and a picture of you comes up when you call so I know which Chris it is. How are you?"
"I"m good."
"Yeah, me too."
"Did you have a good day at work?"
"Yeah, you were there. You asked me how I was and how my day was going and I said fine. It hasn't changed in the past 12 minutes."
"Alright cool. Well I just called to say Hi."
"Hi."
"I'll call you later."
"I can hardly fucking wait."
"See you at work tomorrow."
"Awesome. Why don't you call me before I get in?"
"Will do."
"Bye."
Most of my conversations are done out of guilt. That's right. You have a cell phone. You have free minutes. You have a phone book full of what you've grown to consider 'close friends.' Yet you never call them. So now we use these numbers to call our 'friends' when we are: A. Waiting for someone else to call us. B. Waiting in line somewhere. C. Driving long distances.
When I was a kid I couldn't wait to get on the phone. Grounding me consisted of not letting me watch TV or talk on the phone. And I was FUCKING PISSED. TV was no big deal...but NO PHONE! I would love to just throw the phone out the window and never look back. But we've become dependent. We NEED the phone. We need that useless conversation. At least when our phone was in our home we could convince ourselves that we had friends, they would just call when we weren't home. Then answering machines came out. So we would just convince ourselves that our friends were too cool to leave messages. Now we have a device that we bring around with us wherever we go. They tell us to turn it off in the movie theater, but no one does. They just put in on vibrate. No one wants to miss a call. And if no one calls. Then no one cares. And now you carry around that tiny little device that taunts you with its silence. And when it does ring you look around. Pretty proud of yourself for having a friend. But you know what it really means. Someone is on a road trip.
My phone battery is almost dead. I don't want to recharge it. We are too easy to access these days. What about the days when you didn't have a piece of electronics attached to your ear, JIC (Just In Case) someone wanted to call you. And what does anyone have to say these days that can't wait? Typical Phone Call:"Hey, What's up? It's Chris."
"Yeah, I know, I've got caller ID on my cell phone and a picture of you comes up when you call so I know which Chris it is. How are you?"
"I"m good."
"Yeah, me too."
"Did you have a good day at work?"
"Yeah, you were there. You asked me how I was and how my day was going and I said fine. It hasn't changed in the past 12 minutes."
"Alright cool. Well I just called to say Hi."
"Hi."
"I'll call you later."
"I can hardly fucking wait."
"See you at work tomorrow."
"Awesome. Why don't you call me before I get in?"
"Will do."
"Bye."
Most of my conversations are done out of guilt. That's right. You have a cell phone. You have free minutes. You have a phone book full of what you've grown to consider 'close friends.' Yet you never call them. So now we use these numbers to call our 'friends' when we are: A. Waiting for someone else to call us. B. Waiting in line somewhere. C. Driving long distances.
When I was a kid I couldn't wait to get on the phone. Grounding me consisted of not letting me watch TV or talk on the phone. And I was FUCKING PISSED. TV was no big deal...but NO PHONE! I would love to just throw the phone out the window and never look back. But we've become dependent. We NEED the phone. We need that useless conversation. At least when our phone was in our home we could convince ourselves that we had friends, they would just call when we weren't home. Then answering machines came out. So we would just convince ourselves that our friends were too cool to leave messages. Now we have a device that we bring around with us wherever we go. They tell us to turn it off in the movie theater, but no one does. They just put in on vibrate. No one wants to miss a call. And if no one calls. Then no one cares. And now you carry around that tiny little device that taunts you with its silence. And when it does ring you look around. Pretty proud of yourself for having a friend. But you know what it really means. Someone is on a road trip.
A few of my favorite things, and some things I hate
(Original Post: September 23, 2006 - Saturday)
I woke up this morning and thought I was late for work. I hate when that happens. However, I love the moment you realize it's a weekend.I hate when you come home and your roommate gets mad at you because you are using her meat scissors to open a package. To my defense, I didn't at the time know what meat scissors were exactly. I thought it was just a cutting device stationed in the kitchen for convenience. However, once I realized they really are for cutting meat, I said I was sorry. And now I only use them to cut paper...not boxes. And why are they called scissors. Is there two of them? Is each blade a scissor. If I broke half of the device, would I then say, hey, pass me the scissor? I love when it's hot out because I get to wear sandals, but I'm always complaining about the heat. Until it gets cold, then I'm pissed because sweaters make me look fat.I hate that last night the neon sign at Taco Bell said 'Drive Thru Open' but when I went through it was closed. I hate when loved ones get mad at me for testing their loyalty. If I don't test, how do I know? How come students don't get mad when you test them? What if they said, "Hey, why do you continue to quiz and test? Don't you trust that I know the information? I can't believe you don't believe in me. We're over."Paris Hilton tests her friends. She picks out two dresses. One that looks horrible on her and one that looks amazing. She asks the girl which one she should wear. If the girl picks the ugly one, Paris ends the friendship.I should start doing that. Like, Hey, should I order the plain chicken with a side salad or should I get the cheesy chili curly fries with onions and bacon covered in ranch? If they give me the hundred pound answer, I eat it, and then cut them out of my life forever. Even Adam and Eve were tested. Maybe Adam should have said, God, bro, check it out. I'm gonna mess it all up down here. So stop testing me. Because you'll continue to disappoint yourself. And I like you too much to let you do that. Don't you hate those moments in a relationship where your other half gets up to use the restroom and you have a decision to make...check the phone or not. I love when you can make the decision not to check. I hate when you decide to check and the first message you see says, 'In the Ass?'That's never a good sign.
I woke up this morning and thought I was late for work. I hate when that happens. However, I love the moment you realize it's a weekend.I hate when you come home and your roommate gets mad at you because you are using her meat scissors to open a package. To my defense, I didn't at the time know what meat scissors were exactly. I thought it was just a cutting device stationed in the kitchen for convenience. However, once I realized they really are for cutting meat, I said I was sorry. And now I only use them to cut paper...not boxes. And why are they called scissors. Is there two of them? Is each blade a scissor. If I broke half of the device, would I then say, hey, pass me the scissor? I love when it's hot out because I get to wear sandals, but I'm always complaining about the heat. Until it gets cold, then I'm pissed because sweaters make me look fat.I hate that last night the neon sign at Taco Bell said 'Drive Thru Open' but when I went through it was closed. I hate when loved ones get mad at me for testing their loyalty. If I don't test, how do I know? How come students don't get mad when you test them? What if they said, "Hey, why do you continue to quiz and test? Don't you trust that I know the information? I can't believe you don't believe in me. We're over."Paris Hilton tests her friends. She picks out two dresses. One that looks horrible on her and one that looks amazing. She asks the girl which one she should wear. If the girl picks the ugly one, Paris ends the friendship.I should start doing that. Like, Hey, should I order the plain chicken with a side salad or should I get the cheesy chili curly fries with onions and bacon covered in ranch? If they give me the hundred pound answer, I eat it, and then cut them out of my life forever. Even Adam and Eve were tested. Maybe Adam should have said, God, bro, check it out. I'm gonna mess it all up down here. So stop testing me. Because you'll continue to disappoint yourself. And I like you too much to let you do that. Don't you hate those moments in a relationship where your other half gets up to use the restroom and you have a decision to make...check the phone or not. I love when you can make the decision not to check. I hate when you decide to check and the first message you see says, 'In the Ass?'That's never a good sign.
A few coming of age tales
(Original Post: September 10, 2006 - Sunday)
30.
Three F'n Zero.
Thirty.
Twenty-Ten.
No matter how you say it, it's said. And I'm almost going to have to show an ID with that age on it. Up till this point I've been able to justify most of my behavior. I dated a 22-year-old a few years ago. We went to an Italian place and had an ok time. He told me he needed to stop by his house for something on the way to the bar. Cool. When we pulled up he said, my roommates are home. When I got in the house I found out his roommates were mom and pop. He still lived at home. Turns out he needed to come home to shit. ?!? While he crapped, I scanned the walls. All the while listening to his mother take me for a walk down memory lane. "This is him in high school. This is his prom date Susan. Oh, this is his football picture. He played Varsity." A very proud mother, and an all of a sudden 'to tired to go to the bar' me. In Italy I dated this guy from the ship. He was a nerd. I'm talking, skinny, short, predictable, nice-guy nerd. He was a bit of a Harley guy though, and always wore a bandana on his head. But, Harmless right? We had been friends for awhile, so when he asked me out I thought, why not? Well I'll tell you why not. Half way through the meal he said, 'can we stop by my hotel room when we leave here?' I figured he needed to change his bandana or something. I ask, "What do you need to get there?" He said, I was hoping we could do it. "Can I finish my fries first Romeo?" HELL NO. He said he is usually really shy with girls and they always break up with him so he decided to take the opposite approach. I just stared. He said, I've ruined the night haven't I? You think?I dated a guy because he had the same last name as me. I dated a guy because he looked like Dane Cook. I dated a guy who only owned one f'n orange shirt. I mean, did he think I wouldn't notice that he looked like a pumpkin every time I saw him? I dated a guy once who later informed me he was a Nazi. I dated a guy who basically ate my arm during a movie. He just kept putting it in his mouth and making slurping noises. I dated a guy who was living with another girl. He kept calling me Sabrina. You'd think I'd catch on. I dated a 21-year-old who asked me not to tell anyone because he was afraid his mom would find out. I went to a club with my girls and I accidentally smiled at some guy. He grabbed me, told me my shirt was beautiful and then tried to enter my skin. I danced with him for a few seconds. When I say dance I mean, snapped my fingers while moving left to right and looking all over the f'n place for a safe house. Finally I just said thank you, grabbed his shoulders and moved him away from me. Who decided 30 was the new 20? That is just an excuse for older people to eat arms. Let's finally call it what it is. Time to grow up.
30.
Three F'n Zero.
Thirty.
Twenty-Ten.
No matter how you say it, it's said. And I'm almost going to have to show an ID with that age on it. Up till this point I've been able to justify most of my behavior. I dated a 22-year-old a few years ago. We went to an Italian place and had an ok time. He told me he needed to stop by his house for something on the way to the bar. Cool. When we pulled up he said, my roommates are home. When I got in the house I found out his roommates were mom and pop. He still lived at home. Turns out he needed to come home to shit. ?!? While he crapped, I scanned the walls. All the while listening to his mother take me for a walk down memory lane. "This is him in high school. This is his prom date Susan. Oh, this is his football picture. He played Varsity." A very proud mother, and an all of a sudden 'to tired to go to the bar' me. In Italy I dated this guy from the ship. He was a nerd. I'm talking, skinny, short, predictable, nice-guy nerd. He was a bit of a Harley guy though, and always wore a bandana on his head. But, Harmless right? We had been friends for awhile, so when he asked me out I thought, why not? Well I'll tell you why not. Half way through the meal he said, 'can we stop by my hotel room when we leave here?' I figured he needed to change his bandana or something. I ask, "What do you need to get there?" He said, I was hoping we could do it. "Can I finish my fries first Romeo?" HELL NO. He said he is usually really shy with girls and they always break up with him so he decided to take the opposite approach. I just stared. He said, I've ruined the night haven't I? You think?I dated a guy because he had the same last name as me. I dated a guy because he looked like Dane Cook. I dated a guy who only owned one f'n orange shirt. I mean, did he think I wouldn't notice that he looked like a pumpkin every time I saw him? I dated a guy once who later informed me he was a Nazi. I dated a guy who basically ate my arm during a movie. He just kept putting it in his mouth and making slurping noises. I dated a guy who was living with another girl. He kept calling me Sabrina. You'd think I'd catch on. I dated a 21-year-old who asked me not to tell anyone because he was afraid his mom would find out. I went to a club with my girls and I accidentally smiled at some guy. He grabbed me, told me my shirt was beautiful and then tried to enter my skin. I danced with him for a few seconds. When I say dance I mean, snapped my fingers while moving left to right and looking all over the f'n place for a safe house. Finally I just said thank you, grabbed his shoulders and moved him away from me. Who decided 30 was the new 20? That is just an excuse for older people to eat arms. Let's finally call it what it is. Time to grow up.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
El Legunez
(Original Post: September 7, 2006 - Thursday)
Can someone tell me what the fuck is up with people deciding to date Lagoon Creatures? I mean, I know the old saying ... Date one down.
Meaning If you consider yourself a 7 then date a 6. If you are a 6, then date a 5. Now if you are a 5 but think you're a 7 and date a 6 by accident, then you are fucked. But if you take an honest look at your pros and cons and come up with a number (err on the side of uglier or less talented than your first summation) then you should be just fine.
And I also know, as Dane would say, that every now and then we all end up with a Lagoono Creaturo in our bed. That person that makes you itch just looking at them. Like, yes, I see a doctor visit and a cream in my future.
However, lately my gorgeous friends are finding people that don't have an option of dating down. They are bottom of the f'n barrel. Addicted to internet porn, addicted to lying, addicted to cheating, addicted to beer, laziness and their beer belly. Can we please adjust our glasses. Have we really become that desperate?
And it's not just my ladies who are fucking the funky los legunez. Fine ass men are out there missing out on prime choice and wasting time on Pork Rinds! Scrapple if you will! If you don’t' know what Scrapple is, make sure you want to know first.
Ok, back to black. Let's stop the madness already. Follow these rules will you please.
1. If he calls to tell you he finally deleted the naked pictures sent to him by his buddy's wife, and expects you to reward him, dump him.
2. If he has sex with you, then moves out of state and doesn't contact you, then moves back into state and calls you to have sex with him, don't.
3. If he dumps you, ignores you for a week, calls you, takes you to dinner, then dumps you and ignores you, then calls you again, forward his calls to a men’s prison.
4. If the first time you saw his cash and prizes was on the internet, don't agree to meet him. Not even in a well lit public place.
5. If he drives to your house in the snow to leave a note on your car, keep him.
6. If he seems super nice and sweet and asks you Tuesday to go on a date Friday and actually has a time and place and his own transportation, Marry him.
7. If he calls you at 2 am and when you answer you realize he is not dying or stuck in a ravine, hang up the phone and delete his number.
8. If he gets Dane Cook to call you, cherish him.
9. If the only time you ever see him is on the Webcam, get out of the house more.
10. If your high school boyfriend calls, give him back his letterman jacket and tell him you're not going to prom with him.
Can someone tell me what the fuck is up with people deciding to date Lagoon Creatures? I mean, I know the old saying ... Date one down.
Meaning If you consider yourself a 7 then date a 6. If you are a 6, then date a 5. Now if you are a 5 but think you're a 7 and date a 6 by accident, then you are fucked. But if you take an honest look at your pros and cons and come up with a number (err on the side of uglier or less talented than your first summation) then you should be just fine.
And I also know, as Dane would say, that every now and then we all end up with a Lagoono Creaturo in our bed. That person that makes you itch just looking at them. Like, yes, I see a doctor visit and a cream in my future.
However, lately my gorgeous friends are finding people that don't have an option of dating down. They are bottom of the f'n barrel. Addicted to internet porn, addicted to lying, addicted to cheating, addicted to beer, laziness and their beer belly. Can we please adjust our glasses. Have we really become that desperate?
And it's not just my ladies who are fucking the funky los legunez. Fine ass men are out there missing out on prime choice and wasting time on Pork Rinds! Scrapple if you will! If you don’t' know what Scrapple is, make sure you want to know first.
Ok, back to black. Let's stop the madness already. Follow these rules will you please.
1. If he calls to tell you he finally deleted the naked pictures sent to him by his buddy's wife, and expects you to reward him, dump him.
2. If he has sex with you, then moves out of state and doesn't contact you, then moves back into state and calls you to have sex with him, don't.
3. If he dumps you, ignores you for a week, calls you, takes you to dinner, then dumps you and ignores you, then calls you again, forward his calls to a men’s prison.
4. If the first time you saw his cash and prizes was on the internet, don't agree to meet him. Not even in a well lit public place.
5. If he drives to your house in the snow to leave a note on your car, keep him.
6. If he seems super nice and sweet and asks you Tuesday to go on a date Friday and actually has a time and place and his own transportation, Marry him.
7. If he calls you at 2 am and when you answer you realize he is not dying or stuck in a ravine, hang up the phone and delete his number.
8. If he gets Dane Cook to call you, cherish him.
9. If the only time you ever see him is on the Webcam, get out of the house more.
10. If your high school boyfriend calls, give him back his letterman jacket and tell him you're not going to prom with him.
Vacation?
(Original Post: September 3, 2006 - Sunday)
So what is the word meaning, a period of time devoted to the consumption of Alcohol and the making of bad decisions? I need a vacation after my vacation.
Here are the highlights:
In a van. 1 driver, 1 tour guide, four beautiful ladies in their late twenties, early thirties (us!), four totally old geezers, and four teen-to-20s people. The tour guide is telling a story about the creation of the world. We were made of clay, but water swept us away, we were made of wood, but we were burned, and then finally we were made of cornmeal or something and we lived forever. The oldies in the front are all ears. I'm telling Dane Cook jokes in the middle, and the youngies are like "dude this is lame, oh God, those people are old, awe, someone kill me."
One of the guys was telling a story about how he tried to buy pot and there was a guy holding a gun and he was like, all I got is 40 bucks, don't shoot. And then the girl was like, Dude we are all little pieces of corn bread! They should be adding me onto their MySpace as I type this! lol.
It was Candi, Kelly, Rebecca and I. Candi has been friends with Kelly and Rebecca for as long as she can remember. We go to Senior Frogs, because apparently that is where the Gringos are! Which is all Rebecca wanted to know. We are in Mexico, at a Mexican eatery and Rebecca is like, "Senior, Where oh where are the Gringos!?" So he sends us to Senior Frogs. And trust me, the more you drink, the more you are convinced your kiss will turn those frogs to princes. Anyway, as promised, plenty of American men. The host was a black guy who kept wanting us to get up on stage. Rebecca is by far the craziest girl on the planet, so she was always up there and down for whatever. So every five minutes you hear over the club speaker, "Where is Rebecca? Come on crazy girl, get up here." Needless to say, we were not shy of attention. And as titled, all frogs!
We would not pay to go into a place unless they allowed one of us to do a 'walk through.' Rebecca would usually go, but I had to pee at one point, so they sent me so I could use the head. When I got in there all I saw were female mud wrestlers in the middle of the stage. I was like, no way. We are not going in here. By the time I got out, Rebecca had been in to do a walk through as well, and she was like, hell yes, this is the place. The ring eventually transformed into a dance floor and man-made rain was poured on the dance floor. Wet bodies were everywhere. Most were naked. Poor Candi wasn't even moving, bodies were just tossing her into the air. It was classic and it was all captured on film.
So what is the word meaning, a period of time devoted to the consumption of Alcohol and the making of bad decisions? I need a vacation after my vacation.
Here are the highlights:
In a van. 1 driver, 1 tour guide, four beautiful ladies in their late twenties, early thirties (us!), four totally old geezers, and four teen-to-20s people. The tour guide is telling a story about the creation of the world. We were made of clay, but water swept us away, we were made of wood, but we were burned, and then finally we were made of cornmeal or something and we lived forever. The oldies in the front are all ears. I'm telling Dane Cook jokes in the middle, and the youngies are like "dude this is lame, oh God, those people are old, awe, someone kill me."
One of the guys was telling a story about how he tried to buy pot and there was a guy holding a gun and he was like, all I got is 40 bucks, don't shoot. And then the girl was like, Dude we are all little pieces of corn bread! They should be adding me onto their MySpace as I type this! lol.
It was Candi, Kelly, Rebecca and I. Candi has been friends with Kelly and Rebecca for as long as she can remember. We go to Senior Frogs, because apparently that is where the Gringos are! Which is all Rebecca wanted to know. We are in Mexico, at a Mexican eatery and Rebecca is like, "Senior, Where oh where are the Gringos!?" So he sends us to Senior Frogs. And trust me, the more you drink, the more you are convinced your kiss will turn those frogs to princes. Anyway, as promised, plenty of American men. The host was a black guy who kept wanting us to get up on stage. Rebecca is by far the craziest girl on the planet, so she was always up there and down for whatever. So every five minutes you hear over the club speaker, "Where is Rebecca? Come on crazy girl, get up here." Needless to say, we were not shy of attention. And as titled, all frogs!
We would not pay to go into a place unless they allowed one of us to do a 'walk through.' Rebecca would usually go, but I had to pee at one point, so they sent me so I could use the head. When I got in there all I saw were female mud wrestlers in the middle of the stage. I was like, no way. We are not going in here. By the time I got out, Rebecca had been in to do a walk through as well, and she was like, hell yes, this is the place. The ring eventually transformed into a dance floor and man-made rain was poured on the dance floor. Wet bodies were everywhere. Most were naked. Poor Candi wasn't even moving, bodies were just tossing her into the air. It was classic and it was all captured on film.
Top 10 best things about Mexico!
(Original Post: September 1, 2006 - Friday)
Hello from Cancun! I'm going to make this quick. When I get back I will tell you all about it. So far this is what I've observed as being the Top 10 reasons to visit!
1. All the employees are legal!
2. During a massage no one tries to talk to you. (Because they don't understand your ass anyway.)
3. You can get jewelry, blankets, sundresses, real-estate and a car rental from any Mexican in the city.
4. Even if you get totally ripped off you are only out about fifty cents.
5. Showing a breast will get you cover charge and open bar at any club on the strip.
6. The city is like one big dollar store.
7. You can take a water slide from the top floor straight to the bar.
8. More people speak English here than in California.
9. Pesos don't look as heartbreaking as American dollars when they are leaving your pocket.
10. You can always find gum.
Top 10 reasons to keep your ass at home:
1. You can haggle for medication. (scary)
2. Everyone on the street wants to sell you drugs.
3. Every bar seems to be hosting a girls gone wild episode.
4. The same drunk Americans hitting on you, that used to hit on you in the states, only now they have easy access to drugs and the illusion that they are more attractive since they are in Mexico.
5. It costs a buck to send a postcard.
6. No matter what deal you got on your jewelry, someone got it cheaper!
7. There are 7 year olds on the stage shaking their ass during the dance off.
8. Hurricanes!
9. You will now pay 50 bucks for a key chain simply because you managed to haggle him down from the original price of 200!
10. No one here knows who Dane Cook is.
Hello from Cancun! I'm going to make this quick. When I get back I will tell you all about it. So far this is what I've observed as being the Top 10 reasons to visit!
1. All the employees are legal!
2. During a massage no one tries to talk to you. (Because they don't understand your ass anyway.)
3. You can get jewelry, blankets, sundresses, real-estate and a car rental from any Mexican in the city.
4. Even if you get totally ripped off you are only out about fifty cents.
5. Showing a breast will get you cover charge and open bar at any club on the strip.
6. The city is like one big dollar store.
7. You can take a water slide from the top floor straight to the bar.
8. More people speak English here than in California.
9. Pesos don't look as heartbreaking as American dollars when they are leaving your pocket.
10. You can always find gum.
Top 10 reasons to keep your ass at home:
1. You can haggle for medication. (scary)
2. Everyone on the street wants to sell you drugs.
3. Every bar seems to be hosting a girls gone wild episode.
4. The same drunk Americans hitting on you, that used to hit on you in the states, only now they have easy access to drugs and the illusion that they are more attractive since they are in Mexico.
5. It costs a buck to send a postcard.
6. No matter what deal you got on your jewelry, someone got it cheaper!
7. There are 7 year olds on the stage shaking their ass during the dance off.
8. Hurricanes!
9. You will now pay 50 bucks for a key chain simply because you managed to haggle him down from the original price of 200!
10. No one here knows who Dane Cook is.
It's all about the numbers
(Original Post: August 24, 2006 - Thursday)
Ever since I was a young lady I have wanted my own business. The lemonade stand, the car wash, the homemade donut dozens that only grandma would buy, the 'buy candy at the gas station for $.10 and sell it for $.25. I was the queen of 'can do.' I had spirit and personality, and like my mom would say, I had a face that was hard to say no to.
Well, I can honestly say I still think in terms of my own business. I have sold Avon and Mary Kay Cosmetics, I was a lady deserie lingerie consultant and I even started my own Jewelry Company at one point. I aspire to sell the music I write and earn a living on it one day. But one thing has changed. People have learned to say no to my face.
Now, I'm not talking about supply and demand here. I'm not even saying that people don't want to buy the material items I'm selling. Trust me, for every seller, there is a buyer. Just look at Ebay. When someone can trade a paperclip for a house, well, you get my point.
What I'm speaking of is relationships. Big Shocker. I mean, in truth, it is ourselves we are trying to sell. Now don't get me wrong. I'm obviously not talking prostitution. Although I have heard of married couples who struggle in the intimate areas of their relationship and in turn have come up with a Menu of sorts. Husbands are allowed to 'order' off the 'menu.' The menu includes items like, rump roast. I'm sure you can imagine what that translates too. And I'm sure you can also imagine that item being pretty expensive and seasonal.
I also read in a book that if a man wants to have the best sex of his life then he should lay $300 on the table prior to getting started. Nothing motivates a woman like money. But I'm off focus.
When we get dressed, put on makeup, dye our freakin hair, choose a scent...all we are doing is increasing our chances at a sale. Why do you think they call it 'on the market.' You are, in a way, looking for a buyer. And like the pyramids schemes I have come to love, it's all about numbers. In this case, possibly phone numbers. You may already have 6 members on your team, but who knows what could happen to them. One will head back to his wife. One will decide he's not ready for a relationship. One will admit he's gay. One lives with his parents. One calls 'too much.' That really only leaves you with 1 committed member of the team, but you cannot rely on that person to carry the entire project. After all, you're trying to drive away in that pink caddy!
So, you keep putting up the numbers. Eventually building a solid team full of winners, and when it comes time to make a choice, there is actually a choice to be made. You won't even remember the ones that fell to the side during the process, because you were too busy collecting new additions.
It worked for Mary Kay Ash, and it will work for us. Hey, you get to the top of the pyramid and you get to retire an Emeritus. What could be better?
Maybe if we spent more time 'getting the numbers' and less time working with that one struggling 'on the fence' team member who bought the kit, but then stalled, we would spend less time in divorce court.
Divorce has become the morning after pill for adults of the 'till death or something better' generation.
An old married couple sits on a bench. The wife slaps her husband. He says, what is that for, she says, 50 years of terrible sex. Then he slaps her. She says, what is that for? He says, for knowing the difference. She now owns half his shit and he lives in his car.
Numbers people. It's all about the numbers.
Ever since I was a young lady I have wanted my own business. The lemonade stand, the car wash, the homemade donut dozens that only grandma would buy, the 'buy candy at the gas station for $.10 and sell it for $.25. I was the queen of 'can do.' I had spirit and personality, and like my mom would say, I had a face that was hard to say no to.
Well, I can honestly say I still think in terms of my own business. I have sold Avon and Mary Kay Cosmetics, I was a lady deserie lingerie consultant and I even started my own Jewelry Company at one point. I aspire to sell the music I write and earn a living on it one day. But one thing has changed. People have learned to say no to my face.
Now, I'm not talking about supply and demand here. I'm not even saying that people don't want to buy the material items I'm selling. Trust me, for every seller, there is a buyer. Just look at Ebay. When someone can trade a paperclip for a house, well, you get my point.
What I'm speaking of is relationships. Big Shocker. I mean, in truth, it is ourselves we are trying to sell. Now don't get me wrong. I'm obviously not talking prostitution. Although I have heard of married couples who struggle in the intimate areas of their relationship and in turn have come up with a Menu of sorts. Husbands are allowed to 'order' off the 'menu.' The menu includes items like, rump roast. I'm sure you can imagine what that translates too. And I'm sure you can also imagine that item being pretty expensive and seasonal.
I also read in a book that if a man wants to have the best sex of his life then he should lay $300 on the table prior to getting started. Nothing motivates a woman like money. But I'm off focus.
When we get dressed, put on makeup, dye our freakin hair, choose a scent...all we are doing is increasing our chances at a sale. Why do you think they call it 'on the market.' You are, in a way, looking for a buyer. And like the pyramids schemes I have come to love, it's all about numbers. In this case, possibly phone numbers. You may already have 6 members on your team, but who knows what could happen to them. One will head back to his wife. One will decide he's not ready for a relationship. One will admit he's gay. One lives with his parents. One calls 'too much.' That really only leaves you with 1 committed member of the team, but you cannot rely on that person to carry the entire project. After all, you're trying to drive away in that pink caddy!
So, you keep putting up the numbers. Eventually building a solid team full of winners, and when it comes time to make a choice, there is actually a choice to be made. You won't even remember the ones that fell to the side during the process, because you were too busy collecting new additions.
It worked for Mary Kay Ash, and it will work for us. Hey, you get to the top of the pyramid and you get to retire an Emeritus. What could be better?
Maybe if we spent more time 'getting the numbers' and less time working with that one struggling 'on the fence' team member who bought the kit, but then stalled, we would spend less time in divorce court.
Divorce has become the morning after pill for adults of the 'till death or something better' generation.
An old married couple sits on a bench. The wife slaps her husband. He says, what is that for, she says, 50 years of terrible sex. Then he slaps her. She says, what is that for? He says, for knowing the difference. She now owns half his shit and he lives in his car.
Numbers people. It's all about the numbers.
So obviously fucked.
(Original Post: August 23, 2006 - Wednesday)
It's Wednesday. Why is Wednesday so significant? Well, in two days from today I will be in Cancun Mexico with my buddy ol' pal, My friend. I already have a game plan and a phone chain in case someone beautifulladynaps me while I'm there.
Last year I had plans to go to Mexico, but as some of you may remember, I ended up having to cancel that trip. Even though to the naked eye, it may have seemed like MY decision to cancel the trip, it was really a decision made for me. You can check out the two Eminem tickets I still have in my kitchen. That was not exactly a decision I made not to attend, but more like an unwillingness on my part to stand up and say, "Hey, I can't build a fucking chariot today because I spent $350 on a pair of concert tickets, and I'm f'n going bitches."
Right now I'm making a decision not to go out to the car and get my suitcase, but rather to sit in front of this glowing monitor and type a little ditty on decisions.
My daughter is attending private school. A decision me and her father made. A decision, which forced me into the decision to extend my time in Maryland until June. I negotiate for orders in October of this year. I would like to be able to make a decision to transfer somewhere that will benefit everyone, but I don't see that happening.
My ex-husband will be in Hawaii most likely. There is no sea duty for me there, so that is not an option I have. My parents and friends want me to go to California. That seems like a good decision. Except the cost of living there is so high. My friend wants me to transfer to Virginia and purchase a house with her. This is a good opportunity financially, but is it what I really want? What the fuck does Virginia have to offer except overpopulation and Sonic burger? I guess affordable living, except that by affordable I basically mean half a million dollars. Go to Japan? Stay in Maryland? I envy those people who actually make plans and follow through.
I've tried to take the guess work out of Decisions. If we are going to breakfast, it's Denny's and I'm getting a meat lovers. If we are going to lunch, TGI Fridays and I'm ordering chicken ceaser salad. If it's dinner and it's Friday, then it's back to Denny's for Clam Chowder. If it's any other day and we go to an Italian place, I'm getting spaghetti, no ifs ands or buts. If we are at a Mexican establishment, I'm going with the fajitas or rolled tacos. Anywhere else, I'm getting plain chicken or a hamburger.
I would say that I have made two food decisions in my life, and that is not to eat seafood or cheese. But I even fuck up those decisions, because I eat clam chowder and grilled cheese. But I don't like blue cheese. But I do like pizza, but not extra cheese pizza. And I will eat nachos, but I will refuse a cheeseburger. And I'll eat cheese puffs and cheese nips, but I will not eat string cheese. However, I was once forced to try some brie and I didn't so much mind that, but if we are traveling to Wisconsin you can count me out for curds.
What I'm saying is ... and I haven't really been saying this until now, but fucking follow me will ya? ... Anyway, what I'm saying is, when do you actually know what you want and finally start making decisions for yourself based on what you want and what you need and what you will gain the most from? When do you stop worrying about what everyone else wants and start getting your life together?
I would tell you, but I haven't yet come to a decision on that. But am of course open to suggestions on what my decision should be.
P.S. Does anyone else see I'm so obviously fucked.
It's Wednesday. Why is Wednesday so significant? Well, in two days from today I will be in Cancun Mexico with my buddy ol' pal, My friend. I already have a game plan and a phone chain in case someone beautifulladynaps me while I'm there.
Last year I had plans to go to Mexico, but as some of you may remember, I ended up having to cancel that trip. Even though to the naked eye, it may have seemed like MY decision to cancel the trip, it was really a decision made for me. You can check out the two Eminem tickets I still have in my kitchen. That was not exactly a decision I made not to attend, but more like an unwillingness on my part to stand up and say, "Hey, I can't build a fucking chariot today because I spent $350 on a pair of concert tickets, and I'm f'n going bitches."
Right now I'm making a decision not to go out to the car and get my suitcase, but rather to sit in front of this glowing monitor and type a little ditty on decisions.
My daughter is attending private school. A decision me and her father made. A decision, which forced me into the decision to extend my time in Maryland until June. I negotiate for orders in October of this year. I would like to be able to make a decision to transfer somewhere that will benefit everyone, but I don't see that happening.
My ex-husband will be in Hawaii most likely. There is no sea duty for me there, so that is not an option I have. My parents and friends want me to go to California. That seems like a good decision. Except the cost of living there is so high. My friend wants me to transfer to Virginia and purchase a house with her. This is a good opportunity financially, but is it what I really want? What the fuck does Virginia have to offer except overpopulation and Sonic burger? I guess affordable living, except that by affordable I basically mean half a million dollars. Go to Japan? Stay in Maryland? I envy those people who actually make plans and follow through.
I've tried to take the guess work out of Decisions. If we are going to breakfast, it's Denny's and I'm getting a meat lovers. If we are going to lunch, TGI Fridays and I'm ordering chicken ceaser salad. If it's dinner and it's Friday, then it's back to Denny's for Clam Chowder. If it's any other day and we go to an Italian place, I'm getting spaghetti, no ifs ands or buts. If we are at a Mexican establishment, I'm going with the fajitas or rolled tacos. Anywhere else, I'm getting plain chicken or a hamburger.
I would say that I have made two food decisions in my life, and that is not to eat seafood or cheese. But I even fuck up those decisions, because I eat clam chowder and grilled cheese. But I don't like blue cheese. But I do like pizza, but not extra cheese pizza. And I will eat nachos, but I will refuse a cheeseburger. And I'll eat cheese puffs and cheese nips, but I will not eat string cheese. However, I was once forced to try some brie and I didn't so much mind that, but if we are traveling to Wisconsin you can count me out for curds.
What I'm saying is ... and I haven't really been saying this until now, but fucking follow me will ya? ... Anyway, what I'm saying is, when do you actually know what you want and finally start making decisions for yourself based on what you want and what you need and what you will gain the most from? When do you stop worrying about what everyone else wants and start getting your life together?
I would tell you, but I haven't yet come to a decision on that. But am of course open to suggestions on what my decision should be.
P.S. Does anyone else see I'm so obviously fucked.
Got Words? Use them!
(Original Post: August 19, 2006 - Saturday)
I keep in touch. That is what I do. When I was 12, my family drove to Wisconsin (sp?) to visit my stepfathers family. He introduced me to his brother's wife's Niece. (Have I lost you?) Anyway, her name was Kay, and me and Kay hit it off right away. Coining catch phrases such as, "You like the zipper too? Gimmie five!" Don't ask. Just know that we spent three days getting to know each other, and the rest of our lives keeping in touch. In fact, the next time I saw her I was 24 and getting fitted for a bridesmaid’s dress to be in her wedding. No shit. Emails, letters and phone calls. That's how we roll.
Kristin for another example. I was on my way out of San Diego. I stopped at a friends house for one final goodbye. Alejandro and Mikey were there. And Alley invited his friend Kristin. They've been best of friends since High School. So there we all were. Me and Kristin hit it out of the park, and have been B of F ever since. In fact, she just flew out here to visit. Myspace, text message and Yahoo Messenger. That's how we roll.
I keep in touch. My roommate is amazed at how good I am at it. I have friends flying in all the time for all over the country. I'm always driving/flying out of town to visit someone. I'm always writing or preparing a package to send to a buddy on deployment or to a friend having a baby. I hate shutting people out of my life.
I'm sure it comes as no surprise then, that the one problem most guys I date have with me, is my "baggage." In that list of people I keep in touch with, ex-lovers are for sure in the mix. I can pick up the phone or send an email to just about any person I've dated in the past 10 years just to see how they are doing and what they are up to. It's not a 'break glass in case of emergency type situation,' it is just how I am and have I've always been.
So guess what the one way to truly annoy me is? Guess what one thing you could do to completely drive me out of my mind. The horrible awful thing that will make me want to drive to your house and key your car ... yep, you guessed it, ignoring me. Or even worse, alerting me to the fact that you are never going to speak to me again. You have taken my 'keep in touch' option out of the game, and that my friend, is the lowest of the lows.
About seven years ago I was writing to a guy I know. We were really good friends and he was a great person to turn to for advice, good humor and conversation. One day he wrote and said, I'm going to grab some lunch and I'll write you when I get back. Till then Seniorita. He never wrote again. It drove me insane for an insane amount of time. Mostly because I didn't know why. Since then he has written, and now, to be honest, I ignore him most of the time. Not to be mean, but just because I had to forget ever meeting him, to forget the pressure I felt to keep in touch with him.
And now, it has happened again. Not with him, but someone else I valued. I have learned, with the help of a few books, that sometimes people are just different. My cousin said, "When I was in Iraq I would have given my life for my friends out there. I loved them. They meant the world to me. Do you know how many of them I talk to now?" How many I asked. "Zero." Then he said, "Do you know how many of my friends from high school and former commands I talk to now?" I'll go out on a limb and say zero, I said. "Gosh Darn right," he said. (Those words have been changed a bit to protect God. He had nothing to do with this situation.)
He said, you just have to learn to accept the fact that not everyone is like you. For some people it is just easier to let it all go. When you don't talk to people from your past, you are never let down and you never let anyone else down.
But I'm let down nonetheless. "Got Words?" Fucking use them. And stop ignoring the world. One day it's going to swallow you whole, and when you call me for help, well, I'll most likely answer and help you, because I'm not a fucking douche wad.
I keep in touch. That is what I do. When I was 12, my family drove to Wisconsin (sp?) to visit my stepfathers family. He introduced me to his brother's wife's Niece. (Have I lost you?) Anyway, her name was Kay, and me and Kay hit it off right away. Coining catch phrases such as, "You like the zipper too? Gimmie five!" Don't ask. Just know that we spent three days getting to know each other, and the rest of our lives keeping in touch. In fact, the next time I saw her I was 24 and getting fitted for a bridesmaid’s dress to be in her wedding. No shit. Emails, letters and phone calls. That's how we roll.
Kristin for another example. I was on my way out of San Diego. I stopped at a friends house for one final goodbye. Alejandro and Mikey were there. And Alley invited his friend Kristin. They've been best of friends since High School. So there we all were. Me and Kristin hit it out of the park, and have been B of F ever since. In fact, she just flew out here to visit. Myspace, text message and Yahoo Messenger. That's how we roll.
I keep in touch. My roommate is amazed at how good I am at it. I have friends flying in all the time for all over the country. I'm always driving/flying out of town to visit someone. I'm always writing or preparing a package to send to a buddy on deployment or to a friend having a baby. I hate shutting people out of my life.
I'm sure it comes as no surprise then, that the one problem most guys I date have with me, is my "baggage." In that list of people I keep in touch with, ex-lovers are for sure in the mix. I can pick up the phone or send an email to just about any person I've dated in the past 10 years just to see how they are doing and what they are up to. It's not a 'break glass in case of emergency type situation,' it is just how I am and have I've always been.
So guess what the one way to truly annoy me is? Guess what one thing you could do to completely drive me out of my mind. The horrible awful thing that will make me want to drive to your house and key your car ... yep, you guessed it, ignoring me. Or even worse, alerting me to the fact that you are never going to speak to me again. You have taken my 'keep in touch' option out of the game, and that my friend, is the lowest of the lows.
About seven years ago I was writing to a guy I know. We were really good friends and he was a great person to turn to for advice, good humor and conversation. One day he wrote and said, I'm going to grab some lunch and I'll write you when I get back. Till then Seniorita. He never wrote again. It drove me insane for an insane amount of time. Mostly because I didn't know why. Since then he has written, and now, to be honest, I ignore him most of the time. Not to be mean, but just because I had to forget ever meeting him, to forget the pressure I felt to keep in touch with him.
And now, it has happened again. Not with him, but someone else I valued. I have learned, with the help of a few books, that sometimes people are just different. My cousin said, "When I was in Iraq I would have given my life for my friends out there. I loved them. They meant the world to me. Do you know how many of them I talk to now?" How many I asked. "Zero." Then he said, "Do you know how many of my friends from high school and former commands I talk to now?" I'll go out on a limb and say zero, I said. "Gosh Darn right," he said. (Those words have been changed a bit to protect God. He had nothing to do with this situation.)
He said, you just have to learn to accept the fact that not everyone is like you. For some people it is just easier to let it all go. When you don't talk to people from your past, you are never let down and you never let anyone else down.
But I'm let down nonetheless. "Got Words?" Fucking use them. And stop ignoring the world. One day it's going to swallow you whole, and when you call me for help, well, I'll most likely answer and help you, because I'm not a fucking douche wad.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Protect your six!
(Original Post: August 8, 2006 - Tuesday)
So I've been thinking about relationships. HOLY SHIT. WHAT A SHOCKER RIGHT? Anyway, I've also been reading, well, glancing, at this book called "Why men marry Bitches." For the most part it says what every other "He's not going to marry your stupid ass," book says. If you are nice, and show interest in him, and make him feel special and care about him, he will for sure decide you are NOT the ONE.
However, if you treat him like crap, ignore his phone calls, stop replying to his emails and start using sex as a weapon, well then, you are on track to true happiness. Start gagging a little when you look at him. Almost like you are going to throw up just from spending time with him, which is money in the bank ladies!
Whatever you do, don't give him control of the six. What is the six you ask? Well, if your body is a 12-inch ruler, you can guess where the six would be...Basically, don't give him the upper hand. If you start acting like he is a great catch, his wheels will start turning. This is not a metaphor for thinking, this is for real. He will jump in his car yelling, "Go, Go, Go. Get out of here."
The reason for this is simple. He is not really trying that hard to impress you. I mean sure, he opened the car door for you, bought you some grub and acted all geeky and shy when it came time to kiss you. Big fucking deal. This does not mean you need to rush home with him and break his back super girl style.
If you do make this mistake, well, all hope is not lost. For the next couple of days, keep your distance. Don't always be available by phone. Let him leave a couple of messages, and then when you call him back, just tell him you saw his number in your call log and that you haven't even had time to listen to the message because seriously, your life is just packed full of super important shit. He does not need to know that super important shit translates into, doing laundry and getting to the store to buy ice cream sandwiches.
If you do the opposite of this, you are doomed. Let's go back a few steps. You've just broken his back. He's feeling good. He's into you. FOR NOW. You lean over and cuddle. He cuddles back. You are ready to introduce him to your parents. The next day you call and let him know you had a great time. You send him a text message just to say Hi, a few hours later. You send him an email as soon as you get to work the next day. You call him when you get off and ask him what's he's doing. You send him a text message asking him if he misses you. *hint - if you have to ask him, he doesn't. He starts to get the vibe that his work is done. He has impressed you and won your heart. But what has he really done? If it was that easy to butter your bread, then he must be doing more for you than anyone else has ever done. But all he's doing is not totally ignoring you. So he begins to do less and less to see just how little he can do, all the while keeping your attention. The more he pulls away, the more you cling. The less he does, the more you do. Pretty soon he's calling you once a week. He must still be into you right? You answer and try not to sound annoyed. Even though the fact that he hasn't called in a week is all you've been talking about the entire time. You've even gained five pounds because of all the comfort eating you've been doing thinking about it. He tells you to come over. It doesn't matter that you've been sleeping two hours already. When he asks if you've been sleeping you say Nope. I always stay up till about 4 a.m. on Wednesdays. You jump up, take a quick shower, and show up at his house in a record ten minutes. He already looks tired. You hope he's not too tired to let you have sex with him. Boy, you are the luckiest girl ever. You will not come, not even close, but it doesn't matter. Because tonight is the night that he's going to realize how great you are and invite you to move in.
Oh yes, please come in my eye. I won't be able to see, but it's cool. I really don't need to see for a couple of days anyway. Yeah, pull my hair. That feels like shit, but I'll tell you I love it so you can enjoy the visual. And let's be honest. You could care less whether I like it or not. Oh, you are done? Well that was fast. No problem though, I'm sure you're tired. Let me rub your back until you fall asleep.
Meanwhile you stay awake proud of yourself for managing to make it into his apartment again. Scoping the area for two plates with the same kind of food dried on them. Two glasses instead of one. Any evidence of replacement.
Blah! If you are that quick to commit, then you will be that quick to quit. And he knows it. He knows he's not that great. His ex didn't think he was that great. And trust me ... he hasn't changed a bit.
So I've been thinking about relationships. HOLY SHIT. WHAT A SHOCKER RIGHT? Anyway, I've also been reading, well, glancing, at this book called "Why men marry Bitches." For the most part it says what every other "He's not going to marry your stupid ass," book says. If you are nice, and show interest in him, and make him feel special and care about him, he will for sure decide you are NOT the ONE.
However, if you treat him like crap, ignore his phone calls, stop replying to his emails and start using sex as a weapon, well then, you are on track to true happiness. Start gagging a little when you look at him. Almost like you are going to throw up just from spending time with him, which is money in the bank ladies!
Whatever you do, don't give him control of the six. What is the six you ask? Well, if your body is a 12-inch ruler, you can guess where the six would be...Basically, don't give him the upper hand. If you start acting like he is a great catch, his wheels will start turning. This is not a metaphor for thinking, this is for real. He will jump in his car yelling, "Go, Go, Go. Get out of here."
The reason for this is simple. He is not really trying that hard to impress you. I mean sure, he opened the car door for you, bought you some grub and acted all geeky and shy when it came time to kiss you. Big fucking deal. This does not mean you need to rush home with him and break his back super girl style.
If you do make this mistake, well, all hope is not lost. For the next couple of days, keep your distance. Don't always be available by phone. Let him leave a couple of messages, and then when you call him back, just tell him you saw his number in your call log and that you haven't even had time to listen to the message because seriously, your life is just packed full of super important shit. He does not need to know that super important shit translates into, doing laundry and getting to the store to buy ice cream sandwiches.
If you do the opposite of this, you are doomed. Let's go back a few steps. You've just broken his back. He's feeling good. He's into you. FOR NOW. You lean over and cuddle. He cuddles back. You are ready to introduce him to your parents. The next day you call and let him know you had a great time. You send him a text message just to say Hi, a few hours later. You send him an email as soon as you get to work the next day. You call him when you get off and ask him what's he's doing. You send him a text message asking him if he misses you. *hint - if you have to ask him, he doesn't. He starts to get the vibe that his work is done. He has impressed you and won your heart. But what has he really done? If it was that easy to butter your bread, then he must be doing more for you than anyone else has ever done. But all he's doing is not totally ignoring you. So he begins to do less and less to see just how little he can do, all the while keeping your attention. The more he pulls away, the more you cling. The less he does, the more you do. Pretty soon he's calling you once a week. He must still be into you right? You answer and try not to sound annoyed. Even though the fact that he hasn't called in a week is all you've been talking about the entire time. You've even gained five pounds because of all the comfort eating you've been doing thinking about it. He tells you to come over. It doesn't matter that you've been sleeping two hours already. When he asks if you've been sleeping you say Nope. I always stay up till about 4 a.m. on Wednesdays. You jump up, take a quick shower, and show up at his house in a record ten minutes. He already looks tired. You hope he's not too tired to let you have sex with him. Boy, you are the luckiest girl ever. You will not come, not even close, but it doesn't matter. Because tonight is the night that he's going to realize how great you are and invite you to move in.
Oh yes, please come in my eye. I won't be able to see, but it's cool. I really don't need to see for a couple of days anyway. Yeah, pull my hair. That feels like shit, but I'll tell you I love it so you can enjoy the visual. And let's be honest. You could care less whether I like it or not. Oh, you are done? Well that was fast. No problem though, I'm sure you're tired. Let me rub your back until you fall asleep.
Meanwhile you stay awake proud of yourself for managing to make it into his apartment again. Scoping the area for two plates with the same kind of food dried on them. Two glasses instead of one. Any evidence of replacement.
Blah! If you are that quick to commit, then you will be that quick to quit. And he knows it. He knows he's not that great. His ex didn't think he was that great. And trust me ... he hasn't changed a bit.
Seriously, get the fuck out
(Original Post: July 22, 2006 - Saturday)
My little one doesn't turn 5 until October 8. The cut off for Kindergarten is Oct. 1. So because of seven little days she is doomed to be the 19-year-old Senior. I can't let that happen to her. Not for seven days. So we signed her up for a private Kindergarten. $550. a month. There is also a $250. Registration charge for a cap and gown at graduation.
Seriously, get the fuck out. Are you kidding me?
A cap and a damn gown. It's K-fucking-5. It doesn't even rate a number. It's 0-fucking-grade. But, who can put a price tag on an early start right? Wrong. They have put a price tag on it and it's 5, 500 bucks. That's how much we will have paid by the end. And I thought I was saving up to send the girl to college. Little did I know I'd be dipping into the savings to send her ass to zero grade school?
And if that is not enough, she needs uniforms. Not just any uniform either. Not just a series of colors she's required to wear, but a particular uniform, from a particular store, that costs a particular amount of money. $50. bucks a uniform to be exact. However, the owl mascot will be sewn on for free, so, it's a deal!
It's also a Christian school. For occasions like Halloween they allow students to dress up; however, they are required to dress as characters from the Bible. This leaves me a bit confused. Does she just wear a robe and a Hello I'm (Bible Character) tag? Or should I dress her as an Ark so she'll get recognized? Possibly a camel. Maybe have her sit on the ground all day and say she was the guy with no legs. (Wasn't that a story...He made the Lame to walk, and the blind to see? Opened prison doors, set the captives free...i've got a river of life flowing out of me, spring out the well, slish splash...) Oh sorry, Bible song moment.
They tested her to see if she was ready for zero grade. She answered everything right, but had no idea what a church was...or a cross for that matter.
They shot me a look ... like, seriously, get the fuck out.
My little one doesn't turn 5 until October 8. The cut off for Kindergarten is Oct. 1. So because of seven little days she is doomed to be the 19-year-old Senior. I can't let that happen to her. Not for seven days. So we signed her up for a private Kindergarten. $550. a month. There is also a $250. Registration charge for a cap and gown at graduation.
Seriously, get the fuck out. Are you kidding me?
A cap and a damn gown. It's K-fucking-5. It doesn't even rate a number. It's 0-fucking-grade. But, who can put a price tag on an early start right? Wrong. They have put a price tag on it and it's 5, 500 bucks. That's how much we will have paid by the end. And I thought I was saving up to send the girl to college. Little did I know I'd be dipping into the savings to send her ass to zero grade school?
And if that is not enough, she needs uniforms. Not just any uniform either. Not just a series of colors she's required to wear, but a particular uniform, from a particular store, that costs a particular amount of money. $50. bucks a uniform to be exact. However, the owl mascot will be sewn on for free, so, it's a deal!
It's also a Christian school. For occasions like Halloween they allow students to dress up; however, they are required to dress as characters from the Bible. This leaves me a bit confused. Does she just wear a robe and a Hello I'm (Bible Character) tag? Or should I dress her as an Ark so she'll get recognized? Possibly a camel. Maybe have her sit on the ground all day and say she was the guy with no legs. (Wasn't that a story...He made the Lame to walk, and the blind to see? Opened prison doors, set the captives free...i've got a river of life flowing out of me, spring out the well, slish splash...) Oh sorry, Bible song moment.
They tested her to see if she was ready for zero grade. She answered everything right, but had no idea what a church was...or a cross for that matter.
They shot me a look ... like, seriously, get the fuck out.
Broadway is dark tonight
(Original Post: July 12, 2006 - Wednesday)
I spent last weekend in New York. Well I say New York, but I really mean Buffalo, Canada. From what I hear, you cannot be from Buffalo and claim to be a rude ass Posh New Yorker. And after spending some time there, I wouldn't even want to beg to differ.
You can tell a person from Buffalo. They have goatees, and slightly round mid sections, and they still dance to "Pour some sugar on me." I saw a girl wearing a jean dress...I think I've said enough.
I met a girl on a skittles diet. Seriously, she eats a couple of bags of skittles a day. That's it. Now that's discipline. Men are all taken in Buffalo. Seriously, I think they are sold right out of high school.
We went to "The taste of Buffalo." If you take that literally, then Buffalo tastes like a crab stuffed shrimp and a mango smoothie. We saw a woman standing on a corner. She looked beat down. Hair weather damaged. Posture frumpy and unforgiving, and a shirt on that read, "Totally worth it."
That is Buffalo. The little city that thought it could. The town full of people all talking about the world as if it's somewhere they've been. A frumpy little place where people wear T-shirts, socks with tennis shoes, and jean shorts -- together. A hairy little town with a little too much weight around the middle. Beat down, but Totally Worth It.
I spent last weekend in New York. Well I say New York, but I really mean Buffalo, Canada. From what I hear, you cannot be from Buffalo and claim to be a rude ass Posh New Yorker. And after spending some time there, I wouldn't even want to beg to differ.
You can tell a person from Buffalo. They have goatees, and slightly round mid sections, and they still dance to "Pour some sugar on me." I saw a girl wearing a jean dress...I think I've said enough.
I met a girl on a skittles diet. Seriously, she eats a couple of bags of skittles a day. That's it. Now that's discipline. Men are all taken in Buffalo. Seriously, I think they are sold right out of high school.
We went to "The taste of Buffalo." If you take that literally, then Buffalo tastes like a crab stuffed shrimp and a mango smoothie. We saw a woman standing on a corner. She looked beat down. Hair weather damaged. Posture frumpy and unforgiving, and a shirt on that read, "Totally worth it."
That is Buffalo. The little city that thought it could. The town full of people all talking about the world as if it's somewhere they've been. A frumpy little place where people wear T-shirts, socks with tennis shoes, and jean shorts -- together. A hairy little town with a little too much weight around the middle. Beat down, but Totally Worth It.
It's not just the Internet anymore
(Original Post: July 1, 2006 - Saturday)
Alright. It is Saturday morning and I'm waiting for a friend of mine to get in from Va. She is driving up with her daughter. So there is not much for me to do while I wait. So I get online. I blog about watching men sleep. I check my email. I reply to people I like. Then I do what we all do. Delete all the porn adds in my inbox. Random stranger sex shit in my email. Lovely. Then I open up instant messenger.
Maybe I have some loser friends and family who also aren't doing anything this morning. Nope, not a chance. In fact, most people are probably still asleep. I've been up since 6.
So I go into a chat room. Someone asks me how I am. I say fine. Then they ask if I'm horny. I hit ignore. The next person asks if I have a camera. I hit ignore. Next person says hello. I say hello. He starts using bits and pieces of sentences and says dat instead of that. I hit ignore. The fourth person tells me right away that he is a 30-year-old naked male. Then asks if I'd like to view his cam. IGNORE. The next guy to write asks if I'm a female. I say yes and ask him if he's naked. He says not yet. I say, would you mind not getting naked? He didn't respond. And it's not just strangers on the internet that have this obsession with living a reality free life. I once met a guy at a bar. We talked for a while and he seemed 'normal.' I gave him my phone number and later that night he texted me a picture of his dick. Um, thanks for the memories. Random pictures of cock show up in my inbox. No one wants to date and talk. It's not about that anymore. It's camera phone sex, email sex, and instant message sex. If you have phone sex, which is now considered making love, because you actually get to hear a human voice. Is this how desperate we have all become? It is safe sex at least....seeing as though all of these are just sex with yourself. However, we all know that every creep has a hook-up at the phone company/DMV who will trade all of your information for a happy meal and a charms blow pop. I got to go. There is a guy on camera who wants to show me how he can suck his own dick. I'll watch, then hit ignore.
Alright. It is Saturday morning and I'm waiting for a friend of mine to get in from Va. She is driving up with her daughter. So there is not much for me to do while I wait. So I get online. I blog about watching men sleep. I check my email. I reply to people I like. Then I do what we all do. Delete all the porn adds in my inbox. Random stranger sex shit in my email. Lovely. Then I open up instant messenger.
Maybe I have some loser friends and family who also aren't doing anything this morning. Nope, not a chance. In fact, most people are probably still asleep. I've been up since 6.
So I go into a chat room. Someone asks me how I am. I say fine. Then they ask if I'm horny. I hit ignore. The next person asks if I have a camera. I hit ignore. Next person says hello. I say hello. He starts using bits and pieces of sentences and says dat instead of that. I hit ignore. The fourth person tells me right away that he is a 30-year-old naked male. Then asks if I'd like to view his cam. IGNORE. The next guy to write asks if I'm a female. I say yes and ask him if he's naked. He says not yet. I say, would you mind not getting naked? He didn't respond. And it's not just strangers on the internet that have this obsession with living a reality free life. I once met a guy at a bar. We talked for a while and he seemed 'normal.' I gave him my phone number and later that night he texted me a picture of his dick. Um, thanks for the memories. Random pictures of cock show up in my inbox. No one wants to date and talk. It's not about that anymore. It's camera phone sex, email sex, and instant message sex. If you have phone sex, which is now considered making love, because you actually get to hear a human voice. Is this how desperate we have all become? It is safe sex at least....seeing as though all of these are just sex with yourself. However, we all know that every creep has a hook-up at the phone company/DMV who will trade all of your information for a happy meal and a charms blow pop. I got to go. There is a guy on camera who wants to show me how he can suck his own dick. I'll watch, then hit ignore.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
