Currently Chasing: Coincidence

So way back in 2005 I met a guy. I mean, I’m always meeting guys, but this was an exceptionally crazy circumstance. More than a year ago I was reminded of the story and I blogged about it here. I’ll wait for you to get all caught up.

So Saturday my daughter has a birthday party. I tell her she can invite three girls. She picks two girls I know well and one girl that I’m not super familiar with. I call her mother and make sure that everything is ok with her coming to the party and then spending the night. Her mother says that it is fine. She mentions that it is her ex husbands weekend with the kids and asks if I can just drop her off at her father’s house the day after the party. No problem. So she sends me his name, address and phone number.

I stare at the name. It’s a fairly common name, not unlike Chris (although it’s not Chris) so I don’t think too much about it. But the address is in the same city as the “Chris” that I used to know way back then so just to be sure I write to a mutual friend.

Me: Hey, so I’m looking at this girl’s dad’s information and I have to ask. This isn’t the same guy from 2005 is it? You know…the air guitar guy? The guy who was growing weed in his house?

Mutual friend: Ha! OMG No. Not at all. I’ve met him, it’s not the same person.

Me: Ok. You are sure right?

Mutual friend: Yeah. I remember that dude, and trust me; it’s not the same person.

I felt some relief come over my body. Not like it would be absolutely horrible to see this guy again..it’s just that we left off on strange terms. Like, him telling me he was falling and love, and me wondering why he couldn’t be bothered to clean out his toilet.

So the day comes and I’m at the mutual friend’s house waiting for all the girls to arrive so I can load them up and take them to the mall. Then I hear someone shout “so and so’s dad is here.”

My friend assures me once again that it is not the same person. So outside I go to meet him and tell him I promise to return his daughter in one piece. As soon as I see him, I know.

It’s him.

I walk up to him and he looks at me like he is meeting me for the first time.

Him: Hey, hi, it’s nice to meet you.

Me: (staring) um, yes, it is very nice to meet you also. (I say this very, very slow while continuing to stare.)

Him: well, ok, it is very nice of you to have invited my daughter. She is very excited about it.

Me: (staring) no problem. I’m sure all the girls are going to have a great time. (Again, very slow. And I’m sure he thinks I’M HIGH)

Him: do you need me to text you my address so you can drop her off tomorrow?

Me: nope. I have your address. Your ex wife texted it to me. (and I may just remember the way in general seeing as though I’VE BEEN THERE BEFORE.)

Him: ok, well thanks again … (he pauses like he is reaching for my name…so I just give it to him again)

Then he gets in his car and leaves and I turn around with wide eyes while mouthing the words to my friend. (IT IS FUCKING HIM!)

She says something about it being a long time, and he’s cut his hair and gained a little weight since then…but holy shit, we are both kind of in disbelief about the whole thing.

And my name is not that common. I mean, my name may as well be television station. You wouldn’t forget someone named television station. Especially not someone you were supposedly falling for! Then again…he was simultaneously dating Mary Jane and we all know how that bitch fucks with your shit.

I should have just let it go, pretended we had never met before and called it a day…however, I hate being forgettable. So of course I texted him with a teeny tiny hint indicating that it is possible we had met some time in the past.

My text: “Hey, this is Terrina. We used to date.

He writes back about how I looked familiar and he was wondering why I was talking so slow and looking RIGHT THROUGH HIM. (yeah, he put it in all caps just like that.) He mentioned how embarrassed he felt about the whole situation but then added that he was pretty baked back then.

Three other blasts from the past made their way to my phone, email, facebook last week. It’s like the universe can smell relationship all over me and is sending old boyfriends to test my commitment. What the universe forgets is that even my current boyfriend is an old boyfriend so I’m already over quota on that sort of thing. I’ve got enough past in my present. Time to keep looking forward.

Currently Chasing: A place for my brick

So I’m browsing through my favorite blogs today. Some of them being http://www.absolutelynarcissism.com/, http://www.datemedc.com/, and  http://www.citygirlblogs.com/, and my latest obsession www.bootyandbrains.blogspot.com.

It was on that last one that I stopped just reading through the blogs for entertainment, and really just listened to the words on the screen. They spoke to me. I don’t usually comment on blogs. It takes a while, and I usually don’t have much to say. But not only did I comment on this blog, but I posted a link to it on my facebook, and then subsequently sent the author a message letting her know I was a fan. (please go there and read this post if you do nothing else today www.bootyandbrains.blogspot.com/2011/06/good-grief.html )

This pretty much sums up the point of the blog, which is about pain in life that seems hard to get over.

BECCA: Does it ever go away?
NAT: No. I don’t think it does. Not for me, it hasn’t. And that’s goin’ on 11 years. It changes, though.
BECCA: How?  
NAT: I don’t know. The weight of it, I guess. At some point it becomes bearable. It turns into something you can crawl out from under, and carry around — like a brick in your pocket. And you forget it every once in a while, but then you reach in for whatever reason and there it is: “Oh, right. That.” Which can be awful. But not all the time. Sometimes it’s kinda ... not that you like it exactly, but it’s what you have instead of your son, so you don’t wanna let go of it either. So you carry it around. And it doesn’t go away, which is ...
BECCA: What.
NAT: Fine ... actually.

So I sent her a message and shared this story:

There was a girl I knew. Her boyfriend deployed. He had it all. High on faith and a beautiful girlfriend.

However, shortly into his deployment he started to find other people attractive and they entertained his flirting. Enabled it.

Much later his girlfriend wrote me and told me this story:

She said that one night she was driving alone on a road and something made her pull over. She said it was God. HE wanted to have a conversation with her. She said HE told her that her boyfriend was not being faithful, but that HE needed her to continue loving this man so that HE could reach him through her. She said she begged God not to make her go through this again. ( she had been cheated on before and it nearly killed her.)

But she said God insisted that this man needed God and the only way HE was going to find this man is if she continued to love him, support him and bring him closer to HIM.

So she did.

When her boyfriend got back he pretended like nothing had happened.

She called him up one day and said, I need to know the truth.

At that moment he started crying. later he said that in that exact moment God spoke directly to him and told him that she already knew everything and he just needed to be honest.

So he confessed everything.

I don't know what became of them. I imagine they broke up and that was that. Or they stayed together and she managed forgiveness. But she'll always have that brick. Either way. I wonder if it's harder to carry it alone, or to try carrying it with the help of the person who is responsible for it?

My boyfriend and I have definitely had our ups and downs. And I am carrying a brick of sorts.

I'm hoping that if/when we decide it's time to move in together, the brick will not become part of our homes foundation. I know I won't just be able to toss it out. But maybe I can use it to build a bridge...that I can finally one day truly cross.

Currently Chasing: A Music Teacher

I love Airports. I’ve actually met quite a few people while waiting for a plane. A few of them are even Facebook friends. On my way to boot camp in 1994 I met a 14-year-old boy who had never met anyone in the military before. I made him a pen pal we wrote back and forth for months…until his mother sent me a letter saying that as nice as it was that I was giving her son something to do, she feared he was writing to me like a girlfriend…and well, yeah … She didn’t think it was appropriate. However, I was only 17 at the time…so even though I absolutely was not thinking of him in that way, I think we can definitely say I was a cougar before his mom thought it was cool.

I once met a girl on her way to meet a man she had only ever talked to online. We spent hours waiting for the plane and exchanging numbers so she could give me a play by play of how it went. It went horrible of course…so that online relationship ended … but our airport friendship didn’t.

I once exchanged glances with a guy while waiting for my group to board. We sat in the same row but on opposite sides of the aisle. We spent the flight passing letters back and forth. By the time the six hour flight landed we had plans for dinner and a movie. I guess strangers don’t scare me.

Now, airport chats aren’t for everyone … for example. I traveled with a co-worker recently and he told me a story about his last airport acquaintance. He was waiting for his flight and there was an elderly woman next to him. They chatted for about 15 minutes. She asked him to watch her bag while she went to the restroom. (Which why do they even call it a restroom? Are there people in there just resting?) Anyway, he agreed to watch her bag. He saw her walk to the restroom and then he saw her walk out. But she didn’t come back to get her bag. He got nervous. He went up the counter and told the lady that although he knows he wasn’t supposed to, he had agreed to watch this woman’s bag and that she hadn’t come back for it. The woman told him she would call security.

My friend immediately began to clear the area, letting people know that there was an unattended bag and that they were unsure of the contents. People began to back away and panic. My friend hid behind a pillar while security approached the bag and began going through it. All of a sudden from around the corner comes this little ol’ lady with two ice cream cones. She had just went to get herself and ‘the nice man watching her bag’ an ice cream cone. Imagine her shock as all of her things were spread about. I had visions on police tackling her and smashing her treats into her eyes. Geezus. I can pretty much bet that lady and my friend are not still keeping in touch!

So on my way back to Mississippi from San Diego I happened to be in the wrong seat. This guy approaches and says, I think this is my seat. I say something smart ass like, um, well this is my seat too, but I’ll move. Of course it wasn’t my seat, mine was the one next to it. But I never pass up an opportunity to be an asshole.

So we chat the entire flight! We talk about where he’s from, where I’m from, what he does, what I do. He’s a music teacher. And also the Choir Director! So we chatted about that and the show Glee and how he loves it and hates it because it gets more people interested in choir, but then during the first practice, when they see that people don’t just burst into song in full costume with a pre choreographed dance routine, they end up quitting.

So anyway, I gave him my blog card and said if he’s bored he could check out the site. He said he definitely would…and he said he may even leave a comment. Although maybe after reading even one or two of these massacres I call daily events he may change his mind, but I hope not.

After the flight I introduced the teacher to my paranoid friend who was traveling with me. My friend scorned me for talking to a stranger. It’s not like I watched his bag or anything. Although I should have asked him if he wanted to be pen pals. He’s a high school teacher, not student…so hopefully his mother won’t have a problem with me giving him something to do.

Currently Chasing: A Choice, not just an Option

In San Diego I met a man. A funny, smart, athletic, witty, alcoholic, immature man. He was kind of short and so drunk that he couldn’t stop smelling my hair, so I did what anyone would do. I slept with his tall, good looking friend. However, I found out too late that his friend was married, and all of a sudden short didn’t seem so bad. This guy made me laugh. I mean really laugh. He was drunk most of the time we were together, but nevertheless he was real and I fell in love.

After only a few months and a complete whirl-wind relationship, I moved across the country. We kept in touch, flew to visit each other and web-cammed each other whenever we could. We realized early on that it wasn’t the ideal relationship, but it didn’t stop us from giving it a try. In fact, we never actually broke up. But then again, we were never actually going out either. Eventually life got in the way and he met a girl and I met a guy and that was that. But we would still see each other now and then, and every time we did, emotions would come rushing back. The thing is, this girl that likes him…she’s been a real trooper. She would even drop him off at my house when I’d come to visit, knowing darn well what was about to happen. She didn’t care. She loved him despite his inability to be faithful. Although I’ve known him longer, she has loved him harder. She deserves him. She actually deserves better than him.

So when he texted me today to tell me he was near my neck of the woods, I froze. Part of me wanted to tell him to fly here immediately and do what he always does. Make me feel like the only one. But the other part of me couldn’t let go of the fact that I’m not the only one. I’m not even sure I’m THE one anymore.

You see, the man I’ve been off and on seeing for years is a lot like San Diego boy. He loves me, sure, but not enough to make sure I know I’m the only one. He treats me like San Diego boy treats his Lolita. Like I am expendable. And being a choice isn’t the same as being an option. And I didn’t want to be an option for San Diego boy anymore. In fact, It made me realize that I was tired of being an option for Maryland boy as well. I mean, after four years if you aren’t sure you want me, then you are sure you don’t want me. And you don’t get to just have me because you don’t want to see me with someone else. And if you’re on and off with someone, then you should just be off. (sound advice from an olive garden waiter in Mississippi.)

So my conversation with San Diego boy went something like this…

Him: So whatcha doing?

Me: Driving to dinner?

Him: What’s on the menu?

Me: Steak.

Him: Am I going to see you while I’m out here?

Me: Probably not, I’ve got a lot going on.

Him: I kinda sensed it was coming so it’s ok. I understand.

Me: I think you know I can’t go down that road again.

Him: I wish I could see you and we can just hang out. You know, as friends.

Me: We’ve never just been friends.

Him: I know, It’s hard. Why is it so hard?

Me: Because you mean too much.

Him: You mean a lot to me too. I want great things for you because I know you deserve them and I want you to be happy because you deserve that too.

Me: And I would be happy with you. But you are happy without me, and it’s hard to deal with actually losing.

Him: I’m sorry sweetie. I do love you.

Me: I know, but it’s not enough. And you are doing to her what Maryland boy does to me. If she’s your girl then stop trying to hurt her.

Him: I know.

Me: I would give my all to Maryland boy and he would parade around like he could do better. She loves you. I love you too. And I’m not going to let you be that guy.

Him: Thanks sweetie. I’m just worried that this is the best I can do.

Me: Then break up with her. You don’t deserve to have someone love you like that if you can’t do the same. If you want others then you don’t want her. Don’t be selfish. Having your cake and eating it too is old. It’s time to be a better man.

Him: yeah, you’re right.

Me: Good. Love u.

Him: Love you too. Thanks for giving it to me straight.

Me: No problem.

Fin.

It prompted one more text from me to Maryland boy.

“I love you, and you either want me or you don’t. But I refuse to go on without knowing. We either are or we aren’t, and that’s it.”

But in truth, this text gives him an option, and I’m not actually sure he has one.

Currently Chasing: Coincidence

Have you ever met a person in such extremely strange circumstances, that you just feel like no matter what happens, you are drawn to them? Yeah, me neither. But let me tell you this story anyway.

One night about three or four years ago I went out to what used to be called Bar Baltimore. It was a group of us girls. We were showing up early for a huge adult-toy party (adult barbies and adult speak and spells…that kind of thing. Or fake dicks.) I was there with a few of my besties. We had also invited my ex husbands ex wife and his (at the time) fiancé. What could go wrong?

So toward the middle of the night I’m feeling like crap. My ex husbands ex wife was already remarried and anxious to get back to her hubby. My ex husbands current fiancé was eager to get back to my ex husband as well. So there it is, in all its glory, alcohol and loneliness.

Just then a friend walks up and introduces me to her friend. I’m attracted to him right away. But let’s face it, I would have been attracted to just about anything in that moment. In fact, I had been chatting up a fake dick for an hour. So anyway, we end up dancing and talking the rest of the night and within a week, he’s my man.

Now in typical relationship fashion, we begin telling each other all about our ex’s. Turns out he has one douche bag of an ex girlfriend, who just happens to live one street over from me at the time. He said she was dating another guy, but started cheating on that guy with him. Then later in their relationship she started cheated on him with that same other guy. Classic case of ‘have cake, eat cake.’ We’ve all been there. I ask how he found out and he says that she left her email open and saw about 150 emails back and forth and called her on it. And that was the end of it.

So after four or five months he and I ended our love affair. Turns out he was getting kicked out of the Marine Corps and there was some shadiness surrounding why he was getting kicked out and my friends advised me to just cut ties and not get involved. So I did.

A few months later one of my best friends starts long-distance dating a guy on a ship in Virginia. She’s happy as hell with her new pen pal. I tell her to tell her ‘man’ to find me a pen pal on the ship. He says he knows just the person. A few days later I get an email and a photo. A nice looking, tall and SINGLE guy. Wow, I thought they were myths.

We start emailing back and forth and agree to meet up once he pulls back in port. So a week after he pulls in, I’m heading down to Virginia. On my way he calls to talk me through the road trip. And we start talking about, what else…Ex’s.

He tells me this story about this girl he was dating. She started cheating on him with some guy and then ended up cheating on that guy with him. She couldn’t make up her mind. Classic case of ‘have cake, eat cake.’ I tell him that my ex was a great guy, and that he had a similar story to that. I also mention that we broke up because of his shady release from the Marines. We keep talking…him about her, and me about him.

“What is your ex boyfriend’s name?” He asks.

“Why, he lives in Maryland, it’s not like you know him,” I respond.

“Just for shits and giggles,” he replies back.

So I tell him...and there is dead silence before I hear.

“OH MY GOD, That is the same FUCKING guy!”

“No way,” I say.

“I don’t know what’s worse, going before him, or going after him,” he snaps back.

“Should I just turn around?” I ask.

“No, but you have to admit it’s weird.”

Yeah…I’ll admit it. And it was weirder the first time he drove to my house and had to drive past hers to get there.

One day one of his friends said, isn’t it weird that this other girl keeps popping up in your life…maybe she’s your soul mate.

I beg to differ. It’s my life this bitch keeps popping up in. I feel like I should actually know this heart breaker. Cause I’ve been cleaning up her messes for years.

Currently Chasing: A Mop (and not the one on your head)

I was reminded recently of a story:

Awhile back I got a phone call from a friend. She said that while she was getting her hair cut, her hairdresser mentioned that she had a client who had a brother who had just recently gotten divorced. She said that her client had asked her if she had any single friends that he could set his brother up with.

This sent my friend into action. She said, “I have a friend I could set your client’s brother up with.” Her hairdresser said, “You do? That’s awesome.”

With that she called her client, got his brother’s number, gave it to my friend and then guess what? She called me.

“Ok, so my hairdresser gave me the number of this single guy that I think you should call.”

“Is he just some random guy or did she actually know him?” I ask.

“She knows him silly. Well, kind of. She knows his brother. But he has been married before and he has two kids, so he must be attractive.”

“What? Just because someone is married and has kids doesn’t mean they are attractive,” I quickly point out.

“Fine. All I’m saying is someone fucked him, twice. And decided he was worth marrying. That’s all I’m saying. I’ve seen your recent dates, I know you haven’t been picky lately. CALL HIM.”

So imagine the message I leave on his machine.

“Um, hi. I got your number from a friend of mine who got it from her hair dresser who got it from your brother who said you were recently divorced. Congratulations, call me back.”

And he does. At 9:30 that same evening I get a message on my voicemail.

“Hey, HI! I would love to meet you. The fact that you called a complete stranger just to get a date means you may be just the desperate kind of chick I’m looking for.”

Ok. He didn’t actually say that, but you get my point.

So we decide to meet at Duclaw. I ask him how I’ll know him. He says he will be the guy with long hair who looks like one of the Ramones and he’ll be wearing Vans with pineapples on them. I laughed, as if he was just being funny. He wasn’t. I recognized him immediately. His hair was jet black, long, hanging in his eyes. He was definitely holding on to an era. Pineapple Vans and all.

We hug and start talking and we actually hit it off very well. I decide to invite him to my roommate’s birthday party later that week. He shows up and right away my friends are confused.

“Seriously? That’s him?”

“Um, yeah, seriously,” I say.

“He’s a fucking Beatle.”

“Yeah I know right?” I respond.

He brings a gift for my roomie. It’s a CD from a band he’s a huge fan of. It’s a local band named Kidney Stone. He asks if he can play a track for her. She hesitantly says yes. It’s a song called Superman. The lyrics go something like…

“Who’s your superman now, you fucking gimp ass bitch.”

Yeah, very appropriate. A classic even. And he is banging his head and playing air guitar the whole time. And everyone is staring. And right then I realize, I’m going to date this guy. He’s too much drama not to.

So we go out on a couple of more dates and each one is better than the last. Only one problem. He’s a pot smoker. Shocker right? He doesn’t smoke around me but he smokes…and it bothers me.

So after a few weeks I end up at his house for a sleepover. It’s a great house, but it is dirty as hell. Not messy, just dirty. There aren’t dishes in the sink but it is filthy. There isn’t anything strewn about in the living room, but it’s a wreck. It just feels abandoned. We go upstairs and it only gets worse. I’m actually afraid to get in the bed.

I tell him I have to pee. He tells me I CAN’T use the bathroom in the bedroom. Instead I have to use the bathroom in the hall. When I enter it, I’m scared. It looks as if it has never seen a sponge. There is a thick black ring of death inside the toilet. The shower is a moldy, mildewy mess. If I wash my hands in here they will get dirtier, I just know it. I hover over the toilet, do my business and make my way back to the room.

There’s no way I can sleep here. I ask him why I can’t go into the other bathroom. He tells me it’s his weed room. Wow. He has a special room for his weed? It’s probably the cleanest room in the house. I tell him I have to go and quickly make my way out of his house, and subsequently, his life.

He sends me an email a few days later. It says that I shot an arrow and it landed a bullseye to his heart. He really fell for me, and he’s sorry that his first love, Mary Jane, is getting in the way of us being together. He cares about me, but she’s always been there for him. And he can’t give her up. Not now, and probably not ever. The letter was a page and half long. I wrote back one sentence.

Tell this Mary Jane girl that you care about so much to come over and clean your dirty ass house.

Currently Chasing: A Punch In The Face

This story ends with a punch to the mouth. And this blog ends with the video of it. And trust me, the ends justify the means.

My Bob Evans Boy tells me a story about how a couple of years ago he and his friends were partying at his house. He had a drink spilt all over him and decided to shower off. Now, you know the moment when you are in the shower, and you just know someone is in there with you? Well he got that exact feeling…a little bit of a breeze confirmed his suspicions. So he looked up, like most of us do, waiting for a pitcher of ice water to be dumped on our head. Instead out of his peripheral vision he sees what no man wants to see while he’s showering. A penis. Unless it's his own.

Then he realizes what is happening…his friend is pissing on his leg! Before he can even assess the situation he realizes there is another penis on the other side of him…pissing on his other leg! His friends run out laughing, he showers for an extra 15 minutes, scrubbing his legs like he’s about to put them for sale on ebay…and exits the shower. He forgave, but he didn’t forget.

Recently he is hanging with those same friends. There is also a very good looking girl hanging with them. One of his friends (the bigger of the two) decides he needs to cool off. He heads for the shower. Bob Evans knows this is his chance. He sneaks into the shower, pulls out his cock and begins to pee into the shower.

At this point there are two things you should know. #1. Once he starts peeing, he physically cannot stop. #2. If he laughs while he pees, he’ll shit his pants. Back to the story.

So he’s pissing into the three inch gap between the curtain and the wall. He moves the curtain a little bit and is shocked to see that his friend is lying down in the shower. MASTERBATING! He realizes really quickly that he is in fact pissing on his friends FACE. He tries to cut it off, but (refer to rule 1.) He wants to laugh his ass off but (refer to rule 2.) His friend jumps up and Bob Evans just continues to piss down his leg and then sprays a bit on his back, just for good measure. Then he takes off out of the bathroom.

When he gets back to his other friend and tells him what happened, his friend looks at him deadpan and says, dude, you need to leave.

“No, no, no. Remember two years ago? You guys peed on me. It’s cool.”
“No man, he’s going to be pissed!”
“Now way, it’s cool. Trust me.”

So his friend wraps up in the shower and enters the room in a towel. He locks the door behind him. And says…

“What are we going to do about this?”
“Do about what,” Bob Evans says. “Dude, you guys peed on me two years ago, we are even.”
“Asshole, I pissed on your leg…and you pissed on my back…and with that, we are even. But what are we going to do about the fact that you pissed on my FACE!”
“Do you want to piss on my face?”
“No. I want to punch you in the face.”
“I don’t have dental insurance.”
“I don’t care. Your options are, try to make it out of here past me and that locked door. Or jump out of the second story window. I won’t even chase you. You can just jump out and leave.”
“I’ll break my legs.”
“Well those are your options.”
“Will you wear a glove at least?”
“No.”
“Can I wear a mouth guard?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I guess I’ll take a punch in the face.”

See Video Below:

What you don't hear is Bob Evans, swollen mouth and all, yell ...
"Dude, that was totally worth pissing in your face."

And with that...I think I need a shower. Minus the Golden.

Currently Chasing: A Great Piece of Meat

A few hours before the big snowmaggedon storm that swept through the Maryland/DC area I got a knock on my door. A cute but shaggy looking guy was standing there. I could see a meat truck in the parking lot.

He told me that a woman in my complex had ordered a bunch of steaks, but that her credit card was declined and now he had a box of them he was trying to sell at cost. I asked him how much they were. He told me they were about $3 per steak.

My first thought was, I don’t really cook. My next thought was, this guy is cute. A few little steaks going to total waste in my freezer won’t kill me.

So he heads back to his truck. When he knocks a second time I open the door with a big smile. Only this time it’s an older guy standing there. He’s missing a couple of teeth and his shirt cannot contain his tummy. It’s making guest appearances the entire time he’s talking.

He tells me the same thing about the credit card and then starts showing me his meat. This is the second time if you count the stomach. But the entire time he’s showing me the different steaks he is complementing me. You are very pretty, check out these steak burgers. You have a great smile, look at this filet. You have a beautiful daughter, you should try this porter house.

I tell him I’ll take a couple of the steak burgers. He tells me he can’t separate the boxes. If you buy one steak burger, you need to buy all of them plus everything else. $380 bucks worth. I tell him I don’t have a deep freezer. He says he’ll help me make it fit. I tell him I don’t cook. He says he’ll give me easy to follow directions.

When he gets done with his speech I bring him into my home to show him something. I know what you’re thinking. I was thinking the same thing. This guy is going to slam the door behind him and cut me up into tiny pieces and sell me to the next person with a working credit card. But still I bring him to the fridge.

I open the freezer and I show him the steak and chicken that has been in there since I bought the house. I also let him in on the secret that I brought that meat over from the freezer in my old apartment. I looked him right in the eye and said, Sir, do you really want me to spend all this money on meat that I absolutely know will go to waste?

He quickly said no. In fact, he all of a sudden got very serious. He said he would normally try and sell me into the ground until I had no choice but to buy the meat, but he didn’t want to do that to me. In fact, he said all he really wanted to do for me was make me a steak. He looked outside as the snow started falling and said, it’s getting cold out there. He told me his was single at that it’s one thing when it’s cold outside, but even worse when it’s cold on the inside. Then he handed me his meat pamphlet and wrote his number on it. He said, if you’re ever too cold, or you just want a chef for the night, give me a call.

And with that, he walked out. Meat and all. And as he left, my tummy began to rumble. I thought to myself, steak sounds really good right now. And I knew what I was about to do.

Grab my daughter and head to Outback.

Currently Chasing: A little luck, and a can of SHUT the FUCK UP

This weekend my girlfriends and I decided to get a tattoo. Actually one of them decided, the other one followed suit, and you know me...I can't say no. I agreed to a tiny four-leaf clover. Placement was still up for debate. One said outer thigh. OUTER FUCKING THIGH?!! Are you kidding me? Like I need anything drawing more attention to that part of my body, let alone a tiny little tattoo that someone may actually mistake for skin cancer.

The other friend mentioned the wrist. Um, without even thinking, that's a no. I'm weak stomached. The thought of anything being dragged across my wrist just leaves me flushed and close to passing the fucking out. So I suggest the foot. Granted, I know there are a lot of nerves there. Basically all of them. But it was a place I could cover if need be. I don't like getting tattoos that I don't have control over. I like picking and choosing who gets to see what, when and where. We all agreed.

And lucky us. We stroll into the tattoo 'parlor' which I later refer to as a 'salon' and was quickly corrected with, "It's a Studio!" My bad. The tattoo 'studio.'

We are notified right away that we are late. Our appointment was for 7, it was now 7:07. Fine. However, this guy needs to understand that we were dealing with a Devil GPS, and as you know, those things want to drag you through every ghetto from here to wherever the fuck there is. Trust me, I thought I saw body bags on some of the lawns outside this 'studio.'

So he sits down and asks us what we want. We tell him. A four-leaf clover on our foot. Immediately he goes into a dissertation about the dangers of foot tattoos, which leads to a gruesome story about how some girl owed the Navy 18,000 bucks in back hospital bills because she got a tattoo on her foot against his recommendation and ended up having her foot cut off. Needless to say, we decided on the ankle.

Then he asked if we wanted a three leaf or a four leaf. And another dissertation about the history of each. We decided on a shamrock, instead of the four-leaf - which according to him is an old wives tale about a cow, and we are lovely ladies with an obvious amount of luck (judging by what, I wonder?) - so we went with the three leaf. For history and tradition. Although none of us are actually Irish. Fuck it. At least I’ll never get pinched for not wearing green. And speaking of Green ... That was yet another conversation. What color of green. Green yellow….greenish blue, avocado green, grass green, muddy fucking California lake style green. Who the fuck cares! It’s fucking Green for pete's sake!

Here’s where it gets weird. He tells my friend that she looks like Jennifer Tilly. She doesn’t really. Jennifer Tilly has long jet black hair (usually) and huge (probably fake) titties. She has dark eyes and dark features. My friend is the sunniest person I know, with practically platinum blond hair and amazing green/blue eyes. Not shit California lake green, but beautiful Cancun Mexico beach water green. Regardless, this Santa Claus looking mother father had some creepy weird obsession with Jennifer Tilly, therefore he had some creepy weird obsession with my friend. We have now been at this shop for an hour, we have not even sat in the chair, and now we are getting a play by play of Jennifer-fucking-Tilly’s whole gosh damn career. Luckily it really isn’t all that long.

So finally we are in the chair. But it doesn’t end there. He starts talking of the days where he traded tattoos for blowjobs. (The good ol’ days I’m sure.) And the time he tattooed ‘lucky you’ an inch above some chicks glory hole. Every five minutes he wanted to ‘tell us a funny story.’Also, he was missing part of his ear. I’m positive he talked it off.


After two more hours, and about 115,000 'funny stories' later, we are finally done. The tattoo is literally a centimeter fucking big. And it took three damn hours! He tells us the price of the tattoos are $65 a piece, which I thought was extreme, but then he threw in some $.99 lotion from Walgreens and assured us that was included in the price. Oh! Well worth it then. Thank you for not fucking me Big Time!

He used words like Ergo and told us to soak in a tub…especially our Jennifer Tilly look-alike. I’m sure.

He ended it with a signed business card and told us that we better not lose it or give it away because this lets everyone know that we were officially tattooed by him and he will refuse to sign another one in replacement of that one.

Later we went into an Irish Pub (There was a huge three-leaf Shamrock on the door)…at some point a couple started asking random strangers if they had an ‘extra’ condom. The bartender handed them a couple out of a beer pitcher. I guess shamrocks are lucky after all.

I wore stockings the other day. They got stuck on that tattoo and when I took them off a tiny green shamrock came with them. $35 bucks of it still remains on my ankle: Lucky Indeed.

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?