HAPPY CHRISTMAS

to we or not to we

ok, so i know it's really annoying when you're talking with a new guy and 2 minutes into the conversation, he is overwhelming you with "WE do this", "WE do that", "WE like that bar", "WE hate that restaurant", "WE might be breaking up", etc. if i'm just standing next to someone at the bar, making idle conversation while waiting for a drink, i don't need to know the details of his relationship. however, there are certain situations when "WEing" is not only appropriate, but would be considered a courtesy.

i was at a work event a few weeks ago and hit it off really well with the guy who had organized it. the whole time we were there we were talking, asking each other about work, college, hobbies, bars, friends, living situations, etc. he made some flirty comments and i, who am told by my friends that i wouldn't recognize that a guy is flirting with me if he threw me over his shoulder and dragged me to his cave, actually thought there might be a spark. we had a lot in common, he had a fun, sarcastic sense of humor, and he never mentioned that he was dating anyone. period.

so, after a long thanksgiving weekend away and much coaching and encouragement from my friends, i finally crafted an email to him the week after we met. i referenced the work event, said it was nice to meet him, and then threw in the invitation that if he was going to be at x bar (one we agreed was a favorite for both of us and happened to be in my neighborhood) anytime soon and wanted to grab a drink, to let me know. as my friend ann would say, i was being the hunter. pat, pat, pat on the back for me. i seldom make a move on a guy, especially one i've met in a work situation. in fact, i've never thought of anyone i worked with as anything but a peer or colleague. but, there was something about this guy and how we got along and the flirty crap he said that made me take a deep breath, hit send, and pray i wouldn't regret it.

that was the tuesday after thanksgiving. i checked my email somewhat obsessively everyday after, growing more and more certain that i had made a complete and total ass of myself and he would never respond. to my chagrin, i finally got an email back on tuesday this week. i opened the email, with my hand halfway over my eyes as if that would protect me from any impending rejection that awaited. the message was very nice, said that he had enjoyed meeting me as well and as much as he appreciated the invite for a drink, he's actually dating someone and he didn't think it would be appropriate.

auuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sweet jesus in heaven. why the fuck had i even bothered to go out on a limb and ask this guy to meet up for a drink?! ugh. i just wanted to shrink into a corner and beat my head against the wall. had i really misread the situation?! did i imagine that there was a flirtation? what the hell had i been thinking? the whole thing has made me seriously question my ability to adequately gage interest from the opposite sex.

but, here's the question - shouldn't he have "WE'd" at some point? shouldn't there have been some sort of "WE like to go to that bar" or "WE are going to my parents' house for thanksgiving" or "WE are so busy during the holidays" or something?? couldn't there have been some reference to the girlfriend during our 2 hour conversation?

i'm so annoyed. all i seem to run into lately are guys who are dating someone else and either fail to mention it, not really care that they are dating someone and hit on me anyway, or tell me they're dating someone but it's not working out. great. JUST what i need. there needs to be rules on "WEing". be considerate. please. "WE" when appropriate and save some poor girl the trauma of making a fool of herself.

humiliation a la email

i got an email forward from a friend the other day. before i describe the email and how i managed to completely humiliate myself, let me explain the dynamics of this particular friendship. this guy lives on the east coast and i met him when i was out visiting another friend a couple of years ago. we hit it off, hooked up, and have continued to keep in touch. he sent me flowers on my birthday, came to visit last march, and we still talk and flirt, but nothing will ever come of it. ok, that said, i got an email forward from him the other day.

as soon as i saw it, i immediately thought that it might be a good topic for my blog. the email was a forwarded link to a "crush calculator." now, coming from this guy, i was a little surprised to get this kind of email, but no matter. i clicked on the link and landed on a page that gushed about how the crush calculator could determine whether or not someone was your true love, soulmate, blah, blah, blah. i rubbed my palms together with wicked anticipation, ready to completely defy this asinine idea of simply putting your name and someone else's name in a weblink and hitting "go!" to find out who your true soulmate is. the possibilities for ripping this thing to shreds on my blog were endless. i cackled with an evil satisfaction of finding yet another dating mechanism to tear apart. (see previous rants regarding online dating, kizmeet, blind dates, picking up men at church, etc.)

i folllowed the simple instructions: your full name. check. the names of up to 3 "crushes." hmmm.... let's really make this thing wonder... we'll choose the gay friend, the boy who never called, and the ex. none of these would ever result in my eternal happiness (well, the gay friend could except for that whole sex thing), so i couldn't wait to see what the all-knowing oz of the crush calculator would say about these guys. i typed in the three names and clicked enter.

to my horror, a screen popped up and said something to the effect of, "the joke's on you! your name and the names of the people you entered have been sent to: (insert name of person who had forwarded email)" i almost died. not that it matters that my friend got those names back, but come on... when it's a "friend" you've hooked up with and still have a flirtation with, do you really want to send them the names of 3 guys you actually put into a crush calculator?!

so, tail between my legs, i sent my friend an email that was all, "ha ha, very funny! did you, um, actually get an email back? because you know i was just testing this thing out so i could make fun of it on my blog...." to which i get a response like "yeah, got the email back and you listed x,y, and z. suuuuuure you did it for the blog! of all the people i sent that to, you're the only one who did it. ha ha!"

christ. fuck. ugh. how embarrassing. but it really WAS for the blog! and now the friend thinks i have a) a secret crush on my gay friend, b) the pathetic hope that dude will still call and c) that i want to get back together with the ex. no bueno.

consolation dating

we've all been in this situation. you go out with a friend and you're sitting at the bar sipping (chugging) wine, having a serious conversation when two guys approach. they order shots and ask if you ladies would like to do one with them. never ones to turn down free alcohol, the two of you politely accept, shoot, and thank. they end up sitting down and spending the rest of the evening chatting (drinking) away with you both. great. except for the fact that one guy is really cute and the other is, well, not so much. cute guy inevitably likes your friend and you end up hanging out with the sidekick all night. which is totally fine. that's all in the friendship code of wingman behavior. but - and you know this moment is coming - eventually sidekick asks for your number, wants to take you out, etc. and what do you do?

i compare it to being given a consolation prize in a game or contest. the prize isn't something you want, it's not really something you'll use, but you can't trade it in for anything better. so, you take the prize, knowing that after this moment is over, you'll put it away and not really have any desire to see it again. that's not to say that the prize is grotesque, inappropriate, or mangy, it just isn't something that you can really find a use for.

so when it comes to consolation dating, what do you do? do you lie and say you're dating someone? do you give your number and then just avoid his calls until he gets the hint? (aka the same behavior the entire female population detests in men) do you just answer the phone and give him some lame excuse? (i.e. the not really dating right now, just got out of a relationship, not looking for anything, focusing on my career, i have 14 children with 6 different men thing?) do you politely explain that you were hammered, trying to be a good sport to help your friend snag the cute one, and you were really just being a bit of an attention whore and have no intention of actually going out with him? or do you go out with him once, just to see how it goes, even though you aren't interested? (and therefore waste a perfectly good evening trying not to look at your watch, formulating an excuse in your head as to why you need to go home early, and then breaking into a full-fledged sprint when your apartment building is in sight so that he can't walk you to the door and try to lick your face)

is this my lot in life - consolation dating? spending the rest of my years giving out my number to guys i'm not interested in, hoping they won't call? doesn't that negate the entire purpose of the dating game? if i'm never going to win the grand prize, i think i'll just quit. i don't need a consolation prize, thank you very much.

i blog therefore i am....

lately i've had some serious blogger block and haven't come up with the best ideas about which to write. (see past posts about spoiled yogurt and stomach flu) so today, i racked my brain trying to come up with something funny/witty/relatable/endearing/touching/that doesn't completely suck ass to write about. here were my options:

- procrastination

self: too late. adam beat us to it and wrote about his own procrastination habits.

- drinking/hangovers

self: can we write about something new, please god?

- disappointing men and totally misreading situations where a guy seems interested but clearly isn't after you tell him you'd like to meet him for a drink and he doesn't respond

self: again, can we please write about something new?!

- the holidays

self: everyone is sick of the holidays already

- avoiding the gym

self: um, you and everyone else. be original. jeez.

- the book i just finished that had me sobbing like a baby

self: wow. cheerful. no.

- how annoyed i'll be if my back-to-back episodes of felicity aren't on AGAIN this saturday morning. ugh.

self: you have a very unhealthy obsession with this felicity person who, by the way, doesn't actually exist.

- perusing the strange oddities that certain online stores have in their sex toy department, causing me to giggle like a 12-year-old while secretly wondering if i can justify spending $80 for a device that could quite possibly make me happier than any man has so far.

self: waaaaaay too much information. no one needs to know about that.

- my stupid mail carrier who likes to just throw the mail for all 7 units in my building on top of the mailbox rather than sorting and putting the mail in the correct boxes.

self: god. are you that bitter about having nothing in your box? hee hee.


so, as you can see, i've got nothin. nothing exciting, no weird happenings, absolutely no good insight on men, no earthshattering news to report.

maybe i'll get accosted by a homeless person, splashed with muddy water by a passing bus, hit on a gorgeous guy only to be introduced to his equally gorgeous boyfriend, go to work and realize there are panties static-clinged to the back of my sweater, or give myself food poisoning with my own cooking. until then, i guess i'll just have to be normal and uneventful. how boring.

self: sounds like peace on earth to me.

the real thanksgiving story

fast, not feast

tender turkey. homemade mashed potatoes and gravy. perfectly seasoned stuffing. cheesy delicious asparagus casserole. sweet curried fruit. flaky rolls. cranberry sauce. chardonnay. pumpkin pie. bailey's and coffee.

and the stomach flu the night before and day of thanksgiving. i guess i'm thankful for leftovers and a virus that only lasts 24 hours.

ever do something stupid like this?

i just spent the last 5 minutes eating a container of yogurt that i'm pretty sure was spoiled. after the first bite tasted a bit funky, did i throw it away? no, of course not. i continued to take small bites, making what i'm sure were the most god-awful faces, and trying my hardest to figure out what exactly was off about the flavor. i smelled it, had my colleague smell it, and then continued to eat it because, really, does yogurt ever have a rotten smell? it's all bacteria anyway. halfway through the container i thought i should maybe dig the foil label out of my trash and check out the expiration date. remembering i had actually opened the yogurt and thrown away the label in the kitchen (all the way down that loooong hallway far, far from my desk), i decided it wouldn't matter anyway. i had already eaten half of it and it wasn't that bad and it seemed so borderline that i couldn't throw it away. i continued to eat the yogurt, all the while wondering why it tasted so odd. when my spoon scraped the bottom in donned on me that i may end up with some weird bacterial infection due to yogurt poisoning. i bolted for the kitchen for a bottle of water. like water is going to wash away the sour yogurt bacteria that is now attacking my digestive system, but maybe it will speed up the process at the very least. so here i am - waiting to keel over from food poisoning because my yogurt went off and i was stupid enough to eat the entire thing to figure out if it had, in fact, expired. dumb. dumb. dumb. and disgusting.

kizmet or kizmeet?

well, i guess this was inevitable. reading the red eye on the train the other day, i ran across something about this new website called kizmeet where people can post a missed encounter with someone whom they hope to track down and reconnect with. it is available in several cities and even has the encounters sorted by links for bars, gyms, grocery stores, coffee places, and other venues.

so, you were too chickenshit to walk up to that hottie getting the venti skim no-foam extra hot roomy latte in front of you at starbucks yesterday? post it on kizmeet!

realize when you were yelling your phone number to the guy at the bar that he may not have actually gotten it right and now you wish you had written it down or entered it in his cell phone yourself? he can find you through kizmeet!

think you'll never see that cutie from the bus last week? kizmeet has the answer!

remember the guy you danced with at the concert that seemed to be into you but left after the show before you got a chance to talk to him? kizmeet can help!

didn't have the courage to smile at the guy who was watching you select the perfect cucumber at the grocery store? kizmeet gives you a second chance!

seriously, this is what lance bass needed in "on the line" (aka the worst movie ever made) to find his hottie from the el. this website may completely change all of those regrets we have from missed opportunities. instead of brooding over the one who got away, that person who you made eye contact with at the gas station and were sure he or she was your soulmate, only to have your hopes and thus your entire future shattered when he/she drove away, you can now track that person down and rekindle the flame.

you never know - maybe we'll start seeing dr. phil promoting this like he does match.com. maybe eventually kizmeet will become one stop shopping for finding anyone and everyone you've ever thought you might like to talk to but didn't. maybe we won't even have to talk to anyone new face to face anymore. instead, we can just observe people at the bars, movies, concerts, grocery store, starbucks, etc., take notes about them, and then post on kizmeet to make the connection. much safer than actually having the balls to speak to them or ask for a number from the beginning. no, it's easier to post a comment, hope they check kizmeet, too, and then respond accordingly. no embarrassing scenes in front of friends where you get blown off in person, no need to spend money buying him/her a drink, no wasting of the memory in your cell phone from getting his/her number.

in theory, this is a great idea to help people put themselves back out there after letting someone slip by. i just have to wonder if we're making things too convenient. we can date from the comfort of our living rooms, sitting on the couch with our laptops and wireless connections to foster the effort. we can chat online, exchange emails, and text message without ever having to hear a human voice. and now we can sit back and see someone out, knowing we don't have to make an effort to talk to him/her because we can essentially tivo the encounter to be finished at a later time via kizmeet.

now if you'll excuse me, i have to go make a post about the guy from the snow patrol concert. and the guy on the train monday. oh, and i can't forget carflirt guy. heeeelllloooo kizmeet.

Make a Difference - VOTE!

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has."- Margaret Mead

my day...putt...

- woke up late this morning

- car stereo did fun little thing where it likes to turn off and on by itself....the ENTIRE way to work

- car also decided that on a 27 degree morning with snow flurries, i did not need heat...just lots of cold air blowing from the vents

- coffee cup leaked all over me while drinking coffee at my desk

- lunch consisted of special k that i had to eat with a fork due to the absence of spoons in the kitchen

- had a VIP from our national office tell me to call her back when my office didn't sound like a "zoo" due to co-worker singing a carrie underwood song at top of her lungs in background. how professional.

- was subjected to hearing the obese woman in the bathroom stall next to me grunting like a wild boar as she did her business.

- administrative assistant was too busy to help with a project. i walked by her desk and saw why - she was playing solitare on her computer.

- got a call from our bookkeeper downtown. i sent her my unsigned, and therefore unacceptable, expense report.

- broke a nail.

- no internet at home.

needless to say, i can't wait to hang out with friends tonight, have some yummy thai food, drink wine and watch grey's anatomy. this day has worn me out.

cess pool or dating pool?

overheard from the table of guys next to me in a bar on sunday while having drinks with the girls and watching some football:

"dude, my trick is to watch "the notebook" with a girl. if you watch that movie with her, you're definitely going to fuck her after."

(i bet he even throws in a few tears for good measure)

"oh my god - jason was so drunk he shit his pants and then wiped it on the carpet. that girl he brought home with him didn't know WHAT to do. i wasn't gonna try to help her out of that situation!"

(of course not, you jackass. you'd rather see her suffer through human feces than offer to let her sleep on the couch or tell your friend to clean his ass up.)

"i mean, that girl was alright. she had a normal body and stuff. but the size of her ass! did you SEE the size of her ass?! ugh - it was huge!"

(guess what fuckwad - normal girls tend to not be built like men - straight up and down. we have CURVES. go back to junior high if you want a twiglet girl)

"man, i don't take them home the day after. they should know that they're just there for the night. she can find her own way home."

(just. plain. rude.)

simply wanted to share a shining example of what's left out there in the dating world. coupled people, be glad you're not out here in the wild anymore. i give up.

white trash wedding (bless their hearts)

i attended a wedding last weekend in good ol' southern indiana. the place was nice, the bride & her attendants were gorgeous, the groom and his boys were all spiffed up, the music was elegant, the parents were proud, and the thing went off without a hitch.

in typical wedding fashion, the reception followed and the wine and beer flowed endlessly. not long after the reception had begun, the dj announced that it was time to introduce the parents, the wedding party and the newlyweds. as the bride and groom took their places to be introduced after everyone else, the opening to the song "welcome to the jungle" filled the room and everyone looked around in disbelief/surprise/amusement. how fitting that they walk in to their first official event as man and wife to a guns & roses song. i almost peed my pants laughing.

would the highlight of the evening be this - them walking in as axl rose screamed "you're in the jungle baby!!"? or would it be when they danced their first dance to the firehouse song "love of a lifetime"?(in typical indiana fashion, this couple has been together since 6th grade, so a firehouse song was actually appropriate) maybe it would be the moment the best man decided to forgo a traditional toast to tell a story about the groom getting so wasted the night before the wedding that he went to sleep with a pb & j sandwich under his pillow. or possibly, it was darting looks at the groom's mom to make sure she wasn't about to burst out in a pain-pill induced rage and make a huge scene. could it have been the moment when the perpetual townie that took 10 years to finish high school and still spends his free time cruising our tiny little town in his beat up ride showed up for the party? it certainly wasn't the conversations i had with 2 high school exes that still look great and are now married to tall, gorgeous twiglets, i know that much.

no, i think my favorite part of the night was visiting the bar and seeing the basket there that held the bride and groom's choice of wedding favors for their guests. most couples choose candy, picture frames, candles, mix cds, etc. not this time. i reached over and took one of the favors out of the basket. lo and behold, it was a camo beer coozie and printed on one side, in fine wedding-esque script, "to have and to hold and to keep your beer cold." on the back was the date along with the names of the bride and groom. what a redneck and yet perfect thing to give to the attendees. quite possibly the most useful wedding favor i have ever received. given the guestlist, the only gift that could remotely compare to the usefulness of the camo coozie would have been individual dip cups.

oh - apparently a fight broke out soon after my sis and i departed from the festivities. god bless the traditional southern indiana wedding. you're in the jungle, baby.

the yay list

ok, so i realize that i've blogged ad nauseum about the things that piss me off and annoy me. examples include, but certainly are not limited to: men, grocery carts, men, bird shit, men, parking tickets, men, pigeons and the people who feed them, men, bad drivers, men, bratty children, and of course, men.

so, i thought it might be nice to make a list of things/people, etc. that actually make me happy. (i'm not letting self help with this post, as she really has no input on the subject of happiness.)

here we go....

- my niece. anything and everything related to this gorgeous child.
- the fact that trader joe's has mistakenly mispriced the family size bottle of my favorite affordable wine for months now, thus costing me only $6.99 per huge bottle
- my first sip of coffee in the morning
- the crisp breeze that comes with summer changing to fall
- ryan adams "gold"
- a perfectly mixed cosmopolitan
- the way andy roddick's shirt flies up constantly when he hits his forehand
- my fantastic friends and family. i would die without them.
- decorating for christmas
- falling asleep to the sound of rain
- first kisses
- finding the perfect pair of shoes on sale
- tennis, tennis, tennis
- driving into chicago on lake shore drive on a sunny day with the windows down
- wentworth miller. no explanation needed. mmmmm.
- getting to work in 45 minutes
- sitting at starbucks, reading the papers and drinking coffee for hours
- really good sushi
- finding money in the pocket of a jacket i haven't worn in months
- felicity re-runs every saturday morning
- knowing what i do for a living makes a difference
- french manicures
- friday nights in - bubble baths, candles and wine
- fitting into my skinny jeans
- playing hooky
- my neighbors taking my trash out for me
- long weekends
- a parking spot right in front of my apartment
- my mom's cinnamon toast
- going to movies by myself
- finding something mundane so amusing i laugh til i cry
- the smell of fresh laundry
- singing at the top of my lungs in my car
- hooded sweatshirts
- working from home in my pjs
- walking through my neighborhood and loving where i live

i could probably go on, but i won't. i think everyone needs a reason to stop and think about the things that make us happy, so please feel free to comment with something of your own. for anyone who may be concerned about the state of my mental health right now - no this is not a new, zen-like me, it just happens to be 10 am and nothing has actually pissed me off yet today.

(self is thrashing like a wild beast right now, wanting to go on a rant about why each and every one of the things listed above has the potential to disappoint, but i put the muzzle on her)

hooking up with the ex...

is it a win-win situation or a colossal mistake? let us weigh some pros and cons...

pro: you know how it will be. it will be good. been there, done that, really liked it.

con: it may stir up annoying fond memories.

pro: you will take out on each other any remaining frustration, resentment, and sexual tension that is left over from the relationship and the break-up. this always makes the hook up so much hotter.

con: "awkward" is a vast understatement to describe the situation once the deed is done.

pro: you can leave right after and not feel a bit guilty going home to your own comfy bed.

con: he may get re-attached. (yeah, right, but i had to list it as a real possibility)

pro: won't add to your numbers.

con: you may get re-attached.

pro: at least you can get some action while you're looking for someone who is actually datable.

con: if he finds a datable person first and is the one to end the hook-up, you might feel rejected all over again.

pro: it's just sex - you can take control and make the rules. guys are much more apt to cooperate when it's just a booty call, not a relationship where you have emotional expectations, right?

con: your friends will yell at you for it and worry that you're going to get hurt again.

pro: it's convenient and fun. and, for the love of god, will end that miserable dry spell.

so, the question is - if you know this ex is not someone you would ever, ever date again, but the chemistry is definitely still there, is it acceptable to use him for a hook-up? is it that easy? or is it better to leave well enough alone?

the keeping kind

i'm not the keeping kind. all of my past relationships point to this theory. guys start talking to me, seem to like me, then decide i'm not good enough to spend the time and energy on to date seriously. they may want to be my "friend" after getting to know me or think that maybe we should still just hook up, but dating me is no longer a feasible option.

why am i revisiting this self-degrading realization? let me enlighten you. as i was perusing the newest pictures of my adorable niece on my sister & brother-in-law's website, i ran across it. the first picture i have seen of brother bob's grecian delight. you all probably remember my tortured description of the night i sat with brother-in-law's parents and discussed his brother's upcoming wedding. awkward is a vast understatement to describe how i felt that night, talking about wedding plans of a man i had "dated." ugh. so, knowing full well that he's been engaged for a while now, i simply hoped to never have to see a picture of his future wife. (impossible, i know, but i was hoping) that hope was shattered when i innocently ran across this image on the website tonight - brother bob & grecian delight, sitting together happily, her holding my niece on her lap, with a glimmer of the rock that now adorns her left ring finger showing just enough to make me want to spray bleach in my eyes and render myself blind.

i sat, mouth gaping, studying her and wishing to any and every god known to man that i could find something even remotely trollish about her. no. of course not. she's a little, tan, dark haired beauty. again, please hand me the bleach. i think i actually started to talk to self and couldn't find words to express my self loathing at that very moment. instead i poured a gargantuan glass of wine and stared out the window for a while, thinking the whole time that this shouldn't bother me so much. but it does. i know they're getting married. i know they'll probably have kids that will play with my sister's kids. i realize that he never even thinks about me anymore. and that's fine. but it makes me feel like shit because it just reminds me that i wasn't good enough to be where she is right now and i'm all alone.

please allow me to make an important clarification - this is not about HIM. it's not about HER. this is about ME and how i'm never the one that guys want to stick with. i'm the fun in-between girl - a springboard, if you will. i help pass the time while they heal from their most recent break-up and decide they are ready to move on...without me. i like to drink and watch sports, so i end up being more of a "friend" than a girlfriend. i don't make guys think about settling down, i uncover their commitment phobia. i don't inspire a guy to take me home to meet his parents, i inspire him to take me to a bar. they want me for a night, but not for the future. they like me, but they don't fall for me. i'm not even in the top 5 in their list of priorities. they're focusing on their careers, they're not ready for a relationship because of their past, they don't think they can give me what i deserve in a relationship, blah, blah, blah. i've heard it all and it's all bullshit. i'm just not the keeping kind. i'm not who they see when they think of their lives 2, 6, 12 months down the road. i'm expendable. disposable. forgettable.

please pardon the pathetic wallowing in self-pity that is going on in this post. i hope to be back to my usual bitter and witty self soon. thanks for wallowing with me.

story of my life...

you snooze, you lose

let me just preface this by saying i am not a morning person. i like to stay up late and sleep in. the sound of my alarm clock sparks a feeling of hatred i can only compare in intensity to the fires of the 7th level of hell. i am not perky, nice or energetic before 11 am. that said, i seem to have a lot of crappy, weird things (granted, many of these are self-induced) happen to me in the morning.

spilling coffee on myself - at least weekly. oversleeping - constantly, thus causing me to jump out of bed cursing like a sailor and run around like a chicken with its head cut off getting ready. gas light in my car - always on when i'm in a hurry. traffic - no matter what time, where i'm going, or how the weather is, it will always be horrible. forgetting cell phone and having to go back to get it - yes. forgetting computer and having to go back to get it - of course. stepping in gum - you know it. having a bird shit on me - um, yeah. not kidding - walking out to my car on friday morning, i had a bird drop a load on my crisp, white dress shirt. auuuggghhh.

but this morning, i had a brand new encounter. walking out of my apartment, i had a sinking feeling as i headed to my car. i realized i had parked on a side street where street cleaning was to begin at 9 am. naturally, as it was well past 9 am, i muttered a string of every curse word known to man, and resigned myself to the inevitable fact that i would have a ticket glaring from its evil orange envelope on the windshield of my car. as i approached the side street, i observed a strange thing happening. people were darting out of their houses like little mice, with keys in hand, to move their cars. and that's when i saw it. the parking police. one single woman in a plastic flourescent vest now had the power to either save or completely ruin my day. and she was heading straight for my car. i broke into a flat-out run, shreiking at the top of my lungs, "wait!! wait please!!! that's my car!! don't give me a ticket!! waaaaiiiittttt!!!!"

lucky for me, she turned around to see where the racket was coming from. what a horrifying, yet amusing thing she observed - a woman in dress clothes & 3-inch heels, with bag, purse and computer flapping violently, coffee spewing from a travel mug, hair flying, hands waving wildly, running directly at her screaming like a banshee. this poor woman couldn't have looked more disturbed and confused if a flock of seagulls had swooped down upon her and tried to nest in her hair. once i was closer, she gave me the girl-you-should-know-better-than-to-park-your-damn-car-here-during-street-cleaning-like-those-other-fools-i-just-ticketed look and said, with no amusement what so ever, "well, looks like it's your lucky day." i was still thanking her profusely, between panting and gasping for air after my marathon half-block sprint, when she just shook her head and moved along to the next car.

i got in my car, said a quick prayer of thanks to the parking gods, realized i was sweating (of course) in the 55 degree weather and wondered.....does this count for my cardio today? hmmm....

the new object of my obsession

i haven't had a crush this serious since 6th grade when i pledged my undying and eternal love for little joe mcintyre, the falsetto pre-teen and youngest member of that hit band new kids on the block. dear god, it's humiliating to blog about this even though it is years later. it took me a long time to get over the devastation of that crush and realize that famous people don't date girls that live in small indiana towns. oh, the torture. i vowed never to love a star the way i had loved joe and let the crush crumple and fade, along with the 300 posters of him that had temporarily replaced my wallpaper during that period of time.

still, knowing that star crushes are completely, utterly ridiculous and pointless, i'm behaving lately like a 12-year-old with the latest edition of teen beat. i salivate over the man pictured above. for those of you who are not familiar with this perfect specimen, let me introduce you. wentworth miller, aka my future soulmate. mmmmmmm. not kidding - there is a very unhealthy obsession brewing here... if anyone knows his manager, he or she may want to go ahead and get that restraining order....

september 11

i'm sitting here, looking out the window and thinking the gray skies and rain are appropriate for today. today is a day of mourning. today is a day of remembrance. today is a day to honor those we have lost. september 11 has been all of these things for many people for the past 5 years. for my family and me, september 11 has been all of these things for the past 18 years. on this day, 18 years ago, i lost my youngest sister to cancer at the age of only 7.

that day is ingrained in my memory and always will be. it was a sunday - grandparents' day, in fact. my grandparents came to get my sister and me and to take us to clifty falls park for the morning. i remember thinking that it was odd and spur of the moment and it wasn't a fun trip. i remember thinking we were trying to waste time somehow. and i knew that it was the last day i would see my little sister. i was right. my parents couldn't bear for us to be there during those final hours and looking back, i understand why.

these years that have followed seem to have flown by but that doesn't make it any easier when i think of that day. she should still be here. she had her whole life ahead of her. it makes me sad, angry, and frustrated almost to the point of screaming to think about how unfair it is. however, amber never would have wanted her memory to be the cause of these sorts of emotions. she would prefer i remember our trip to disney world, she and amity eating mashed potatoes with their faces like little piglets, her dressing up as a princess and standing out on the hill in front of our house, waving to the cars going by as though she was waving to members of her court. she would want me to remember how we used to make up skits and perform for her when she was confined to her hospital bed at home and how i used to be the one to hold her hand every time she had to have her bandage changed. she would want me to laugh thinking back to all of the christmas mornings, the halloweens, the family get-togethers and how much fun we had. she wanted to be an artist and a ballerina. i have no doubt she could have accomplished both. she would have grown up to be a lovely, friendly, talented person with a big heart and a great sense of humor. it never ceased to amaze me how she always had a joke or a funny saying, no matter how sick she was or how crappy she was feeling.

so, i choose to think about her and focus on the good times. i will never understand why this happened to her, to our family, and i will never be able to fully believe in a god that could let this happen to a 7 year old girl. i do believe i have become the person i am because of her and what she went through. working for an organization that is trying to cure cancer reminds me every single day of her and why this fight is so important.

i'm sitting here, looking out the window and am glad the rain is still coming down. it matches the tears i have been fighting back and shedding with abandon all day long. this is a difficult day and i know i, along with my family, will alternate between crying and smiling as we keep her in our thoughts today. millions of others will be keeping the memory of their loved ones in their hearts and minds today, as well. may we all find peace and joy in those memories.

so cute i could die

i know, i know - looks just like her fabulous aunt! :)

blah.

i'm not feeling witty or fun today at all. i'm having a hard time finding the humor in the stupid things that happen to me, which i usually do quite well, i think. i'm not having a day where i'm glad to be single. i don't feel attractive even in the least bit. why so blue, you ask? i don't know. part of it is probably the fact that i've had the last 5 days off and now having to go back to work tomorrow i feel like a kid on sunday night at the end of spring break week. drinking myself stupid throughout the weekend is probably taking its toll as well. i've been tired and lazy all day and, as a result, now feel equivalent to the size of jabba the hut. that said, i had a great time this weekend. but i'm doing what i always do - getting down because i'm not happy with myself, feeling sad because i don't have a guy around, wishing i had actually gotten off the couch today and done something productive. whatever. i have to make some changes. i guess that means i need a list. dear god. here we go...

1) stop drinking so much
2) go to the gym!!
3) buy groceries instead of eating out all the time
4) be more proactive & productive at work
5) go to bed earlier & get up earlier
6) make a budget & stick with it
7) look for a 2nd job
8) get new brakes on my car and get the door fixed
9) sign up for that art class i've been talking about
10) stop complaining about men and accept the fact that i will be single indefinitely

i think that's a pretty good start. if i can manage to accomplish these things i will be saving money because i'm not drinking that much, driving to work in my safe car, working tons of productive hours between 2 jobs, going to bed early after eating a healthy dinner, getting up early to go to the gym, and squeezing in an art class once a week. whew. looks like i won't even have time to worry about being single and lonely.

brain cells - a dying breed

no, it's not a scientific study, but i have pretty infallible proof that i have killed a vast amount of brain cells. thinking about some of the things i've done over the past few days, i realize that brain cells are not that resilient, nor are they prone to quick regeneration.

10 things my brain failed me in doing....

1) put used q-tips back in the cabinet. i know - gross. luckily i realized it as soon as i closed the cabinet door.

2) spent a good 15 minutes walking around my neighborhood yesterday morning looking for where i parked my car monday night. my decision to drive home after monday night drinking was quite possibly the worst decision i've made since the last time i chose to perm my hair.

3) ran around looking for sunglasses that were perched peacefully on top of my head.

4) put coffee creamer back in the microwave after pouring coffee this morning. because refrigerated items should always be kept in a heating device, right?

5) almost walked out of my office without my shoes yesterday. not kidding. packed up my stuff, was walking away from my desk and realized i was barefoot. wow.

6) took a wrong turn on the way to work. a wrong turn toward the place where i have worked for OVER TWO YEARS now.

7) mailed an empty envelope to wells fargo. the check for my car payment will follow shortly.

8) lost my driver's license in the depths of my dirty car for days and had to use my passport as my main form of identification.

9) set my alarm clock for 6:30 p.m. instead of a.m.

10) made a pot of coffee without actually adding coffee to the filter basket. imagine my surprise and dismay when i got out of the shower to find a nice pot of hot water ready and waiting.

oh, and i'm sure i've stepped in gum along the way. that's just the norm.

monday night drinking....

i had 2 immediate thoughts this morning when i woke up. before i was even fully awake or even had opened my eyes, actually. thought #1 - i'm going to see the dresden dolls in october!! kick ass!! thought #2 - i made out with elevator guy in the back corner of the bar last night. oh. my. dear. god. shitfuck. said thoughts were followed by some evil person whacking me in the head with a meat cleaver. oh wait, that was just the beer and wine from last night paying their final respects and leaving me with the most excruciating headache ever. seriously, had my head split open and vast amounts of white wine come pouring out, i wouldn't have been surprised.

ok, so, yes. apparently, i'm that skank who makes out with a guy at a bar. ugh. this is what happens when i get no lovin for extended periods of time. i drink too much, decide "eh, he'll do" and proceed to make out. in public. i kind of want to die. so here's the story - 2 guys at the bar last night approached amanda and i and ended up sitting with us in our booth. they work in sales for some elevator company. i don't know. nor do i care. anywho, after a while, dude next to me is like, "hey, come back here for a sec. i want to talk to you..." translation: come to the back corner of the bar where no one can see and i'm going to grope you. so, we walk back there and here's kinda how i remember things....

(after a bit of kissy stuff)
kiss, kiss, grope, grope, smacking hands away, grope, grope

me: ok, you're gonna need to stop. now.

dude: sorry, sorry. i just couldn't help it.

me: (rolling eyes) whatever. i don't even like making out in public, much less being totally groped for the world to see.

self: you tell him girl. he couldn't help it? lame ass.

dude: but no one can see us, it's fine

me: no, it's not fine. we are in a BAR. a BAR is a public place. and, you shouldn't still be trying to grope me.

dude: ok, sorry. can i get your number?

self: no! no! no! do not give him our number!

me: (inner comment to self: don't worry - you'll like this) fine. i'll give you my number if you can tell me my name.

dude: uhhhh.....

me: that's what i thought

self: you are such a bitch! i love it!

dude: wait! it starts with an A!

me: yeah, well, there are lots of names that begin with A. that's not gonna cut it.

dude: amy? no? ok, umm... angelina?

me: do i look like a fucking angelina? clearly you're just not trying.

self: tee hee hee! this is fun.

dude: april? angela? amanda?

me: getting closer. at least you guessed my friend's name. how about this - the first 3 letters are A-N-D

dude: (loooonnngggg pause during which you can almost see his drunk little brain cells struggling) andrea?

me: good job. i'm still not giving you my number.

dude: well, do you know what my name is? i bet you don't!

me: der. your name is bob.

dude: no it's not!

me: it is now.

self: i'm enjoying your drunkenness tonight. keep going.

dude: my name isn't bob!

me: fine, i'll call you otis.

self: hee hee. after the elevator company that he doesn't even work for. nice.

dude: (rolling eyes) can we just make out some more?

me: sorry otis. you kinda ruined the moment with all that groping earlier. i'm going to the restroom and then my friend and i need to go home.

self: oooh snap!

dude: (sighing) fine. you sure i can't just get your number?

me: (walking away with falsely apologetic smile) should have paid more attention and remembered my name.

the moral of the story - boys are DUMB. oh, and don't make out at a bar - it's tacky. i have to go hide my head in shame and take more advil now. damn alcohol.

the single vitruvian woman

most people (thanks, i'm sure, in large part to dan brown and the popularity of "the da vinci code") know of leondardo da vinci's drawing of the vitruvian man. the vitruvian man, based on the theories of the architect vetruvius and brought to the masses by da vinci, illustrates how the measurements of the human body are distributed by nature in many aspects. for example, elbow to wrist equals the length of your foot, from the roots of the hair to the bottom of the chin is 1/10 of you height, and the length of your armspan is equal to your height. don't believe me? go ahead and measure. i'll wait.

ok, done? great. da vinci is pretty right on with the vitruvian man and the measurements that correspond to height and other body parts. but, why is it that sometimes those theories of measurement by nature don't pan out? i have complained and joked on several occassions about my freakishly long arms. (trust me, even the lady at the gap told me they were strangely long for my body) so, i put leonardo's theory to the test. i am just about 5'3", though i like to say i'm at least 5'4" - because that really makes a difference, right? when i measured my armspan, i found, to no surprise, that it was nearly 5'6" in length, thus violating the theory that armspan equals height. shit. i got robbed!

what i think is this - i've so adapted to the single life, that my arms have also gone through the adaptation process. like creatures in the wild that evolve and change to adapt to their surroundings and environment, i have gained a good 3 inches of armspan. how does this relate to being single? let me enlighten you.

a) i can reach and effectively scratch every single, solitary spot on my back. i can do this with no pain, no weird twisting motions, no rubbing my back against walls or objects. it's cake.

b) with approximately 1 1/2 inches of extra arm length on each upper appendage, i'm just able to reach many things on shelves and in cabinets that i would need a step stool to get to had my arms been the correct length for my height.

c) i can zip, button, snap and tie any piece of clothing with a back closure. no need for anyone to help in that department. in turn, i can also remove said clothing with the greatest of ease.

d) i used to be able to hug myself and grasp my fingers behind my back. very comforting when you're sad and have no boyfriend to comfort you. unfortunately, this little trick has gone away temporarily because i seem to be getting fatter and now cannot get my fingers to touch, though it's close. i'd like to blame it on my large breasts getting in the way, but we all know what a lie that would be.

i could probably name more advantages, but you get my point. i don't need a guy around to scratch my back, tie a garment, unzip a dress, reach for the laundry detergent, or even hug me. nature has allowed me to adapt to my single environment and do these things for myself.

so, i wonder - what other adaptations will emerge over the upcoming years of singledom? will i get a pet and teach it to open beer bottles for me? will the brain cells that facilitate my longing for someone to curl up with on the couch or invite out to dinner start to dry up and die? will my emotions just start to drain out of my body, only to be replaced by a need for solitude and insignificant one night stands? maybe my need for companionship will be completely filled by self. *shudder*

adaptation of a species? the new vitruvian woman? you tell me....

fish-n-flush? what?

seriously? "a whimsical potty that turns your toilet into a nautical wonderland" can be yours for a mere $450! christ.

carflirt 101

anyone who has spent an exhausting amount of time in his or her car knows exactly what i'm talking about. for those of you who may not, let me briefly explain the concept of carflirt (not that you can't figure it out from the title, but indulge me). driving along, you spot a hottie and proceed to make it over to his lane. if he is paying attention and takes notice of you, too, then a lot of passing and switching lanes will often take place, accompanied by lots of cool looks, some sideways glances and a few flirty smiles. it's just a fun way to pass the time when you are crawling on the interstate with no hope of getting home in a reasonable amount of time.

ok, so my favorite carflirt guy, whom i refer to as "unmarried hottie in the yellow jeep", is a guy i used to see quite often on the days when i would actually leave the office around 5:30. over the past few months, have not seen him at all, due basically to the fact that i avoid my commute like the plague and work from home whenever possible. but, in the last couple of weeks, i've now seen him twice - once when leaving the office around 5:30 (his usual commute time) and then again yesterday. yesterday was odd because i didn't leave work til 6:30, so imagine my surprise when i saw him drive up next to me and then cut me off. (totally NO need for that - traffic was actually light and moving well) i was sure it was fate. finally, the gods of love were smiling down on me, rewarding my years of single misery with my carflirt hottie. happy day!

carflirting continued for the duration of my travels on 94, with hottie looking constantly in his mirrors and even looking over and smiling at me at one point when i had to change lanes to go to my exit. got to my exit and thought he was probably gone forever. woe is me! but, i was wrong! he also took the exit and ended up next to me. he looked over a couple of times, kind of smiling, and then did a quick look again and completely started hanging back, almost as if avoiding driving next to me. he stayed a few car lengths back after that, leaving me wondering what happened. we turned opposite ways at the same intersection and the moment was gone.

i was still pondering this situation when i parked and got out of my car. i was just thinking that it was weird that he was totally playing along with the carflirt game until we were back in the city and he was right next to me. not that i expected to get a date out of this whole thing, but it was weird the way he suddenly backed off. as i opened my back door to grab my bag and computer i gasped in horror. sitting innocuously in my backseat is an infant carseat. the carseat, of course, is not actually mine, but purchased for my sister's upcoming visit with my niece, who will be a whopping 6 months old by then. do i think he saw it? yes. do i want to go hunt him down and tell him i really don't have a child? yes.

first rule of carflirt: remove all baby paraphernalia from automobile if you wish to flirt properly. seeing a carseat in your vehicle will send them driving in the opposite direction.

so over a year of playing car flirt and yesterday marked a day i was sure would go down in commuter karma as the drive of good fortune for me, but to no avail. i'm seriously thinking that next time i see him on the road i should "accidentally" rear-end him. probably wouldn't do any damage to his jeep wrangler, and whatever damage i do to my own car would be a sacrifice in the interest of my future happiness. i mean, clearly, he and i are meant to be together! (yes, that's sarcasm) still, it would make for an awfully good story when people ask us how we met....

DIY cellulite treatment

say bye-bye to cottage cheese ass and high-priced cellulite-reducing scrubs and lotions. for those of you who brew your own coffee, you're in for a treat. rumor has it that rubbing used coffee grounds on your wobbly bits will help reduce the appearance of cellulite. i guess i know what i'm doing after my morning coffee tomorrow...

my own personal sandwich artist.... don't lie - you're so jealous

ok, but you so won't be jealous once you hear my story. many of you already know about a certain subway employee who tortures me with questions about my single status every single, god-forsaken time i visit the franchise in my neighborhood. i had avoided this particular location for this very reason for at least the past 6 months until the other day hunger pains and laziness got the better of me. here is how the coversation went: (please note: all of self's comments were contained to the recesses of my mind and not unleashed on said sandwich artist in the interest of humanity... well, that and i didn't want him to spit in my food)

(walking into subway and cringing at the sight of my subway guy - a tiny little indian man with an annoyingly cheery demeanor and memory like a fucking elephant)

subway guy: oh! long time no see!!!

self: oh goodie. cleary, our 6 month hiatus has not dimmed his memory one single bit. fabulous.

me: um, hi. 6 inch chicken teriyaki on wheat please.

subway guy: toasted, ok? you like your subs toasted!

self: good god. we got our sub toasted one time. ONE! what a psycho.

me: no toasted. it's fine the way it is. trust me.

subway guy: ahhh. i don't see a ring on your finger yet!! (with jovial nodding and laughter, as if we are both in on the same sick joke)

self: jump over the counter and hit him. i command you!!!

me: (to self: shut the hell up) no, no ring. i'm fine being single, remember? (with big, fake, don't-make-me-kill-you smile)

subway guy: no one likes being single! you want to get married!!! all the girls just want to get married!! you have boyfriend??

self: for the love of god, just say yes, you have a boyfriend. or lie and tell him you're a lesbian and see what kind of reaction that gets!!

me: no, no husband, no boyfriend. just me. and i'm fine with that. really. it's cool. i don't really have any desire to be tied down.

self: why are you telling subway guy this?! you don't owe him an explanation!!

subway guy(shaking head in disbelief and pity): don't worry. you will find someone. what would you like on your sub? cheese?

me: yes, provolone please. and then just lettuce, tomato and banana peppers. none of that sweet onion sauce. (insert gagging noise) and for the record, i'm not worried about finding someone. i am FINE on my own.

subway guy: no sweet onion sauce? you sure??? it's gooooood. (after seeing my look of disgust) ok, ok, no sauce. you are ok on your own. but you would be better with a husband. someone to take care of you.

self: get out now. just go. otherwise i might jump over the counter and hurt him.

me: (through gritted teeth) look, i get enough questions about why i'm single from lots of other people. i just want to come in here and get my sub and not worry about why i'm not married, ok?!

subway guy: ok. just worried about such a pretty girl with no one to take care of her.

self: christ. let's just pay and get out of here. i can't take this.

me: (smiling sweetly, trying to kill sandwich artist with kindness) right. thanks. how much?

subway guy: you want chips and drink?

me: just chips. i have water.

subway guy: but with drink it is a better deal...

me: fine, whatever. chips, drink, hook me up.

subway guy: ok, today, for you total is 6 million dollars and some change!

self: (rolling eyes) seriously....

me: here's a $20. i hope that covers it. (not amused)

subway guy: ah! your change is 13 million dollars!!

me: aces. i wish i HAD 13 million. and all i get is a sub. huh.

subway guy: ha ha! if you had 13 million dollars, you wouldn't need husband!! (continues laughing as though this is the most hilarious thing he has ever heard)

self: go to hell!!! tell him i said that!! tell him now!!

me: great. thanks. tell your wife i said hi. oops! my mistake - you don't have one!! have a fabulous day.

self: fucker.

subway guy: ha ha! good one! next time you come in, you have ring!!

self: clearly, we will NEVER be visiting this fine establishment again.

me: clearly.

Lollapalooza guidelines

there are 2 things that were clearly left off the list of prohibited items at lollapalooza. among the list of no-nos are weapons, alcohol, chairs, fireworks and explosives, large chains or spiked jewelry, and pets, along with a few other items. what they forgot to include on this list are the following:

NO CHILDREN
bringing kids to the rockfest that is lollapalooza is like taking your grandparents to bourbon street for mardi gras. come on, use some common sense. i know they tried to make lolla a bit more kid-friendly this year, designating one area for kid crap and activities, but what parent really wants to spend their day there, when there is a plethora of fantastic music being played all around them? get a friggin babysitter, people. i mean, if you really want to take your older kids and be the coolest parents in town, that's fine. please don't bring your 3 year old and expect her to sit quietly during Panic! at the Disco or Ryan Adams.

case in point: as my friends and i enjoyed the musical stylings of Jack White as lead man for the The Raconteurs, we were distracted by a child in front of us who, clearly, did not have any interest in jack or his music. her mother kept stuffing the child's earplugs back in her ears and tried to get the kid to go to daddy. daddy, who looked like he hadn't changed his look since the last time he left his trailer park in 1985, didn't really have much interest in placating his daughter. rather, he preferred to put on a stunning display of air guitar for the majority of the show. so, the kid cried, mom ended up sitting on the ground trying to keep her entertained, thus pretty much defeating the purpose of being there. i felt very sorry for the kid throughout most of the show until, that is, she looked right at me, picked her nose, and proceeded to eat what she found up there. fucking gross. take your kids home and don't come back unless you have a sitter or they are old enough to use a kleenex and appreciate the music.

NO KISSY-LICKY-DRUNKY COUPLES
i wouldn't consider Deathcab for Cutie to be a band that inspires people to make out in a mob of concert-goers, but what do i know? packed in like sardines for the final show of day 1, my friend and i witnessed one of the most annoying and pathetic public displays of affection ever. already having been shoved aside, stepped on, and groped as people pushed past us during the show, the icing on the cake was to have a couple of very tall people shove right in front of me and begin making out. stuck together as they were, and both being around 6 feet tall, my 5'3" self couldn't see shit except for the spectacle unfolding before me. it wasn't just a little peck or a drunken kiss, it was a full on licking, kissing, groping extravaganza. they blocked my view of the stage, the big screen, and caused me to stare at them in disbelief, wondering if i could just kick them and make them both fall down so at least they could make out on the ground and be out of my line of vision. they were completely wasted and falling all over the people around us as they kept going at it. finally, thank god, they relocated to annoy and piss off other Deathcab fans.

if you get to a point where you're drunk and out in public with a person you find attractive, please at least find a dark corner somewhere to make out. don't push into a crowd of people focused on the music being played and then ruin their concert experience by licking every orifice in sight of the person you're with. just go find a port-a-potty and have sex, for the love of god! i don't care what you do, just don't do it in front of me. take it somewhere else. maybe you should go visit the kiddie area. if that doesn't cure you of your desire to do your boyfriend or girlfriend in public, nothing will.

Friendly reminders:
- to all of the sweaty groupies: if your hair is drenched in sweat, please do not headbang to every single song a band plays during their allotted time. you are essentially behaving like a wet dog and the people around you are completely grossed out.

- to all of the hot men preferring to walk around shirtless: keep up the good work. you are contributing to the beauty of the festival.

amen sister!

"Only promise me one thing--

Don't take me home until I'm drunk...

Until I'm very drunk, indeed."

Holly Golightly

"Breakfast At Tiffany's"

beer, sweat, and chewing gum

tonight i went out to a neighborhood festival with my fabulous friend and her wonderful bf. good bands, lots of drinks, fun times. however, because i ALWAYS have to find something to complain about, here i am.

first off, i sweat entirely too much. like, more than any average female. yes, it was super hot tonight and really humid, but as i was looking around, drenched with sweat, i saw that all of the other girls around me looked like they were barely bothered by the heat. a few had some slight perspiration around their temples, but none of them compared to me. my hair was practically soaked on the underside because it had been sticking to my sweaty neck. my forehead and upper lip were constantly perspiring. ga-ross. i felt like i should come home to my air-conditioned hole and stay here til october. how is it that i sweat in such an abnormal and disturbing manner?!! ick. yuck. and, to make matters worse, there were lots of cute guys there. one in particular was standing near me, actually right next to me at one point, and never even so much as glanced in my direction. i felt invisible. miss celophane strikes again. as if to prove my point, i nearly got knocked down several times, like i wasn't even there. the icing on the cake was when the band decided to play an old school song by the group mr. big. as i looked around while the band belted out the words, "i'm the one who wants to be with you. deep inside i hope you feel it - you feel it!! - too," i noticed just how many couples i was near as they all put their arms around each other, hugged, kissed and swayed to this declaration of eternal love. puke. but, i admit i was jealous. so, in response, i chugged my beer. and sweated some more.

we finally decided to leave and stopped by subway to grab food. after that, i took the train home and my friends decided to cab it. as i was sitting on the train, thinking about my night and my gross sweating problem, i looked down at my feet. i may as well have gone barefoot tonight. my feet were NASTY. black streaks emerged from my flip flops onto my toes and sides of my feet. my nail polish had been chipped. both feet were sticky from beer being spilled on them repeatedly as drunk people pushed their way past me into the crowd. but, by far the most disgusting thing to happen to me tonight, was realizing that there was something stuck to the top of my right foot. i reached down to wipe it off and found - to my horror - that it was chewing gum. nasty, dirty, blackened chewing gum from some stranger's mouth. again, puke. the worst part was probably the fact that i tried to brush it off with my hand and got it stuck to my palm. here i sat, on the train, trying to wipe someone else's wad of discarded gum off my foot and hand. eewwwww. yeah, i felt gross. i got some pretty disgusted looks from the girls sitting by me, but whatever. i briefly thought about launching my subway sandwich at them, just for spite, but thought twice when i realized that would result in no dinner.

all in all, i really did have a great time. i'm just reminded of my loneliness when i go out and see all of these couples, all of these skinny, pretty, non-sweaty girls, hot boys, and i'm by myself. that's not to say that i'm not physically there with friends, that's not what i mean. i mean, i'm not going home with anyone at the end of the night, i'm not there talking to guys and meeting new prospects. i'm the yucky girl chugging her beer, getting pushed aside, and ending up with chewing gum stuck to her foot. i saw myself in the mirror when i got home and i can't blame the guys out there - i looked really bad and i wouldn't have thought twice about me either. ugh.

blogger etiquette and cowbells

i need input from readers and fellow bloggers about 2 things:

1) i've been reading several blogs linked on my friends' sites. there are a few i would like to comment on. i know that commenting on a really popular one, like waiterrant, which often gets over 100 comments per post wouldn't be a big deal, but what about commenting on someone's blog who you don't know when they may have only a couple of comments posted? is that weird? or rude or something? i'm just curious since i'm pretty new to this whole blogging thing.

2) what the hell does the phrase "more cowbell" mean?! i've seen this on shirts, typically worn by guys, for ever and have never known what it means. am i missing something? am i showing my age by being ignorant about what all the kids are saying these days? please help me before this stupid phrase drives me crazy!

ode to the assholes of the road

to the bitch in the mini cooper:

yes, i'm talking to you - the woman who almost hit me while trying to merge into my lane on irving park, the one who tried to drive around me on the shoulder of the road (blocked you, didn't i?! ha!!), the idiot who almost caused 6 wrecks (yes, i counted) in getting to the entrance ramp to the expressway. why is it you feel so special that you think it's ok to bypass an entire line of cars waiting to get on that ramp? did it make your day better to cut off everyone? were we all just in your way, princess? well, guess what. you're no better or any more entitled to the road than any of us frustrated, angry, road-raging, commuters who drive this everyday. here's a reality check for you - you are NOT charlize theron and the morning commute is certainly NOT the italian job. i recommend you get in line with everyone else before some nice hummer decides to turn your cute little mini into an accordian.

sincerely,
daily commuter and petitioner to get your dumb ass off the road


to the nasty bastard picking his nose in the cadillac:

do you think your car has some kind of special bat shield quality that keeps other drivers from seeing into your automobile when you're inside? because, guess what. it sure doesn't. you could not have grossed me out more during what is already a miserable commute. i almost got sideswiped and rearended by bitch in the mini, finally get into my lane and am crawling in traffic with everyone else, only to look over and see you digging for gold in your left nostril. i'm telling you, stop now or you're going to hit brain matter. i've never seen a finger so far up one's nose. fyi - if you blow your nose before you leave the house, odds are you won't need to pick it the entire way to work. if this is your hobby for passing the time while you drive, then please, please, take up something - anything! - else. i don't care if you shoot up while sitting in the parking lot known as the kennedy. that would be better than witnessing what i did this morning. i was trapped next to you for what seemed to be an eternity and i simply cannot convey how utterly disgusting you are.

sincerely,
thoroughly disgusted fellow driver and anti-nosepicking-in-public advocate


to the hottie in the jeep that i accidentally cut off:

i'm an asshole. but, if you would like to discuss this over drinks, i'd be happy to buy the first round. next time i see you on the road, i'll toss you my business card. kisses!

love,
cute girl in the focus :)

the stuff exchange

it is common knowledge that every break-up goes through stages before the split actually occurs. these steps are neither pleasant nor easy, with the primary ones being a) the downhill slope the relationship slides upon as the impending break-up looms in the distance, b) the rollercoaster of arguing, making up, and arguing more, the rapid-fire rounds of mean and hateful words, the hollow, sad feelings that follow, the anger that builds as the relationship declines into an unsalvageable mess and c) the break-up itself, which is an entity that embodies its own cycle of emotional warfare, separate from the steps leading up to the main event.

we all know this. after the first few failures in our puppy love teen years, we learn that this is just the normal phase a relationship goes through as it is dying. much like a patient with a terminal illness, once the disease takes hold, the person/relationship is poisoned and the end is in sight. sometimes the end comes at a quick and relatively painless speed, sometimes the decline and decay are dragged out for what may seem to be a painful and certainly, emotionally exhausting eternity. regardless of the speed or the emotional impact, what leads up to the break-up is a well-practiced routine that all of us in our mid 20s and older have rehearsed - ad nauseum, no doubt - for years now. we know from experience that life will go on and we will feel better, even if it's only because we cried 6 times today instead of 7. we also know that someone else will sweep us off our feet, no matter how much we've hated on and sworn off men over pints of ben & jerry's and uncountable bottles of wine.

that said, i still don't think anything fully prepares you for certain situations in the aftermath of a break-up, one in particular being what i call "the stuff exchange." after the break-up, we will gather our friends for a heavy drinking and binge-eating session and pick apart the guy who just broke our heart, scrutinizing every little detail of the relationship and making a laundry list of all of his faults ranging from his obvious aversion to commitment and lack of good judgment in choosing a mate to his annoying habit of scraping his fork on his dinner plate and the fact that he is socially inept and doesn't even own wine glasses. we will detail his downfalls until he is nothing more than an ape with a couple of business suits and a strange ability to - sometimes - communicate with the human population. at this point, he is clearly not a suitable person to date or ever waste another sad sigh or tear on again. he has been exiled from the land of datable men and as long as we can keep believing that we actually did him a favor by dating him in the first place and gracing him with our class and intelligence, we will be fine. unfortunately, we will see him eventually and that laundry list will fall apart, maybe not totally, but at least somewhat, and he will become a human again and you will know that he's back out there in the dating pool. ugh.

i don't make this statement because i truly believe we will all have the misfortune of just randomly running into the ex. i say this because there is one step in the aftermath that can't be avoided and requires at least some form of communication with the ex. it is what i mentioned earlier - the stuff exchange. now, there are several ways to go about this, i know. you could be really vindictive (which i totally approve of, especially if said ex was hideously mean or the break-up was extremely nasty) and just throw away his shit. slash it, burn it, donate it to charity - done and done. that's only an option, though, if he doesn't have any of your stuff. if he does, better put down the torch, or you're never seeing that pair of sandals or your favorite tank top again. so, where does that leave us? options 2 & 3 - mail it all back or have a friend do your dirty work and make the exchange for you. again, with mail, you run the risk of not having your stuff returned to you once he has his. if he has nothing of yours and the price of postage outweighs the price of your soul to have to endure a meeting with him, then, by all means, a visit to the USPS will save your sanity. if you send a friend, make sure you coach this person on how to behave when the exchange takes place. if you do not send a clear message to your friend about things you do/do not want said or done, she may just take it upon herself to scratch his eyes out and spit in the empty sockets as payback for hurting you. again, if that is the path you choose, so be it. however, if you would like to avoid you and your friend doing a little jail time for assault, i recommend a game plan ahead of time. sure, your friend can be empowered to make snide, catty comments - we're women after all and much better with words than any Y chromosome - but you may want to have a few guidelines or groundrules, that's all.

but, should none of the above options work for you, there is the face-to-face exchange. the most difficult by far, but also maybe the most satisfying. admit it - no matter how nasty the break-up or how evil the ex, you don't want the last mental image he has of you to be the one of you sobbing/sniffling/yelling/pleading/reasoning/insulting/blaming as he probably saw you during the break-up, whether it occured in person or on the phone. no, you want one more chance to show up, composed and looking hot, and retrieve your things while returning his in a very adult, civil, i'm-so-much-better-than-you-or-anyone-you'll-ever-date-again kind of way. contrived as it may be, this is your chance to show him exactly what he's missing and walk away just knowing that he's going to regret being such a fuck-up for the rest of his life. la, la, la...

until you get there. so, you've talked to him briefly, decided the when and where of the exchange. you're driving to his place and your stomach is in a knot. you suddenly wish you would be involved in a serious car accident just to avoid this hell you've set up for yourself. but, as you park the car and gather his shit out of your backseat, you take a deep breath and tell yourself this is FINALLY it, FINALLY the real end. and you try to be relieved at that, which you won't be right now, but keep telling yourself that, for your own sanity. he lets you in and, as you take the elevator up to his apartment - good god! how long does it take to get up to the 5th floor?! for-fucking-ever?!! - you reapply lipgloss, give your hair a toss and paste on a pleasant smile that probably looks a little more like a scowl or a grimace, but you do your best. walking to his door, you consider putting his stuff down outside of it, knocking and running back for the elevator, but you don't. you look fabulous, after all, and he needs to see it.

he answers the door and you go in. somewhere in the recesses of your mind you're hearing either warning bells or tribal drums, both of which warn of certain doom. at this point the meeting can go many, many ways. you exchange quick and get out, you sit and talk and have a trip down memory lane possibly followed by one more goodbye shag, you start rehashing everything and have yet another argument... the possibilities are endless. in my most recent experience it went like this:

tribal drums in full force, banging away in the back of my brain. walk into apartment and stand awkwardly at counter, he offers a drink, i take water. we chat about recent vacations and seem to relax a tiny bit. he asks if i want to sit down. ok, fine. we sit in the living room, talking about nothing really. and the weirdness of the sitation strikes me - i've sat in that exact same spot on his couch several times, but usually he would be next to me, sometimes laying down with his head in my lap, me running my fingers through his hair. he's watching baseball, of course, which only reminds me more of past evenings hanging out with him there. weird as it is to see it all in retrospect, it doesn't make me yearn for those times. i relax a little and sip my water, fervently wishing i had the power of jesus to turn it into wine. i stay for a while and as we talk, the conversation eases us both and soon we're chatting like old friends. still no desire to touch him or get him back. i also realize that i'm not angry or resentful (ok, maybe a little, but not in the life consuming way i assumed i would be). i also realize that he was nervous when i first got there. seeing him relaxed and chatting away now, i compare his behavior to when i first walked in 15 minutes before and giggle to self that i find it very satisfying that he was really nervous to see me. i do a mental tally mark for me and self. he tells me i look great. another tally mark. i do not return the compliment, i just say thanks and shrug, like "Duh, i always look this good!" i am calm, cool and collected. not wanting to stay long, i finish my water and get up to leave. stuff exchange - check. having him see me looking good - check. me behaving in my most charming manner - check. him being sorry he ruined it all - well, that i may never know, but i'd like to think so.

i go to the front door and he offers to walk me out. "no need," i say. he gives me a big hug and tells me it was good to see me. this time i tell him it was good to see him, too, and i'm not lying. the hug, which i worried might spark some kind of feeling, was completely harmless and felt like little more than hugging a good friend. he says to give him a call or email and i say he can do the same. he says we should get together sometime, which i'm sure he probably doesn't mean, so i play along and agree, both of us knowing it won't happen. i walk out the door and he lingers for just a moment, watching me go. i refuse to look back. i hear his door shut softly as i turn the corner for the elevator. once inside and heading back down, i let go of a breath i wasn't even aware i was holding. as i get in my car, i almost expect to get upset and teary, but i don't. i drive home in complete silence, thinking only that it's finally over. this is the closure to my closure, if that makes any sense at all. whew. and now i can actually go on.

so, you see, the break up is not the end. i consider the stuff exchange to be the true end. after the break up has happened and you've had time to settle, you both test yourselves by seeing each other one more time, under the guise of giving back each other's belongings. it's the ultimate test of whether you are truly over the ex, at least at this stage of post-break-up. it is a necessary evil, this exchange, but if you are able to make it out without crying, hoping to get back together, fighting, or doing bodily harm to him, you're well on your way to being single and happy. if not, call a friend and stop on the way home for some ice cream and wine - it's time to make the laundry list again.

did i deserve this?!

seriously, this could only happen to me. not kidding. so, i have had the most miserable cold for the past 4 days. miserable to the point that i had not even left my house since friday around 5:30 pm (yes, it is now monday and i was a tad worried that i was starting to develop rickets from lack of sunlight). lying on the couch in my pjs, blowing my nose, sneezing, coughing, wheezing, eyes watering, pale, having to sleep partially sitting up because i was so congested. you get my point. anyway, i finally decided this evening that i would venture out and get something for dinner. not wanting to walk far in the 100 degree heat index, i decided that the italian place that is pretty much across the street would do just fine. i ordered my cheese ravioli and waited the suggested 15 minutes before leaving to pick it up. in preparing to leave my house i threw on jeans, t-shirt and flip flops. my hair was slicked back in the same unwashed pony it had been in for the entire weekend. my face was completely make-up free (scary!), my puffy eyes standing out on my pale face with the trademark allergic shiners i tend to get when i'm sick. sucking on a cough drop, i left the apartment and promptly started sweating as soon as i was 3 steps into my walk down the street.

i crossed the street and headed in the direction of the italian place. literally, the entire walk, round trip, may take me 5-6 minutes. as i was stepping up onto the curb in front of the little strip that houses the restaurant i hear someone say my name. i look up quickly and am standing approximately 6 inches away from jha. now, as some of you may know, jha is a guy i know who lives in my neighborhood who i kind of hooked up with recently. he's really cute, fun, etc., but i hadn't seen him for a while. we had tried to get together before i left for london, but the plans didn't work out and so it's been a few weeks since he and i have hung out. and here he was, in the flesh. and there i was, wishing so much that i could be miss cellophane when i really needed to be. i'm telling you - there are things that have gotten caught in a drain that are much more attractive than i was this evening. we made small talk for about 30 seconds, me still looking like shit - and sweaty shit at that - and sucking on my cough drop. he was nice and gave me a hug and told me to give him a call so we could hang out. i just wanted to die. really.

i walk around this neighborhood ALL THE TIME. i am fully aware that he lives nearby and the possibility of me running into him is actually quite good. that said, has this ever happened? no. of course not. not when i'm all dressed up, either going to or coming home from work. not when i'm looking cute for going out. not when i'm looking sporty and carrying my tennis racquet down to the courts at the park. not even when i'm dressed all casual, but with makeup on at least, heading to starbucks for a morning of coffee and newspapers. no. this had to happen when i've had so much snot running down my face for the past few days that the skin around my nose is red and crusty. when my eyes are swollen and i look like i've spent the entire day crying. when i haven't bothered to wash my hair because, really, all i've done is be one with the couch. did i brush my teeth today? yes, of course i did. and if not, at least i had the cough drop. how gross and sickly could i possibly look?! ick. yuck. ewwwwww.

think we'll hook up again? um, i'm guessing not.