A FORMAL INTRODUCTION

Dear the Interwebs:


This is Adam.

I realize this picture is blurry and hard to see but I had to steal it off of Facebook because I got distracted Wednesday night, what with the naked, manly chest and all, and forgot to take another one.

You'll forgive me, I'm sure.

Now, I must admit that this little questionnaire took on a slightly different turn than I was expecting because... well.. I don't know if you've noticed, but I tend to be sarcastic and maybe even a little snarky on this here blog thing and my questions were certainly flavored in similar undertones.

His responses however, not so much. They ended up being far more cute and aww-y and, to be perfectly honest, a little bit barfy for anyone who may continue reading (which, of course means I totally melted and now want to have his babies. No, really. Ovaries are DEMANDING to be taken seriously here.)

All I'm saying is you've been warned.

And now to commence with what you've all been coming here MULTIPLE TIMES A DAY for. Enjoy.

My Questions: (Now with commentary!)

What are your Intentions with me?

When I think ‘intentions’, I think ulterior motives and pre-defined limitations of a relationship. I don’t have either of these. I want us to be ourselves and see where it takes us.

So you don't want to get in my pants? That's a little disappointing. (HI DAD!!)

What are you looking for in the opposite sex?

I looking for a woman that is happy being herself and isn’t pre-occupied with ‘Normal’. Someone with a sense of humor in line with my own. And of course, someone I’m physically attracted to.

Hey! No one has EVER accused me of being "normal."

What’s the most annoying thing that I do?

Making a reasonable request at inopportune times.

Followed closely by asking loaded questions.

So, what are you wearing?

Gym shorts… It’s hot.

I concur, though I took it a step further and just didn't wear pants. My neighbors LOVE ME.

What’s the most common phrase you hear come out of my mouth?

I think you know, and it corresponds with your most annoying thing.

Heh. You really should just obey.

Can I customize you to my exact specification?

I’m clay in the hands of a master artist.

Aww, he called me "Master." Boy's learning quick.

Do you respond better to positive or negative reinforcement?

I’m sensing a theme… I would say I respond equally to both.

I have NO IDEA what you're talking about.

What would you think if I told you my dad asked if you’d made it to second base yet?

That he was sorry he asked.

Oh, he was.

Wanna make out later?

Absolutely.

Damn right you do.

Am I really as awesome to date as everyone thinks/says?

I a little curious how everyone knows how awesome you are to date, but I’m definitely going to argue.

I get around.

Why do you think that I’m allergic to you?

It was just a hypothesis I was working on early on, you kept sneezing and coughing whenever I was close. You don’t seem to displaying the symptoms any longer but you could’ve built up immunity…

Aw, see I was beginning to agree with you.

What all you determined I’m using you for?

First off, you said it first. But here’s the list so far: my backyard, laundry, I make an excellent Guin chew toy, and I think there was something else…

See, this is where, if you were smart, you'd say things like, "Of course you can come over and use my washing machine. That just gives me a chance to spend more time with you. Hey, while you're at it and if it isn't too much to ask, could you throw some of my work shirts/jeans/underwear in with yours?" But see, now you've missed your chance because I'M ON TO YOU!

What are you going to be wearing in 10 minutes?

You’re right. These would’ve been more fun if I was answering this while you were here, too.

That's because I am ALWAYS right.

Do you like Guinness?

Of course!

You're the only one...

Your Questions: (followed by EVEN MORE commentary!!)

What do you do for a living?

I’m a computer programmer at a company called ((CENSORED, you know, just in case)) in Cincinnati. We make/import bath & window décor and sell it to all of the major retailers. I write software that support all the phases of business.

Oh my god, I want you.

Do you have any siblings?

Yes, 2 brothers and a sister. I am the oldest, then my sister who just graduated law school, then my brother who graduated from college a year ago and my final bro just finished his junior year in college.

I have yet to meet them so no comment yet.

Do you truly understand the sister dynamic? And to stay out of the line of fire?

I’ve been warned but in the line of fire is more fun than on the side lines, most of the time.

Ohh! Ohh, sweetie, no. I'll admit it's fun to watch and your best course of action would be to grab a beer and pull up a chair (while still ensuring room for a hasty retreat), but I would recommend you NEVER step into the line of fire. We can make grown men cry. I've seen us do it.

Do you like spicy food?

Yep.

He tastes like jalapeños.

Could you hold your own when drinking with Trini?

I’ve been told I wouldn’t stand a chance, and I’d have to agree.

Can anyone?

What's your Cornhole (the GAME PEOPLE!!) handicap?

I’m not sure how to calculate my handicap but I win more than I lose.

I'll show you cornhole.

The way I see it, there are 2 kinds of people: those who like Animaniacs and those who don't. So, which are you?

I like the Animaniacs, I haven’t seen it for a long time but I have multiple songs on my pc.

And he's zany to the max!

Who is your favorite Muppet?

When I was a young’n I would’ve said Animal but I’ve got some Swedish Chef clips on my pc.

It's a lie. He totally digs Miss Piggy.

If you could pick any nickname for yourself, what would it be and why?

Trabek, because I’ve been handing out so many answers to questions.

Favorite SNL sketch EVER.

If you could provide me with transportation, what would it be?

I have a Mazda, but I’m thinking of getting a Vespa… KIDDING

Son, please. You're going to be riding bitch on the back of my V*Star.

What is your nickname for me?

I don’t have one yet.

I would respond to "woman" but only if it were used in the form of a question. (ie - "Woman, where's my sammich?!")

Angelina or Jen?

They’re both crazy, but if I had to choose, Angelina.

The man has a thing for sexy lips.

Do you cook? Better yet, do you cook well?

I don’t actively cook for myself. I have in the past but I don’t take the time anymore. I can definitely follow a recipe.

Feed me?

Where did you go to school?

Miami University

This makes him better than you.

What did you major in?

System Analysis (Computer Science)

Be still my beating heart.

What was you GPA?

I’m not entirely sure, between 2.6 and 2.8 I think, but closer to 3.5 within my major.

HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW?! My entire self-worth REVOLVED around my GPA. I realize now I had issues and I'll appreciate you shutting it.

What is you best quality?

I think Shannon would be better to answer this but I’ll say I’m very easy going and rational.

His butt. HANDS DOWN.

What is you favorite thing about me?

I love to make her laugh.

D'aww. How cute is that?! Also, he's lying. It's my smokin' rack.

SURPRISE BONUS QUESTION!!!

What do I owe you for doing this?

I take all forms of currency.

Why are you always grinning when you say that?

THE END.

WHILE WE WAIT (PATIENTLY) FOR OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING..

... I thought I might embarrass someone else for a little while and share with you a conversation I had with the Distraction this morning.

And scene:

"No, you'll give him a key at some point so he can 'help you' by letting Guinness out and, if he's smart AT ALL, he'll use that key to break into your apartment and have a nice candle-lit dinner and some flowers waiting for you when you get home."

"Sounds like you're talking from experience?"

"Hell, yeah. I did that for Ex-girlfriend. I parked around the block so she didn't know I was there and put flowers in front of her garage door so she had to bend down to pick them up. Then she walked into the front door and I was there waiting with dinner set out and candles lit. It was perfect."

"Did you get laid that night?"

"That night?! I got laid that instant. Let me tell you, skirts are the way to go."

AND I LIKED IT

"I just downloaded a new song, 'I Kissed a Girl.' It's sung by a girl. It makes me giggle."

"Yeah, I've heard of that one, too."

"You know, I've kissed a girl before. New Years Eve for example."

"There's a difference between kissing a girl and kissing a girl. I mean, I've kissed a guy."

"Experimenting, were we?"

"No. We were playing a drinking game. There were rules. We lost."

"I'm pretty sure that is about the best way to tell a story EVER. Short, sweet, to the point, and hilarious."

SEND ME YOUR QUESTIONS

In the last few days, it's become rather evident that I'm going to be keeping #9 around for some time and, having seen Nick's introduction to Sarah Cool's blog, I thought it might be fun to blatantly steal her idea and do the same for my new guy (despite the fact that he has yet to meet the fam-damn-ly.)

Last night I sat down all prepared to create the list to end all lists, filled to the brim with teasing and embarrassing questions designed purely to test the poor man's mettle. The onslaught (or barrage if you will) was to be glorious and maybe even a little bit painful (because that is how I roll). Only... I can't really think of what to ask him. Oh, don't get me wrong. I have thought up a few zingers that might soon send him scurrying under the table to hide and sob and rock and ask himself why? oh god, why?, but the glory that was to be is not so much glorious as it is pitiful.

Therefore, I am again turning to you, dear interwebs. What do you want to know about the yet-to-be-renamed-#9? NO QUESTION WILL GO UNANSWERED!! NOTHING IS TOO TABOO!! All shall be answered (maybe not satisfactorily, because, come on. My dad reads this here blog thing, but ANSWERED THEY SHALL BE NONETHELESS!)

So come one and come all. If you read my blog with any amount of regularity, you are REQUIRED to post a question. Any question. Pretty please? And if you don't, I shall be muy sad. So play along DAMNIT!

Do it now!

OPEN MOUTH, INSERT FOOT

"I don't really have a favorite sports team. I usually tend to root against the team everyone else likes and boy, have I gotten screamed at. Like when I rooted for John Cena. Not because I wanted him to win, but because he was my number and there was money on the line. 'Your future children will have hooves for this.'"

"Yeah, I remember you telling me about that. Good thing to know about my future children."

"..."

"I MEAN, should I ever NEED to know about that. In the future. Umm..."

"Ahahahahaha!"

"Damnit."

* * *

"So I have bad knees, bad ankles, bad wrists, bad fingers..."

"So how are you expecting to be able to make me... um..."

"Make you what?"

"Nothing! Nevermind! It's inappropriate."

"Hasn't stopped you before."

REASSURANCES

"So you're basically implying that you might like me. Is it just that you like me or do you like like me?"

"Hah! Fine! I like like you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

THE INNER WORKINGS OF THE FEMALE MIND

Dear Interwebs,
Hi. I don't know if you've noticed or not but I am a girl.

If you're shocked, you're an ass.

Anyway! As a girl, I have this awful tendency to over analyze things. Things such as the global impact I'm having should my morning shower last over 10 minutes, or how wasteful I'm being by not eating the heel of the loaf of bread, or the sheer extravagance it now seems to drive to Clifton on the weekends to see my friends, or how guilty I feel for leaving my dog every day all by himself and placating him with food and OMG! He's going to be a fat, sausage dog because I only walked him 3 miles today instead of 4 or 5 and he definitely had more than his fair share of treats, AM BAD DOG MOMMY, or how exactly this relationship with a certain person of other-gender is going to work out. Because you notice? That right there? I CARE. I have a somewhat vested interest in whether or not this guy will pan out, something I had yet to feel with any of the others.

Which... shit.

Because tonight? Is only our fifth date, and my imagination is running H-A-V-O-C and I CANNOT READ THIS GUY. Which... is not entirely true, otherwise I would not have this previously mentioned gut instinct. So what that means is it isn't so much that I can't read him, I just don't trust myself to do it, because, what if I'm wrong?! What if he's just pretending to be interested in hanging out with me for some malicious reason? (Okay. I know. I KNOW! I am perfectly aware of how dumb that sounds, honest to god, I am, but as previously mentioned, I am a girl and therefore cannot be held accountable when logic and common sense take an OCCASIONAL vacation because I'm just a little bit more than slightly interested in a guy. A guy who happens to be smart and funny and successful and the brand new love of my preshus puppy's life.)

But, then again, tonight IS our third date in a week's time.

I'm pretty sure he's interested.

(The hell, though? What do I need, a freaking neon sign and his head firmly lodged up my ass? Um.. actually... that sounds like exactly what I want. Is that really too much to ask?!)

IN NEED OF A NEW NICKNAME

After a wonderful third date Thursday evening of dinner and pool and questions and flirting and him (finally) kissing me, I had a pretty strong gut feeling this weekend that Bachelor #9 would be sticking around for some time.

Last night confirmed it.

Not only did he not call Guinness annoying ONCE (even though he deserved it a few times), he let him chew on his hand for a solid five minutes and LAUGHED about it and played with him and pet him and showed him a general fondness. And Guinness seemed to take a liking to him as well, going so far as to lay himself across his chest and tuck his head under his chin, a maneuver he typically only reserves for me.

HUGE points in his favor. I mean... huge.

AND! He respects my boundaries. I know! Who knew, right? Also, really cute.

Last night, as a matter of course, I informed him of my intent to keep him around for a while, adding in a warning that for exactly how long was up to him (ie - annoying, needy, and domineering behavior would land his ass right out on the curb.) He laughed and asked how I felt about high maintenance.

So here is the thing. I need a new nickname for lucky Bachelor #9. Because "#9" sounds... what? Tacky? Nondescript? Boring? Slutty? Therefore, if he is to spend any amount of time around me and thus, any amount of time on this hear blog, then I need a new name to call him.

Help?

LOVE LETTERS

Dear Guinness,
I'm very sorry about kicking you in the head on our walk this evening. There must have been something incredibly interesting in the path of my foot and I just couldn't react in time.

Love,
Mama



Dear Mommy,
Is okay. Only minor concushun. I is tuff and haz hard head. Didn't even whimper like lil sissy dog cousin.

I can haz yer foods now though, right?

Paws,
Guin



Dear Guinness,
No, you can not "haz" my food.

XOXO,
Mama



Dear Female,
Bitch.

G

COMMON COURTESY IS, APPARENTLY, NOT SO COMMON

Dear Bachelor #2:

First off, don't text message me when you've been drinking. Because you're an idiot and it results in me telling you to f*ck off. And really, really meaning it.

Secondly (um, is that even a word?), don't be late. And stop cancelling on me. I realize you have a house you're trying to move into but there is a LOT to be said for making a girl feel special, and not being up to going out with me because you've been working on your house all day is not it.

Thirdly, if you ARE going to take me out, don't do it just to tell me an hour later, after I've already had a beer and can no longer drive anywhere (Why, yes. I am aware I'm a light weight. You want to make something of it BECAUSE I WILL CUT YOU.), that you are too tired to hang out anymore and are going to go home to bed. IT IS NOT EVEN TEN O'CLOCK, YOU ARROGENT JACKASS. What? You think you are the ONLY person I have to hang out with? You weren't even willing to come in and veg out on the couch.

I would have rathered you cancelled.

So I'm going to go back to my previous statement from last night. F*ck off.

SLAP-HAPPY

I am exhausted.

I have spent WAY too many nights this week (see: all of them) up late talking to various people. Now, it is generally assumed that when I'm tired, I'm cranky, and while this is true, there is one stage we reach before the cranky begins.

This stage has many names. Slap-happy. Goofy. Weird. Mostly weird.

Because you know what I did this morning? I sent an email out to my entire department, an email that anyone can walk in and request to see, and I used that email to all but declare war on a neighboring department.

All while giggling maniacally.

A LETTER FOR THE LADIES

My dear fellow womanly interwebers one and all! BEHOLD! For I have found the secret required to attract the men folk from near and far to your gracious and lovely forms.

Decide you don't want one.

Oh, it's easy enough to SAY you don't want on but that just won't cut it. You really need to mean it. You really have to believe it in order for this type of magic to occur, because it really does work like magic. In nigh on 24 hours OR LESS, the air will be ignited with sparks causing planets to reform and align into a giant, flashing, cosmic neon sign pointing right at your pretty little head and announcing to the whole of the male populous that you are frustrated and disinterested, a clear sign to back off and leave you alone, right? WRONG! These men will instead translate your disinterest into a seeming unattainability of sorts which will then SKYROCKET your apparent hotness exponentially. AND THEN! those bastards wil be coming out of the everloving woodwork.

But fear not. There is still one surefire cure to send them scurrying back to their little black holes.

The sweet, sweet reek of desperation.

THE REAL TRAGEDY OF IT ALL

Dear, sweet Interwebs, did you know I was fallible? Human? Prone to fits of stupidity and naivety? BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL DIDN'T. Why didn't anyone TELL ME?!

And now here I sit, shocked and dismayed. Appalled even. Because Bachelor #10? Did you know he was a player? Because he is. Oh hardcore he is AND I FELL FOR IT. But worse yet, I didn't REALIZE UNTIL THIS M-O-R-N-I-N-G that I fell for it.

But! But! But! Get this! He's a NERD! A genuine nerd! The man is a professional BAND GEEK for crying out loud! He used to be into D&D! He had a mullet in high school! (His defense on that one was it was the early 90s. Yes, he's that much older than me.) Geeks are not SUPPOSED to be smooth or charming or gut-wrenchingly funny! HE CHEATED!!!! I was not properly warned! And it is one thing, Dear Interwebs, to be duped and fall for a line in the moment but to not REALIZE it was a line until 36 hours later?!

I... am ashamed.

And the real tragedy of it all and the one thing that should have been the clearest indicator that I was maybe dealing with a professional? He is a really, really, REALLY good kisser. Like, good enough that if he DOES call back (which, like I said yesterday, I'm not really expecting) I might be seriously tempted to hang out with him again just FOR the kissing.

HELLO, INTERWEBS. I AM 25 FREAKING YEARS OLD AND I STILL NEED A CHAPERONE.

At least the second time around I'll be more skeptical, right? Right? Hello??? F*ck.

MEN OF HONOR

Bachelor #2 now holds the distinct honor of being the first person, with the help of Guinness, to spill something on the Patriot.

And it just so happens it was RED FREAKING WINE.

Jackass.

A BREAK BORE OF FRUSTRATION

Uch. I am done. DEE YOU ENN. Done.

It's gotten to the point where this just isn't fun anymore so what I'm going to do? I'm going to let the few remaining of the initial ten (oh, yes, Dear Interwebs, we're up to Bachelor #10) peter out into nothingness like they are all so bound to do and then I'm going to take a nice long break because I'm tired and I'm drained and, worst yet, I'm frustrated.

Because, you know? Out of all of this mess, I really found out that I have stronger feelings for the Distraction than I thought I did. And, because he and I have always been clear and upfront about our feelings and expectations, I told him that I was interested in more from of him.

Bottom line, he isn't ready. Not with me, not with anyone.

And then there is Bachelor #2 of the Piss-Me-Off persuasion who I really should just get rid of because I know it isn't going to work out and who, as a matter of fact, I probably will kick to the curb tonight when he comes over but for whatever reason I haven't done that yet.

Which brings us to Bachelor #9 who is still in the picture seeing how we've gone on two dates now but I'm not really sure of his interest level either despite him telling me he would call me again this week, but who, after date number two, isn't exactly someone I could see myself with long term.

And finally, Bachelor #10 who I met last night. I really rather like Bachelor #10. I like him the best out of the remaining three. He made me laugh until I cried. Alas, I remain unconvinced he'll call.

And that is just frustrating.

COUGAR

Two of my coworkers were standing around my desk, one threatening me with the possibility of maiming my eye if I didn't start a project for her, the other laughing uncomfortably and eyeing her suspiciously, when a fine looking guy walked by with one of the HR reps.

Let's just say he had a nice behind.

As he left, we mentioned to the HR rep that I thought he was attractive and inquired if she knew his age. She didn't know, but she went to go check. (YEAH! Because I have ins with HR 'round my joint!)

He was born in 1988.

HR: "Is that too young for you?"

Me: "I was born in '82! Let's just say if he can't buy beer, he's too young for me."

HR: "Are you sure? You could be a cougar."

Me: "!!! Don't you have to be a certain age to be considered a cougar? Like 40? 45?"

HR: "Alright. That's fine. You can be a baby courgar."

The Eye Maimer: "A whore baby cougar."

Bitches.

THE NEW AMERICAN DREAM

OMFG, you guys!!! Do any of you remember my fake internet boyfriend? Well, he just friended me on Facebook which means I am THAT much closer to having cheap, meaningless, and disappointing sex with an internet quasi-celebrity of questionable reputation!

Dreams really DO come true!

A FITTING TAGLINE IT WOULD SEEM

Tompkins: "It's okay. My wife is tough. She can take it."

Me: "Whereas I am a delicate flower."

Everyone else: "Damnit."

WHEREIN I ADMIT I'M AN IDIOT

So... um... we may not be kicking Bachelor #2 to the curb so soon after all. He managed not to piss me off once all night long and took me to see Iron Man and he cleans up nice and his butt looked really good in those pants and he killed bugs for me in my apartment and he drives a nice car and he has a house with a fenced in back yard and he's going to get a girl dog that Guinness can play with and if I keep him around long enough he might build me stuff or, better yet, teach me to build stuff.

I know, I KNOW! Quelled rage a mere 24 hours ago but STOP JUDGING ME! I mean, no, this guy is not The One (and should I ever be silly enough to say to you dear interwebs that I want to marry him, STOP ME) but he's fun for right now.

Besides, if I kicked him to the curb, my other boy issues (which I have yet to complain about, but oh... fret not, dear interwebs because I will) would be a bit less complicated. AND WHO WOULD WANT THAT?


Ed. Note: Ohh. He also likes Chuck Palahniuk who I am a complete and utter geek over because I have read nearly everything he has written* and oh, do I heart him so very, very, very much and want to have his demented little babies.

*There are a mere three books of his I am missing from my collection: Stranger Than Fiction: True Stories, Rant, and Fugitives and Refugees, any of which would make a great birthday, Christmas, belated housewarming, or just because present for the sick and twisted mind that is me. GET ON IT!

A BLOG ABOUT MY FEELINGS... AND BOYS... AND MY FEELINGS ABOUT BOYS

Dear Reader(s), I have a bit of a conundrum on my hands. I am going to a coworker's wedding this afternoon with Bachelor #2, who, at this point and if I was smart, I would drop like a bad, bad habit. Because he pissed me off something awful last night.

Twice.

You see, Bachelor #2? He was in Texas on business, and apparently his business is MUCH different from my business because he called me Tuesday night a little worse for wear in the beverage department, which he obtained for free. I took this as an opportunity to give him a little good-natured ribbing because we'd been on three dates to this point and the guy has not attempted to touch me. Open my car door? Yes. Pay for me? Yes. Ask me out again and again? Yes. A hug, a kiss, a cordial handshake? Sorry about your luck.

So I called him out on it by merely suggesting that if he were interested at all in making a move, I M-I-G-H-T be receptive (EXACT FREAKING WORDS HERE PEOPLE).

He took that to mean that our line of conversation could jump from first to fifth gear WITHOUT ANY TRANSITION WHATSOEVER. And I'll admit, I did not do the best of jobs reining him in once it went down hill. And holy god, what a hill.

But it was in that course of conversation that he all but invited himself along to this wedding because I was not yet with date. (This was BEFORE he turned all smarmy on me and yes, that is my only defense. What? You want to make something of it?)

Then last night he decided to stretch his perverted reach once again and demand something inappropriate in exchange for going to this wedding and after I shot his ass down he called later to SEE IF HE COULD GET OUT OF GOING. His excuse was that his dad was mad at him that he'd been doing all this work on his house while Bachelor #2 was gone on business and he really needed to spend the day helping out so his dad didn't ditch him completely.

Also, I was apparently wound a bit tight because I didn't find his "jokes" nearly as funny as I had on Tuesday.

Lucky for him, he grew up with three sisters and knows that the uncomfortable silences equal TRYING TO QUELL THE RAGE.

And really? At this point, I don't want him to go with me but he still is for a number of not very good reasons which I will list for you now:

• I had already turned in my RSVP with just little ole me listed on it but the coworker in question said it was still okay and, in fact, encouraged me to bring somebody.


• Once I told her I really was bringing someone, she had to rearrange her seating arrangements to accommodate him. (I did not know this until it was in the midst of happening and it also moves my ass from sitting near a coworker I dislike greatly.)


• It would be embarrassing at this point to show up dateless.


• I cannot get ahold of the Distraction to try to get him to take his place.

And now I get to spend the evening babysitting a date I don't really want to have while trying not to fall over in my three-inch heels and remaining appropriate yet sociable with people I have to work with every day who are gunning for me to do something stupid so they can HOLD IT OVER MY HEAD FOREVER AND EVER, AMEN.

BUT, SO HELP ME GOD, I WILL HAVE FUN AT THIS FECKING THING!

And then I'll throw his ass to the curb.

WE MAY HAVE TAKEN THE JOKE A TOUCH TOO FAR

Me: "I had to go shopping for a dress last night because I'm going to a wedding this weekend."

Cute and Funny Male Coworker: "ME TOO!"

Me: "Oh no! I hope we didn't get the same dress! Is yours black?"

C&FMC: "It is."

Me: "Does it swoop down in the back?"

C&FMC: "It does."

Me: "We may just have a crisis on our hands."

C&FMC: "Probably not, because my dress? It swoops way down."

Me: "Ohh! Does it show a little butt cleavage?"

C&FMC: "It shows the whole butt. It's really more of strip of black fabric that covers the nipple area. Anything below that is out in the open."

Me: "Oh wow. That's kind of tragic."

* * *

And then today:

Me: "I didn't see you when I was out walking Guinness last night!"

C&FMC: "That's because I didn't leave this god-awful place until 7. As in p.m."

Me: "That would be why. I got back early so I could go shoe shopping."

C&FMC: "Because that is very important."

Me: "It is! I had to get a little something to go with my new dress."

C&FMC: "Oh. (Conspiratorially) Are they slutty?"

Me: "Umm, yeah. They have to match the dress. Because toe cleavage is sexy!"

FITS OF GIGGLES

Think of all the situations in your life where laughing is NOT appropriate but it's kind of okay if everyone else involved is laughing too.

That's how my lunch went yesterday.

CONVERSATIONS WITH COWORKERS

Me: "I'm excited. I get to go to Olive Garden tonight."

Coworker A: "Why are you going there?"

Me: "I have a date with lucky Bachelor #9."

Coworker A: "After you're done with him can I be Bachelor #10?"

Me: "Aww. That's sweet of you but you don't exactly meet my qualifications. I mean, for one, you're married."

Coworker A: "I'm also 64."

Me: "There is that."

Coworker 2: "You know there's a saying: There may be snow on the mountain but that doesn't mean there isn't a fire in the furnace."

Coworker A: "But does he have the wood to sustain the fire?"

THE TALLY SO FAR

Guinness	Chewbacca	Naughty Occurrence
X	X	Marked in Grandma and Grandpaw's house
	X	Marked more than once in Grandma and Grandpaw's house
	X	Almost marked his Grandpaw's leather jacket
X		Almost marked his Grandpaw's brandy new motorcycle
X	X	Snuck in the laundry room
X		Snuck in the laundry room and pooped on Grandma's pink shirt
X	X	Attempted to pick a fight with a dog that was bigger than him
X	X	Instigated a fight with his cousin
X		Won those fights
X	X	Got put in time out
X		Required his jaws pried open to retrieve the treat he stole from his cousin
X	X	Bit his mama
X	X	Bit his aunt
X	X	Got called a "bad egg" by his Grandpaw
X		Ran out of the yard
X	X	Promptly passed out upon leaving his Grandma and Grandpaw's house

COJONES

"The machine ate your document."

"That machine! That machine hates me!"

"Oh! (My boss' boss' boss)! It's not just that machine."

"I HEARD THAT!"

MAN DOWN

Like nearly every other day before, I arrived home for lunch just moments after 11:30 a.m. and unlocked the door. I stepped over the threshold and closed the door softly behind me. Turning, I took my first tentative stride up the steps when my eyes fell upon it.

A lone, plastic squeaker.

I reached out, picking it up gingerly, almost reverently, and gave it a test squeeze. A wheezy, half-hearted cough dribbled from the pin-hole mouth. My shocked and appalled stare fell on Guinness. He stared, cool, calm and collected, back at me.

Slowly I continued up the stairs knowing in my very core what I was about to find yet hoping beyond hope it wouldn't be true.

The carnage I found was horrid. Fluffy, white squirrel guts were strewn the breadth of the living room and into the hall, the torn and broken carcass left carelessly where it had fallen. I laughed in exasperation. Guinness casually sniffed his butt.

Goodbye, dear squirrel friend. Depart knowing you lasted longer than puppy and probably hour-per-hour matched ducky. Goodbye that $6 I spent that would have been used just as effectively had I put it in Guinness' mouth directly. At least now I won't have to smell your bad dog-breath scented body or feel the brush of your slobber drenched faux fur. Nor will I ever again be awaken at THREE THIRTY IN THE EFFING MORNING BECAUSE, OH HI, MOM! YOU WERE GONE ALL EVENING AND I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO MISS ANY IMPORTANT PLAY TIME! YOU'RE AWAKE(ISH) NOW?! LOVEMELOVEMELOVEMEPETMEBITE! BITE BITE! WHAT? YOU DON'T LIKE BITE? HOW ABOUT IF I DO IT LIKE THIS? NO? HOW ABOUT HARDER?!

Little shit.

GO LOCAL SPORTS TEAM AND/OR COLLEGE!

"Hey! Why don't you stop bogarting my ticket?!"

"What did you say?"

"... Stop bogarting my ticket?"

"What does that even mean?"

"Hogging."

"..."

"Hogging? To hog?"

"..."

"It means, 'May I have my ticket, please?'"

"You're weird."

"I know."


(Tonight marks a monumentous occassion, for tonight is the first night I shall ever attend a Reds game, EVER, despite having lived in Cincinnati for nigh on seven years now. A fact which caused my coworker to call me a horrible human being. And I WOULD have called him an ass in return but the new girl was there and we're supposed to act all nice and not strange around the new girl. But he's a short, stubby bastard!)

KIND OF OKAY

This morning when I walked into work I found out that a four-year-old boy drowned in one of our pool on Saturday.

This evening when I was out with Guinness, he spent the better part of the mile walk home from the park trying to catch bugs.

Sometimes life really, really sucks.

And then sometimes... it's kind of okay.

WE NEED GIRLFRIENDS

Yesterday, Potential Bachelor #8 (Why yes, we are up to number 8.)("Potential" because he has not yet asked me out. Oh, but he will. Because I am that awesome.) introduced me to "We Need Girlfriends".

I am now much in his debt.

I am also now much in need of this shirt:



Which you may buy for me here. (XL, please.)

Just watch. Only then can you truely understand the awesomeness.


(Also, my dog just gave me an in to introduce myself to one of my neighbors. All I have to say about that is GOOD DOG.)

BOOB DAY*

"What are you doing?"

"Not much, why?"

"We're walking by the building and I think you should come out and say hi."

"Why?"

"Because it would be nice."

"Ehh."

"And because I'm wearing an awesome boob shirt."

"Ohh!"

"With no bra."

"What's with the skank?"

"Because it's hot out."

"And hot equals skank?"

"Um, yeah. So are you coming out?"

"I'll be right there."


*Blatently stolen from the sexiest man on the internet.

24: THERE WILL BE LUNCH

The following is a phone conversation that took place between the hours of 11 and noon:

"What?"

"Did you get me a chocolate milkshake?"

"YES! I got you a freaking milkshake."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and I got me one, too."

"Oh, well that's good, because I was just calling to offer you sexual favors to convince you to get said milkshake."

"Wait, what? Wha... what sexual favors?"

"Well, nothing now because you already got me mah milkshake."

"What?! You suck!"

"Muahahahahaha!"

"That's it! I'm just going to drink your milkshake!"

"NOOOOO!"

LESSON LEARNED

Apparently, it is not wise to use the search term "swallows" (the bird) when your safe search function is turned off.

Ew.

Ed. Note: Particularly when the bird I meant to look up was a sparrow.

Sigh.

AT LEAST I HOPE YOU WERE BLITZED

Dear Random Drunk Woman in a Bar;

If you are going to get blitzed out of you mind and yell things like you "ain't got no tits or no ass," then I cannot be held responsible when my snarky-assed response is, "Well let us all thank God for your charming personality."

It simply could not be helped.

Sincerely,

The Management

NOT YOUR PAWN

Um... I almost feel as though the stars and moons and planets all aligned in perfect order last night. All in an attempt to play a practical joke on me.

I mean, there I was talking to the man I should want but don't, the man I do want but probably can't have, the man I shouldn't want but still kinda do a weeeeee little bit, and the man I cannot stand.

ALL. IN. THE. SAME. NIGHT.

Three of them AT. THE. SAME. TIME.

I mean hell, don't you people have jobs?

And I'm struggling, dear interwebs, to wrap my simple girl brain around the absurdity of it all. I.. I just can't. I am failing miserably. And all I have to say for myself is I must have pissed off some minor god something awful for him to be screwing with me like this.

Not that I'm upset by all this attention. I just don't get it. WHY ALL AT THE SAME TIME?!

OH HOT DAMN

Bachelor #5? FA-REAKING H-O-T.

He has a beard. He used to train in UFC. He's built like I like, all broad in the chest. He has a beard. He has four tattoos. He's smart and funny. He has two dogs, one of them a pitbull. Did I mention he has a beard?

Good god, I really hope he calls me back.

ON SECOND THOUGHT

The first thought that flashed through my mind as I stepped into the cool, slick wetness on the floor began with "f" and ended in "ucking bastard."

The second thought that passed through my head was about how I spilt some of his water on the floor when I refilled his dish and was too lazy to wipe it up.

Let us all take a moment to thank God for that second thought.

BETTER THAN ANY OTHER KIND OF WHORE

So Bachelor #2 may not have wooed me, but he did just call to ask me to a movie on Saturday, and, if I play my cards right, there may be a Bachelor #4.

I am such an attention whore.

MY WEEKEND

So let me tell you about my weekend. Bachelor #3? I ended up meeting him and several of his friends on Thursday night at the bar.

Oh. My. God.

He was so painfully awkward it hurt. HURT. Seriously, who the hell is stupid enough to invite a woman HE JUST MET to sit on his lap or, later, to join in the proposed wet t-shirt contest several of his white ass trash friends are teasing about having? I... am appalled. Disgusted. More than mildly annoyed. So I cancelled Sunday because, son, please.

The other two dates weren't bad. They just weren't what I was looking for.

So... yeah. Lackluster at best. Plus one very idiotic, moronic, stupid-ass hick. And now I'm feeling lonely. Because some of this made me realize a little bit of what I might want. And oh, surprising, it's a little bit of what I can't have.

Seems like a familiar theme.

DOOR #3

Three dates. I now have three dates for this weekend.

I spent a better portion of my time at the laundry mat talking to Bachelor #3. I told him my dog was named Guinness. He told me we have to get married now.

He watches NASCAR, listens to country music, and drives a pickup truck.

I told him welcome to the family.

EGOTISTICAL

For the record, in case any one had any doubts, the ego boost alone is so worth the money it cost to sign up.

Yeehaw.

GLEEFUL

Thursday evening, after a long day at the office, I finally bit the bullet. I finally, officially, signed up for match.com, "about me" section and all.

And since I know you're curious, this is what I decided on:

I think I'm attractive and I've been told I have a great smile, which might be why I think it's my best feature. I'm about 5'6" with chin-length brown hair and I recently started trying to get into shape with the help of my dog, Guinness, who I walk at least twice a day. I'm looking for someone who has similar interests to my own, however, I'm open to new places, thoughts, and ideas. I'm always willing to learn. Physically, I tend to find myself drawn to tall, stocky brunettes and love a clean, well-trimmed beard. However, I love personality and if you've got it, you could be 5'6" and blond. I love to laugh so a good sense of humor is a must. I prefer beer to wine, I'm at my most comfortable in jeans, and I'm not afraid to get my hands a little dirt but I clean up well when given the opportunity.

I thought that sounded a little less frightening than Barnes' version, true as it may well be.

I've been signed up since Thursday, four whole days, and as of about an hour ago, I have two dates for next weekend. (I'll wait while you all do a jig on my behalf.)

It certainly helps that I am such a charming conversationalist. (Stop laughing. I really am.)

And one of these gentleman knows I have a blog (Hi Ryan!). And an adoring public (Hi Tiff!). And that nothing is sacred*.

It should been an interesting week.


*(Ed. Note: Oh yeah. That link might not be work appropriate. (Que maniacal giggling))

HALF MINE AND SHE'S A BITCH

Around Easter I went home, mostly to show off the new dog, and partially because I wanted to see my dad. Because I love him and he's way cooler than your dad.

See: His new baby.


And I helped him find it. According to my legal department, that makes it half mine.

It was while I was home that I went out with a sister, the one whose nickname starts with a "b", (and, more often than not, ends in an "itch"). This sister, she and I took the dogs to Petsmart. It was after this visit that we were going to get lunch at a neighboring Panera and take it home. At least, so I thought.

She thought differently.

As I held on to two rowdy pups, she made the executive decision to EAT OUTSIDE. In 37 degree weather.

I had to warm my hands on a BAGETTE. I could no longer feel them by the time I got in the car.

She will rue the day. That is all.

THREE CHEERS FOR THIS CITY'S FINEST (EXCEPT NOT REALLY)

Dear whichever patrol officer was driving squad car #11 just before 7 a.m. this morning,

I don't know what city you're from, but I've never been to the city where the pedestrian DIDN'T have the right of way. Especially when in a cross walk and has a walk signal.

I was walking my dog. You very nearly hit us. I can now assure you that you are, in fact, an asshole. Because I know you were curious.

NEENER NEENER NEENER

This weekend I went home for a multitude of reasons.

None of them Easter.

And while I was there, Guinness and Chewbacca met for the very first time.

It didn't go that well. I attribute that fact to Chewie TAUNTING Guinness from my sister's lap.

Me: "They would have gotten along better if Chewie played by the rules."

Bean: "You don't know! Maybe it was Guinness who wasn't playing by the rules."

Me: "Oh yeah, I forgot. Chewie did call mom as base. 'I'm on base Guinness! Mom is base! Stoooopppp it! I said I was on base!'"

Dad" "You two could not have chosen pets closer to your personalities growing up if you had tried."

THOSE PICTURES I PROMISED YOU

So apparently, my dog is into light bondage as he is oft tied up in his leash. And that bluish green thing? That was his puppy.



His puppy lasted all of two days.



Because I wasn't watching for all of five minutes.



And he managed to tear puppy's forehead open.



But not before repeatedly sexually molesting him.



And then staring forlornly as his missing testicles as if to say, "What happened to my happy ending?"

Rest in pieces puppy. Rest in fuzzy, fluffy pieces.

DOG DAYS

Oh hi hai. (Ed. Note: Fixed on Jennith's behalf.)


So, funny thing. It's rather difficult to update a blog when you're trying to keep an eye on a brandy new dog.

Who knew?

Anyway, I finally found a camera (and by found I mean "borrowed") that actually turned on! A novel concept, that. And pictures will be forthcoming.

Also stories. I am overflowing with the stories.

LIESEL'S BOYFRIEND

I would like you all, dear interwebs, to welcome the newest member of the SLRd family:

Guinness Stout

I'm not kidding. That's his name. Isn't he a looker?

More pictures when I find a decent camera. I swear to god, you would think at least one of these bloody effing cameras would work for me but noooooo.

HEART!!

DANGEROUS CONFESSIONS

So maybe it's because my hormones are going ape shit, or because I was seriously miffed at the Distraction this weekend (who I'm technically not seeing but.. yeah, whatever), but I started thumbing through the internet dating scene this weekend just sort of seeing who was out there.

Namely match.com.

Shut up.

No, really. Shut the hell up.

And here's the thing. For as awkward and uncomfortable as I am about the whole scene, I found several guys I wouldn't mind being friends with and maybe even casually dating. And, let's be honest, I'm not really getting anywhere with the guys I hang out with now. Particularly when ED deems it necessary that he give me dating advice and in particular, advice that involved me changing who I am.

Bite me, Ed.

No, really. Bite me.

And yet again, dear interwebs, I'm asking for your assistance. Because in order to create a profile I have to describe myself, something I've NEVER been good at doing because it's stupid and awkward and bahhh. Which is why I'm calling for your help. How would you describe me to someone else?

BUNNY HOP

"Please don't do the Bunny Hop at the office anymore."

"What? Why?"

"Because I was fixated. Why do you think I ran off to the other side of the room? I had to distract myself."

"... But I'm wearing a turtle neck!"

"IT STILL JIGGLES!"

SLEEPING ON IT

Today I spent a good hour at the Humane Society perusing the merchandise and playing with the beefcake I introduced you to yesterday. And yet, I remain dogless.

For now.

I promised myself I would sleep on it.

But the more I think about it, the more and more I'm totally digging his act. He doesn't walk well on a leash but I can teach him to heel. He (quite literally) bounces off the wall but I think he'll calm down some with a snipping (if you catch my drift), some good exercise to tire him out, and a bit of redirecting (lets say frisbee?). He doesn't bark much. In fact, the only time he barked was when I walked away from him the first time. He's willing to submit to me. He's absolutely freaking adorable. (Go ahead. Check him out again. I'll wait.)

And to make matters worse (?) I think I might have already named him. No, I won't tell you what. Not until I get him and officially name him, and no, dear interwebs, you don't get a vote. I mean, you can all go ahead and send me your suggestions. Especially Michael. Because I haven't heard from you in a while and your comments always make me gleefull.

Not that I need help with that right now because, interwebs, I'm getting a dog!!! Pardon me while I girl out on you all. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOGGYDOGGYDOGGYWOOF!!!!!!!!!!!

YUMMY DOGGIE TREATS

Tomorrow after work I'm going to the Warren County Humane Society to check out this guy:


Isn't he a beefcake?

IT DIDN'T BRUISE

"OW!"

"What'd you do?"

"I hit myself in the face with the shovel handle."

"That sucks."

"I think it might bruise."

"It's not gonna bruise."

"Well, if it does, I'm just going to tell people you hit me."

"Because that would be believable."

"I don't know that it's so far-fetched. I think the part they'd struggle with is your continued ability to feed yourself without the aid of a tube."

YOU PRESUME MUCH

We attempted sledding but neither of us had a sled.

Neither did Wal-mart.

"So what do you want to do now?"

"Um, we could dig out my car?"

So we dug out my car. After I pilfered two shovels from my neighbors. Without asking permissions. (Mostly because the shovels were RIGHT THERE and I couldn't find the owners to ask permission. Besides, it's a damn snow shovel.)

Also: I take him to all the nicest places.

"So what are we going to do now?"

"Well, I'm going to go home."

"But.. What? Why?! It's only SEVEN! You haven't even been inside my apartment yet."

"Here's why: The sun is down and now everything is going to freeze."

Um, yeah, okay. That's valid.

"And because I'm coming over tomorrow after work with a pizza and we're going to watch a crappy movie and then you are going to pay me back for shoveling out your damn car."

I'm assuming he means backrubs? Yeah, backrubs.

IT'S AN OPEN AND SHUT CASE REALLY

I have a dilemma, dear interwebs, a dilemma only you can solve.

Let us say that I have procured the assistance of two strapping young men.

Please allow me to direct your attention to Exhibit M:



And Exhibit W:



And let us say the assistance I require involves the picking up and the moving of a rather large, yet oh so stylish, dresser weighting roughly 150 lbs.

Which brings us now to Exhibit D:



And then let us say that there may be a single, solitary flight of stairs involved.

See: Exhibit S:



And now let us also say I have procured their assistance through bribery.

Exhibit B:



Exhibit P:



Now my question is: if a train leaves Dallas at 5:35 and travels at roughly 45 mph and a second train leaves Chicago at 7:02 and travels at 56 mph, exactly how much pizza am I required to feed these two?

"INNER" MONOLOGUE

My place of employment (known henceforth as POE) is making a video.

Don't ask me why.

A part of that video required as many people as possible from all departments to cram together in our atrium (with props!) and stare up at the camera.

Someone walked in with a fire ax.

My boss' boss: "Hey you guys with the fire ax, why don't you come up front here?"

Co-worker A: "Yes. Let's bring all of the weapons to the front."

Co-worker 2: "That thing ain't nothing but a glorified hoe."

Me: "You know, I've been called that before."

The situation deteriorated rapidly after that.

FRUSTRATED

Nothing, not a single goddamned thing went right today.

This made me feel better.

STILL UNPACKING

Oh, hi there lovely interwebs. I missed you what with being gone moving for a whole FOUR days. Why, I even SPRINTED out of the office today to meet up with the cute cable/interwebs guy. Who happened to be wearing bright blue booties.

So hush now, interwebs. Calm your crying. Mama's back and she won't be leaving you again anytime soon.

Except now because I need to finish unpacking. And maybe later when it's time to sleep. Or when I'm at work, though technicially I'm still on the interwebs BUT IT DOESN'T COUNT AS CHEATING IF I GET PAID AND PROMISE NOT TO LIKE IT.


Pictures to follow if I ever find my camera.

PREPAREDNESS

Guess who decided to make tuna noodle casserole tonight (mostly for the fact that it is quick and easy and will serve as 4-5 meals)?

And guess who was so prepared for this endeavor, she already went out and got all the groceries needed MONDAY?

Now guess who apparently already packed up her can opener?

And then had to go ask the asshole neighbors upstairs if she could borrow theirs?

And also seems to have packed away her oven mitts?



First one to answer all five questions correctly will receive a special treat (but not my tuna noodle casserole).


Ed. Note: And who also forgot to note what time she put said casserole in the oven.

And who also already packed away all her storage containers.

And the saran wrap.

SIGH.

MOVIN' ON UP

Today at 5 p.m. I got to see my new apartment for the FIRST. TIME. EVER. After waiting an ENTIRE. FREAKING. MONTH.

My coworker called me "trusting." I prefer the term "bat-shit insane."

It's working out for me so far.

Now, granted, for as perfect as this place looked on paper there were "issues". Actually only one issue and that was WHEN FOR THE LOVE OF FREAKING GOD AM I GOING TO GET TO MOVE INTO THIS DAMN PLACE ALREADY? Because, hi! New landlord? I know you were attempting to cater to me and attempting to make me happy and not, in fact, attempting to drive me the above mentioned "bat-shit insane," but really? All you managed to do was frustrate and infuriate me. Next time, I advise you to say "due to X, Y, and Z, I cannot guarantee your move-in date until March 1." And THEN, if plans change, you can SURPRISE me! And then I shall be wooed by your competence and people skills instead of forcing a smile during our often but brief interactions just to scream filthy obscenities at the phone the instant I hang up.

By the way, that last time... I was out of line. I mean truely. No one deserves to be called that even if it was behind your back. Also, my regards to your mother, whoever she may be.

But now, finally, I've seen the place. And now, finally, there is a set date for signing the paperwork. And now, finally, I'm moving in on March 1.

And then, FINALLY, I am getting my dog.

CUTE DOES NOT A LOVER MAKE... BUT IT COULD

Oh good god did I do something stupid at work today.

I walked into the copy room as is my wont and was startled to find a rather attractive man I didn't recognize standing there. I glanced around him to where my print should have been and he told me he was almost done.

I blushed (because I'm cool), smiled awkwardly, and booked it out of there to go inquire who the hell he was and why I hadn't been informed of his presents sooner.

My co-worker was covering phones and I reached her desk in time to glance back and stare as he walked out of the copy room, looking me full in my entirely non-smiling face.

Because I'm a charmer and know how to make the men swoon.

He slipped by and out the door, smilely shyly to my co-worker in silent thanks (she was on the phone). I managed to wait until the door had closed before wheeling on her and making the first stupid mistake I made that day.

I asked who he was.

"Oh, I know!" she gushed. "Isn't he a cutie?!"

That's when I did a second stupid thing.

I agreed.

"So who is he?"

"He's one of the police officers."

Oh.

"You know, I didn't see a wedding ring."

Oh no.

"I have a few contacts in the police department. I could find out for you if he's dating anyone."

Oh god no. "Um... that's alright. I'm sure if anything is meant to happen it will."

"I don't know," she teased. "He seems a little shy. He might need a push."

Shit. Shit. Shit. "Promise me you will do NOTHING about this."

She giggled.

F*ck.

"I promise," she sang averting her eyes and smiling to herself. "You should see how red your face is right now."

* * *

Now, it will probably come as a surprise to you, dear reader(s), that I? Am not smooth. Oh, not at all, because when I see a guy I find attractive, I don't smile and flirt and show anything that could even resemble interest. No, no. God forbid I do anything that might help my cause. I'd rather glower. And make the object of my desire think I hate them. With every fiber of my being.

So I began thinking as I spent 2.5 hours stuck in snowy traffic (because Ohio drivers SUCK ASS), what would be so wrong with her finding out a little background for me? What is it really going to hurt if it somehow gets back to him that a woman he's never met thinks he's cute and would like to play with his... gun?

Other than maybe the stalking ramifications.

BUT! If it does work out and she doesn't completely humiliate me and the stars and moons align... It could certainly be considered safe sex.

(Hah! Get it?! Because he's a cop? Heh... No? I'm sorry.)

BUILD ME SOMETHING

I'm impatient. And I have ideas. Ideas about what I want to do with my new apartment (should I ever get in it) and ever since grandma's more than generous donation to the cause, I actually have the money to back a lot of these ideas up.

One such idea, silly me, is a dresser. Because I'm tired of storing my unmentionables in a suitcase. Sooo last night I sent ALL night looking up dressers. And I'm here to tell you that dressers? They're expensive.

Ass expensive.

Now, I'm not saying that I would whore myself out for a finely crafted piece of walnut furniture with sleek, modern lines, finely polished nickel hardware, and stained a rich, deep espresso brown, but Norm Abram is starting to look damn sexy.

Meow.

YOU REALLY ARE. I WOULDN'T LIE TO YOU ABOUT SUCH THINGS.

"So are you really going to be spending most of your free time at my place once I move up here?"

"Yeah."

"Well, how many nights a week are we talking about here?"

"That depends. Are you going to have cable?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to have DVR?"

"No."

"What?! But it's only $14 a month!"

"Well, if you really want it, you can pay for it."

"... But it's $14 a month!"

"You're pathetic. You know that, right?"

BFFs 4EVA

The following email has been provided for your benefit and is in its entirety. No part of this email has been altered or removed (therefore is ENTIRELY in context.) No, I'm not kidding.

Below is a link for one of the DIY guides on my favorite website.

How to make your own burlesque pasties.

I'm sending it to you because they use the term "naughty bits" and it made me think of you.

How are things going?

dan

M.O.M.

Today my mother, sister, and I embarked on what was to be a monumental shopping trip.

We shopped from 12:30 until 9 p.m. We visited three separate Targets, all in the hopes of attaining some throw pillows, a dust ruffle, and some shams.

It was GLORIOUS.

And I've found out something very awesome. I spent... not very much money today (comparatively) and I got all this shit:

• A second cityscape painting to go with the one I got for Christmas.


• A tray to put on the ottoman I plan on getting later.


• A duvet.


• Pillow cases.


• A blue throw pillow for my bed.


• Lunch.


• Two blue throw pillows for the Patriot.


• A soap dish, tumbler and tissue box for the bathroom.


• New matching rings for the shower curtain.


• 400 thread count sheets.


• A brown and a kick-ass blue throw pillow to also go on my bed.


• Two brown throw pillows to go on the Patriot... which were promptly returned after I found two OTHER brown throw pillows I liked even better at the very next store.


• Dr. Scholl's shoe inserts.


• A blue throw pillow to match the original one we bought to go on my bed.


• Shams.


• A second duvet. (Which means the first one is getting returned at a later date.)


• A bed skirt.

You might be thinking how lucky I am to have gotten so very much for so very little. I would like to point out that these deep, deep discounts could be yours if you are the lucky holder of a M.O.M. card.

Mine just so happens to be platinum.

I THINK WE CAN ALL GUESS WHAT THE ROOT CAUSE MIGHT BE

Apparently I will take a personal snow day from work if there are two inches of snow on the ground topped with a thick crust of freezing rain (because God forbid we close the office for a Level 2 Snow Emergency), but will brave the elements, come hell or high water, if I deem it necessary to make a grocery run for chocolate.

Behold! My priorities!


Ed. Note: I didn't just buy chocolate. I also bought eggs with which to make breakfast for dinner. Because that's how I roll.

STABBING PANGS OF DISPLEASURE

The painter can't make it in this week.

I'm not moving until March 1.

I'm pissed.

R.I.P. CHAD

This morning I had the great fortune to walk into a most monumental clusterf*ck at work that did not end until I clocked out.

BUT! We shan't speak of that any more, what with news like this:

My beloved blue sofa has been discontinued.

R.I.P. Chad Sofa


7/2007 - 1/2008

I have found a second love.

Now, now. I know what you're thinking and it's true. I haven't had the proper time to grieve! It's too soon to move on! Are my affections really so fickle? And the answer is no. Not really. I still love Chad Sofa and regret that he wasn't able to become a permanent part of my life, but, the harsh, cold truth is I was in desperate need of a couch and the Patriot (which I am lacking a photo of) was willing to take on the challenge.

True, he's not as charismatic as Chad was, nor does he possess the same style or charm but he is safe. (And beige.) And safety and stability (and beige) can be good in a girl's life. Sure, we all want the bad boy, the wild child, the guy who refuses to conform to what society dictates.

Alas, sweet Chad. It wasn't meant to be.

We're picking up the Patriot on Saturday in three weeks. Then we're promptly getting him some blue throw pillows. And maybe a cozy brown ottoman.

BUT IF IT DISGUSTS YOU THAT MUCH...

Thank you.

No. No, really. Thank you.

Because, you see, I didn't realize that the tiniest sliver of my flesh was showing after I sat down because my chair? It pushed up the back of my shirt.

I just didn't notice.

But you, ever the observant one, decided that it couldn't possibly be that simple. No. Rather you felt the urge, were maybe even compelled, to tell me that I needed to go shopping so I could BUY. SOMETHING. THAT. FIT.

And now you may be surprised to find that I have the urge, or rather am compelled, to tell you to f*ck off.

LA INK

I want to do something that, while not rash, will probably annoy my parents and will certainly write me out of the will should my grandparents ever catch wind of it.

I want to get a tattoo.

Now, this little inkling isn't new. I've actually wanted one since I was 18 and at that point I decided I would force myself to wait five years and if, after the end of that time, I still wanted one, I would... give it more thought?

Obviously, the allotted amount of time has expired (see: current age - 18 = more than five). Obviously, I still want one (see: because I said I did up in the second paragraph). Obviously, I've had the time to give it more thought (see: my previous example of finite mathmatics). So, given those factors, wouldn't you expect my ass to be bedazzled with glittery butterflies and colorful flowers?

But therein lies (one of/the biggest) problem(s). I don't know what I would get. So last night, as a form of research and, more likely, a form of insomnia, I watched LA Ink, which did nothing to solve my problem, but rather magnified the yearning deep down in my bitter, black soul.

I have a fair grasp about why this urge has suddenly started again in such force and have come to realize there are currently several factors working against me.

1. The second most important reason I haven't yet permanently affixed some lucky guys name to my ass is because of the cost of getting a tattoo. But not only am I working now, I'm also moving soon and, as a result, I've been prepping myself to actually SPEND money, something that doesn't always happen with the utmost frequency. And now, without an immediate outlet, I'm stuck with it burning (oh god, the BURNING) a hole in my pocket.


2. I feel as though I need a little jump start to being a bit more reckless daring in my life because this boredom thing isn't cutting it. Particularly when my goals and dreams in life dictate I grow a f*cking pair and take a risk already.


3. I've always said I would get a tattoo if something happened in my life that I wanted to commemorate, and taking that risk... THAT might be something pretty cool to commemorate.


4. I watched LA Ink last night.

I'm not sure if this feeling will result in a picture of Roy splayed across my bicep or just fade away into the ether, but either way, I'd rather you not tell my parents. (Hi DAD!)

CONTRIBUTIONS WELCOME

Tonight I spent the majority of my evening packing up the things in my apartment that I really don't need, all in preparation for my now February 15 move because my mother is demanding and just COULD NOT wait until March 1 no matter what excuse I gave her to the contrary.

However, I am just as excited and it really was no effort what-so-ever to convince me.

In anticipation of this much awaited event, and in lue of my future monetary goals, a coworker took it upon herself this weekend to get me an early housewarming gift. It's a pottery jar. With "harley fund" painted across the side.

It is really stinking cute.

It is currently occupying the corner of my desk with all 23 pennies I could find in my desk. Plus the 7 nickles I coerced out of a coworker by decorating beneath the "harley fund" with a sticky note that says "contributions welcome".

This applies to you as well.

Get on it.

* * *

I've come to the conclusion that I really don't have that much stuff because I could easily pack everything I own and move it all in a single day. Probably even a half a day if I were really motivated. By myself.

This is not to disuade those of you I've bribed with beer out of helping me. Oh no. Because I still need your trucks and muscles, you buff, studly boys, you.

My, my you're looking svelt today.

Have you done something with your hair?

I love you.

TRUTH BE TOLD

Now, truth be told, I may have been rooting for the New York Giants to win the Super Bowl last night.

And, truth be told, I may have only been rooting for the New York Giants because Tiff is such a Pat's fan.

So, truth be told, I never EVER thought they had a chance in hell of winning.

HE'S LOOKING TO BE A KEPT MAN

"I thought of another career path for myself."

"Oh yeah?"

"Check this out. Ninja for hire."

"... Really?"

"Yes! Do you even realize how cool that would be? Do you have any idea?"

"Mmm. And who would pay you to be a ninja?"

"Hey. I'm bad ass. Someone out there is stupid enough to pay me to do that."

"No. They wouldn't. No one in their right mind would pay you for that."

"I didn't say they would be in their right mind. They would have to be very, very stupid. Don't you kill my dream! Gah! Are you happy now?! MY DREAM IS DEAD!!!"

YEAH, JOHN CENA!

Tonight was WWE's twenty-somthing Royal Rumble.

Oh, yes. It was.

And there may or may not have been a poll going. And I'm not saying it DID happen, but IF money exchanged hands, it was most certainly in my favor.

Let me tell you, the boys were THRILLED on my behalf.

"One of your children will have hooves because of this."

Pity I can't hear you when I'm rolling in all of this cash.

WHAT WOULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOU THINK I'M A NERD?

Today, with a mere five minutes slowly grinding away towards the end of my day, I picked up the dictionary off of my desk. And with that dictionary I looked up "insane" to see if a part of the definition truly did say "doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results." (It didn't.)(Don't ask.)

But then I got distracted. Then I started reading more entries and it became a game of sorts. I flipped to a random page and scanned the entries to see how many words I didn't know the definition of.

Five minutes later I put down the dictionary and that is when I realized that READING THE DICTIONARY was the most fulfilling and mentally stimulating thing I had done all day. Five whole minutes that was time better spent the previous seven hours and fifty-five minutes of my day.

And that makes me very sad in my pants.

THE DISTRACTION AT HIS FINEST

"Would you visit me?"

"What?"

"Would you visit me? You know, if you met me outside of an alien abductee convention and I told you I ran a reflexology booth out the back of my Winnebago?"

"I? Wha? NO! Not unless I wanted to be raped and pillaged before getting cut up into tiny, little pieces. Do you have ANY idea how creepy that is?!"

I FOUND THEM AT THE FOOT OF THE BED

This morning when I woke up I uttered a phrase usually reserved for after a night of drunken fraternal debauchery.

No, not "where am I?"

Not "who is he?"

But from betweenst my lips tumbled the ever-favorite: "Um? Where are my pants?"

I SWEAR I had on sweats when I went to bed. I'm just not entirely sure what happened to them between that time I rolled over and they started to fall off and this morning. (Not only that but it definately took me at LEAST a full minute to realize I was without an essential part of my sleepware.)

That and I'm fairly certain I was alone all night... which is awkward. I really need to stop molesting myself.

SMELLS HOMEY

Is it a bad omen if you accidentally spill chicken noodle soup on your rental application? Because if so, I am boned.


(Ed. Note: And not in the fun, aerobic sort of way, which, given the brain melting incident of today (more on that tomorrow if you're good), I could probably use. Actually, you know what? I could DEFINATELY use the effects of a good boinking without so much the hassle of finding a clean enough boy and then getting us both sloshed and then the subsequent pregnancy scare.)

SMALL PRICE TO PAY FOR THE BEST NIGHT OF HIS LIFE

"Ohh! Guess what Issac gave me?!"

"HERPES!!!"

((at which point the lady friend who was holding hands with him pulled away))

"... I... oh, wow. I should be giving you the finger right now but... I have to give you props."


* * *

"You guys should have told me your house was this cold. I would have brought my space heater."

"Except then we would have all been huddled around it."

"No, we wouldn't. It oscillates."

"That's pronounced osk-illates. There is a 'c' in there."

"... No, it isn't."

"Yeah, it's not."

"... Did you honestly think I would believe you?"

"I was hoping."

"This coming from a guy who gets an air-five from his roommate whenever he uses a big word."

"Hell, yeah!"


* * *

Rachel: "You should update your blog more often. I read it everyday! Sometimes, I even read it multiple times a day."

Me: "Yeah, I try to but nothing all that interesting has been going on recently."

Will: "You know, I read your blog, too."

Me: "Aww, really? Do you read it everyday?"

Will: "No way. Not everyday. That's just crazy."

NOT *EXACTLY* WHAT I WAS GOING FOR

So this afternoon I attempted to wax my eyebrows...

On second thought, I don't want to talk about it anymore.

DELIRIOUS RATIONALIZATIONS

This morning when I woke up, I decided to stay home from work for two reasons: the first being that I still don't feel well and if my body decided to void it's warrenty, I'd rather do it in my own bathroom, and the second being the amount of snow on top of my car and the thinly veiled rationalization that I'm sick and PROBABLY shouldn't be out in the cold. Plus the extra amount of time it would most certainly take me to get to work would make me late anyway and one of my die-hard philosophies in college was if I was going to be late for a class it wasn't worth going.

But they also didn't pay me to attend class.

So here I am, probably not sick enough to be home (she said as her tummy wobbled uncomfortably) but by god, I don't want to infect the masses so really, I'm being selfless here and sparing everyone else who didn't come into contact with me yesterday when I was probably just as, if not more so, infectious from the horrible limbo of the will I or won't I vomit.

And in the meantime I'm reading (about doggies), catching up on the sleep I lost Sunday night that made this little infection all the more able to exact it's revenge on my GI tract, and window shopping on the interwebs for my new apartment for crap I might not be able to afford because I AM MISSING WORK*.

Truly, I am throwing myself on a grenade here people.


*"Missing" as in NOT being physically present, not as in I'm sad I'm not there because, please.

I AM A BLOODY EFFING NEUROTIC

I have managed to so stress myself out that what feeble attempts my immune system has been making to hold back whatever it is that has lodged itself in my throat have failed. Miserably. And now it's reeking havoc on my intestinal tract.

So I'll be the one in bed chugging pepto like it is going out of style, praying that I don't throw up.

Yum.

WE MAY HAVE BEEN RASH

So I think we may have found a place. It's two bedrooms (I was only looking for one), heat and water paid, with a balcony, and true, it IS more expensive than what I want to spend BUT I can definately make up the difference in what I'll save in gas because it's a mile from work.

A mile. I can walk to work.

Also, it allows dogs. Big dogs. Up to 80 lbs dogs. Chewie might soon have a big, old mutt of a cousin (who shall henceforth be referred to as "Roy" (short for "Royal Pain in the Ass") until I get said dogget and decide on a right and true name).

But here is where we may have been rash. We told her we'd take it. We're mailing in a deposit to hold it. We haven't actually seen it.

I KNOW. Oh dear God, I know, and trust me, we saw some awful places today. But it's clean and neat on the outside (which we learned today isn't a real indicator of what the inside might look like but sometimes in life you just have to color outside the lines and take chances and did I mention the big doggie? Or the very simple fact that they allow a doggie at all? And have you SEEN the price of gas lately?!) and it's in a good neighborhood and the current tenants won't be out until the end of the month and then they'll have to clean and paint and clean some more and, and, and big doggie! Mile from work! (Possible) savings of monies!

And technically, at this point, we've only put $100 deposit down on the place.

God, I hope this works out.


(ALSO, we went window shopping for furniture after we decided on this place and Chad sofa? IS BEING DISCONTINUED. I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS. That last one left at the store damn well BETTER BE THERE IN A MONTH. And it damn well BETTER FIT UP MY STAIRS. That's all I got to say about that.)

(Ohh, I also found a new mattress I want because IT IS HEAVEN. There was also a clearance of this but because it was a floor model. I would like very much for that to continue to be available in a month as well.)

APARTMENT HUNTING SUCKS

"Can I make an appointment for Saturday to see one of your one or two bedroom apartments?"

"We don't show on Saturday."

"Um, it says right here you show by appointment on Saturdays."

"Maybe they just haven't changed it yet, but I been here since July and we never do that."

Okay, one: This is the most recent edition (as in January 2008) of a monthly apartment guide. Change your goddamn contact information.

And two: I am trying to throw MONEY at you. Nearly $500 this month with a signed agreement to do so for another eleven. Do you not think it would be well within your ability, not to say your interest, to cater to me JUST A LITTLE BIT? You should be kissing my ass at this point because there is PLENTY of time to dick me over AFTER I'VE SIGNED THE LEASE.

FOR WHAT (I'M) WORTH

I found an interesting article at work today just lying around where wandering and curious eyes could fall upon it.

It was about the salary the average IT person makes.

Now, keep in mind, I am no web developer (though, technicaaly, if I really hated myself enough, I could be). I am what you might call a web administrator. (Though let us not EVEN make a mockery of my current wages as a marketing coordinator by seeing what I should be making. Let us remember I do NOT hate myself that much.)

I found that my dear, sweet counterpart, the slave to web usability, the whore to domain names, the internet's bitch for all intents and purposes makes $57,823. ON THE LOW END OF THE SCALE.

And I? I am not making nearly that much.

Holy GOD. If I made the effort to learn the back end of this shit (which, while well within the scope of my ability, does not actually interest me) I could become a web master (or mistress but that just sounds dirty) and then I could OWN YOU!!! And I could own that motorcycle! And a nicer apartment! And a dog! And maybe even a summer house on the lake! (HAH! Not on $60K a year but I like my enthusiasm. (Which pretty accurately describes my work environment. Not a chance of attaining my dreams but LET'S MAINTAIN THAT SAME LEVEL OF ENTHUSIASM AS WHEN YOU STILL HAD A HOPE!)

Gah! I looked it up and I should be making $38K.

Sigh.

PLAYGROUND RULES APPLY

The Distraction has developed a rather annoying habit. To demonstrate just how annoying this habit is, let me tell you when this habit started.

It started SATURDAY.

And SATURDAY, when it started, it lead to me leaving the passenger door of his car wide open when I went to get into mine, an act he declared to be "just cold."

I maintain he deserved it.

You see, the Distraction? He's taken a liking to fluffing my hair. Particularly until I get annoyed enough to hit.

So imagine my surprise TODAY when he begins this habit anew. At work. Because he's mature. Except today, I was wearing a pony tail. Today, he yanked my perfectly coiffed hair OUT of a pony tail in jagged, whispy strands.

I was not amused.

I asked him how old he was. He said five.

I called him a bastard. He laughed.

I asked him if he was going to chase me around the playground and push me down into the dirt. He said he thought it was a good idea.

I reassert my long held belief that boys? They are dumb. So very, very dumb.

MOROSE TAG

TV Commercial: "1 in 3 men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer..."

Dave: "Not it!!"

THWARTED

"So we going to lunch today?"

"Can't. I have to get out of here at one."

"What? Why?"

"Because my mom was all upset they didn't do anything for my birthday so she announced my dad was taking me to lunch then they're both taking me out to dinner."

"I guess that screws up our plans then, huh?"

"Yeah, it does. But what about tomorrow?"

(Sigh) "What time?"

"After 4:30."

"Uhhh. Yeah. I can do it."

"Look, I'm sorry but you don't understand! She was almost crying! I had to cave."

"Wait. You mean she's guilting you into celebrating your own birthday?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, did you tell her we had plans?"

"I TRIED!! But then she went on and on about not getting to celebrate my sister's birthday because she isn't here and how my brother had to work on HIS birthday and then she said I was her baby and she just wanted to do something nice for her baby since I'm the only one still at home. She even made me a homemade cake with homemade icing and then was all 'but if you don't want it.' Gah! I know she spent a lot of time on it and everything. I really couldn't say no."

"Hehe. Okay, we can put it off until tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"So what is the excuse going to be tomorrow when you call and cancel?"

"Oh SHUT UP. Not you, too."

"Oh? Would it help if I cried?"

"Do it and, I swear to God, I'll kill you."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THE DISTRACTION

Today is the Distraction's birthday. He's 28, working two jobs, and living at home with his parents.

He prefers if you not mention it.

I was going to get him a gift certificate to Wendy's since he eats that crud most days. I ended up getting him a sweater which we wore today and look very dapper in. I also took him to lunch.

At Wendy's.

Because that is where he wanted to go.

Now you would think I got off light because... it's Wendy's. And cheap. Except our friend the Distraction eats enough chicken nuggets to feed a small battalion of pygmys, though you would never know it because of how tall, stringy, and lithe he is. Bastard. And tomorrow, as an EXTRA SPECIAL birthday treat, he's taking me apartment hunting.

Do I not give the BEST birthday gifts ever? Don't you just wish you could not date me, too?!

THE VOICE OF REASON GETS ALL OF THE BLAME

Last night was full of phone conversations like this:

"Huhh. I am so drunk."

"Where are you?"

"In the bathroom."

"Did you puke?"

"No, I don't want to puke."

"So why did you call me?"

"I thought you could be the voice of reason."

"Well, the voice of reason is telling you to puke."

Or this litte jem:

"How are you feeling now?"

"Gotta go. Gonna puke." CLICK

All of which lead to conversations like THIS this morning:

"Did you call me some time last night and I hung up on you because I had to puke?"

"Yeah, but that was after you called me the voice of reason and..."

"Wait. Wait. When did I do that?"

"You called me when you were in the bathroom and said I was the voice of reason and I told you to puke."

"Oh. Well then I blame all of this on you."