Currently Chasing: The Canadian

So what is it about men from other countries making me swoon? And although Canada brought us Celine Dion (gag) it also brought us Ryan Reynolds (and I wouldn’t mind gagging on that!)

So I’ve been recently going to crossfit. It’s an intense exercise program and it hurts. A lot. So when I go I tend to look around. You know, for motivation. And I found it in the form of a beautiful Canadian. He wasn’t part of the crossfit class necessarily. He was usually busy doing his own thing in the corner, and his own thing consisted of tons and tons of weight, lots of pull-ups, pushups and squats. He would already be in a full sweat when we got there, and he would be barely half way through his workout when we were leaving. He’s a machine. A buff, abtastic, tight-assed machine.

So of course, I started dialogue.

Me: So, wow. This just seems insane.

Him: A bit maybe, but that’s what happens when you are a dumb guy in competition with your crazy roommate. You do insane shit to prove you are just as crazy.

Me: Yep. I know EXACTLY what you mean. I had some soft pink sheets, and my roommate was jealous. So she had her brother send her soft pink sheets. Crazy right?

Him: Yeah, something like that.

With that I let him get back to his workout. I didn’t see him for at least a week and then when I saw him again he said hello, and used my name. Now, my name is not very common, and most people forget it totally or just call me by a shortened version of it, or just the first letter, T. So when he used the whole thing and looked me in my eyes to say hello…I knew, he was a buff, abtastic, tight-assed machine, with a great memory and possibly … dare I say, a general interest!

Of course though, in true fashion, I couldn’t remember his name to save my life. So I had to have a friend introduce himself to him so that he could come back and tell me his name. LAME RIGHT? But whatever, you do what you have to do in these intense situations. And my friends are always down to help. Remember when my friend (and blog manager) ran across the Baja fresh parking lot to give my number to some random future husband of mine? Yeah, I love my friends.

So yesterday he showed up to the gym, not to work out, but instead to talk to me and ask if I wanted to have Coffee later. There are a few things you should know at this point.

1.       I don’t like coffee.

2.       I don’t want to have something I don’t like, which contains a shit ton of caffeine, an hour before I’m going to bed.

3.       I don’t want to sit across from you and have a conversation with my hair a fucking sweaty wreck and my makeup smeared all over my face.

So that came out something like, “yeah that sounds absolutely great, see you there.”

I’m such a sucker.

I ended up having a smoothie instead of coffee, but it gave us a chance to talk. He told me that he was a body guard for a high profile commander. (of course…aren’t they all?)

He also told me that he joined the military when he was 16 and that he’s been in nine years. Let’s do the math on that. 25 years old! I’m moving up in the world. He’s a year older than those who were hitting on me a month ago … and he weighs more than me. Hell, he can bench more than I weigh and he squats 515 pounds. I’m usually not into meat heads…but part of my new workout goal is … more protein. He may be just what I need.

Currently Chasing: The Like Button

I’m just going to say it. I used to be fat. 260 pounds at my heaviest. I was round, I was soft, but let’s face it, I was still cute. And lately I’ve been obsessing over my weight, and I need to stop, because right now, even at 163, I’m nowhere near 260, and I’m not even on the doorstep of 190, which is where I was in the picture my friend recently tagged me on. She knows who she is. And she is reading this right now. Hey B…Love ya girl.

Now you all know how I feel about people tagging me in photos. If I’m a whale, then feel free to parade me around in front of your friends, but for the love of all that is holy, don’t parade me in front of mine. Many of my friends are shallow and judgmental. 

So here is what happened.

I log on to facebook one morning. Easy enough. I see a message. B.G. has tagged a new photo of you. Hmmm, ok, that sounds dangerous, let’s have a looksie. HOLY FUCKING BATSHIT. You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s a picture of me…only you can’t really even see me past my FUCKING THIGH. And that is probably a good thing, because my hair was a nightmare. I see there is one comment on the photo. I read it. It is from my best friend. The comment reads:

“She is going to be pissed.”

I comment below it.

“Yes, she is.”

There is also another photo tagged of all of us from highschool. I’m a whale in that photo as well but at least it’s a group shot. There was like five of us including my second chin. The sad thing is, I walk around here all day not eating, and then eating too much. Not working out and then working out too much. And the real truth is, I’ve come a long way. And I need to just look in the mirror and be proud of what I see.

So the other day I leave the base I’m at to visit another base. A smaller base. A dustier, dirtier, less crowded base. And I wake up in the morning to brush my teeth and the girl says, you have to walk all the way over by where we eat chow..there are shower stalls over there and sinks. I’m like, way the fuck over there? And she says yes, and the first thing I think of is, well, the walking will help me lose weight. I mean, jeezus, does it always have to go back to the weight thing? What I should have been worried about was what I was going to do when my fucking toothbrush fell in the fucking dirt. Fat or skinny, that shit sucks.

I guess what I’m saying is, I’m going to take a huge weight off myself by stopping all this worrying about my weight.  If I just concentrate on my health, and I just eat to fuel my body, and I workout because it makes me feel better about myself, well then, I’m on the right track.

And if you are thinking about rushing over to facebook to see the picture I’m talking about, well, B went ahead and deleted it. She knows I’m out here carrying a weapon, she didn’t want me to have to use it…to shoot my fucking laptop screen.  But I’d like her to send me a copy of it to my email. I plan on printing it off and taping it to all the snack food in my office, and maybe tape it to the wall behind me, right next to the wanted poster with the picture of my missing self esteem.

 Maybe B should post the picture again, and this time, instead of  a negative comment, I'll just press the like button. I should be proud of where i came from right? Just kidding B, you keep that shit on lock, you hear me?

Currently Being Chased

So I get an email the other day and it says:

So I’ve been keeping up with your blog, and what’s this about you not liking skinny guys. The message came from none other than … Bob Evans. You guys remember him right? He was my waiter turned boy toy?

So I write back and ask how he’s been and tell him it’s just a blog for entertainment purposes … and that he shouldn’t take it personal. He said he didn’t. I told him I’m working on losing some weight. He said, don’t go losing too much, you have to keep your curves.

Then he says something I won’t ever forget.

“By the way, you were already a stateside 10, so now you’re an Afghanistan 20.”

I read that four or five times before I responded.

“Wow, that was a great line!” I wrote back.

He said, “It’s not really a line if 1) I’ve already slept with you and 2) I can’t get it any time soon from you. I think then it falls more into the compliment pile J

And how right he was. It was a great compliment.

And he’s not the only one who has been throwing them my way lately. And I’m not talking about guys here who would compliment a three-legged goat at this point. I’m talking about men back home that I have been friends with for years and who are just starting to realize that maybe there is/was more there than met the eye.  Men who used to come to me for advice about the all the wrong women they were dating and who would give me advice about all the wrong men I was dating.

Now they write emails that suggest that maybe the right woman was there all along. And I don’t know about that … but the thought intrigues me. Could I be the ‘right one’ for someone? It seems that the minute I identify someone as a right anything, or the minute they identify me as such shit gets fucked up. It’s clear I haven’t been ‘right’ in a while. But I haven’t been all wrong either. Because obviously I’ve had enough foresight to keep these ‘maybe’ Mr. Rights as friends.

There is also another very interesting fact about these potential suitors. I’ve never slept with them.  Is that why they still see hope for a future with me? Is that why I still present a challenge? My friend J once married a girl just because he wanted to be the first guy to sleep with her. And guess what? She sucked in bed. And sex hurt. And she complained. And they divorced. And eventually sex became a blast and she was having it with everyone … but him. But she was a challenge … and he chased her all the way to the altar.

But as we all know, I’m the chaser. I’m usually not the chased. I’m usually too busy looking for one to actually be one. But who knows. Maybe in my quest to chase what I feel is impossible to catch, I’m actually running fast enough for someone to be in hot pursuit. Who knew? Maybe one day I should just stop … and turn around. And let this fucking love run full speed into me head on. If he’s still around after the coma, then maybe he was Mr. Right after all. And if not, well, there’s always Bob Evans, he’s young and able, and that boy can catch up to me any day.

Currently Chasing: Unscheduled Pillow Fights

There is a big difference between guys and girls. And it’s not just our junk, I can tell you that. There are several reasons why I envy men. They can stand and pee. I tried that once in a dark port o john and didn’t realize the seat cover was down and I ended up pissing down onto the seat, which led to the piss spilling into my underwear. Very comfortable for my 20-mile walk for breast cancer.

Another reason I envy men is because … they get along. When a man walks into the room, another man does not eye him up and down and immediately text his friend to comment on his ugly belt. They accept each other and they work together. If there are two good looking me in the office, they do not vow to hate each other and compete constantly. Instead the work together and get every girl in the office involved in a three way. Men are team players.

Men have also mastered conflict resolution. When there was a problem in the office recently … it took three non-confrontational women four days to tip toe around the subject and come up with 332 different flow charts, 47 excel spread sheets and 13 power point presentations to address the issue. One man went in to the room said “Knock Knock,” to which the people in the room answered, “Who’s there?” to which he replied, “SHUT THE FUCK UP.” And done. Everyone realized they were acting like pieces of shit. The women stayed pissed for another 12 days and the men went and out and had non-alcoholic beer. And the attractive men probably went out and had threesomes.

*on a side note, what’s the point of non-alcoholic beer. Why bother with the calories and the carbs if you can’t get a buzz and make bad decisions? It’s just not worth it.”

But there are some things I don’t envy.  Recently we were at a function and one of my roommates and I (I have five roommates total) were talking to some of the guys about our living arrangements. One of the guys said, yeah, the other day I walked into the room and tried to be quite and all of sudden I heard, BBBBBBBBBBARRRRRRRRRRRRRmmmffffffFFFFF! It was the loudest fart ever! The guy next to him jumps in and says, oh that’s nothing. The guys in my room snore and then fart. It’s a never ending process of air passage.  Then another guy chimes in and says his roommate throws the light on any ol’ time of night and chats online to his people back home at a normal volume no matter what time it is. Another guy says that it’s the same in his room except his roommate is always chatting to a spouse and they are always arguing at loud levels in Spanish.  (My friend Katie always does Charts, so I’m trying it out as well. Just in case you need a visual.)

Then they look at us and say, what’s it like in your room.

I said, “The other day I knew my roomie wasn’t sleeping well because I could hear her turn over in her bed and tug at her blankets.”

They said, that’s it? I said, “Yeah, but they were fucking loud blankets! I was like, shut the fuck up with those blankets bitch! People are trying to sleep in here.”

They just stared at me.

I said, “seriously, it’s so quiet in our room. No one is farting or snoring . And even if people are online chatting, they will use the keyboard instead of talking…so at most we hear a bit of click, click, click. Or maybe angry typing…clickityclickityCLICKITYFUCKINGCLICKITY.  How do you say Clickity in Spanish? One of the guys responds, “Maybe you girls are just too tired from the unscheduled pillow fights to notice what happens after the lights go out.”

Yeah, that must be it. Either that or we are tired from talking shit about each other all day.