a few men... i left out the adjective "good" for a reason

holy moly! it has been a long time. i apologize to my two whole followers.
let me fill you in.
my dear, sweet online match, Ripped, is still in the picture. although he is not sweet. he is a bad boy. we go together like oil and water. it's been a little over three months. we've done it about 5 times. that is not enough for me.

enter Prep. boy #2 who is clean cut, has a good job and is all set in life. he's adored me for about a year now, from afar, but has always been on the prowl, i feel like. he wants to do it all the time. i'm talking once every 45 minutes. this, i like and can get used to.

i dont know what it is that is giving Ripped the upperhand. he doesn't communicate with me, can't handle his liquor and never formally invites me to do anything. it's like i am supposed to assume that tonight is a good night to sit around and watch tv or that yes, i should meet him at the bar downtown. i don't get it!

it's the challenge i like. the challenge i crave.

i enjoy the company of both. i enjoy the attention. but this is a small town and my double lifestyle may be revealed soon.

i keep hoping one of them will do something really awful to weed himself out. this plan has worked for me the entirety of my dating life. but it's been about a month of back-and-forth.

ripped vs prep

the saga continues

no laughing matter

you know what you don't tell someone on April Fools Day?
you dont text her at 8:30 a.m. and say:
'my ex wife wants me to take the kids for good.'

no, no, no you don't.

this message came from Ripped. things have been going casually well since our first meeting a month ago. but just recently, i sort of got into him.

we texts me all day long at work. all night long when i am at home and all weekend long when i am in detroit. so, we have a pretty great thumb-to-thumb relationship. so this message caught me way off guard.

i thought:
holy crap... here we go again. another baby's daddy. i'll be packing up my things and leaving now. thanks for all of the free drinks.

but... it turned out to be an April Fools joke. something that jolts you is not funny. i told him that thumb-to-thumb.
as i was trying to explain to him why this may bother me, i thought, wow, Ripped doesn't know my history. he really never asked. what the eff?? dont you want to know about me?? or are you one of those selfish dudes?

either way. not a funny joke. now a rubber snake on my toilet seat is funny. kids? not funny.

sexting

people say it like it's a dirty word.
we've all done it.
come on...
you know you have.
i love it! find the right person and it can get you hot under the collar. sext with a a first-timer and it can be entertaining.

on my phone, i have... pictures of penises. pictures of hands on penises. pictures of arounsed penises and pictures of soft penises. (why i would find that sexy, is beyond me.)
i have graphic texts that i pray my little cousins or sister don't find when they scroll to the games.

now, the penis pictures... never really asked for those. especially the soft one, ew. but i gotta tell ya... i love those dirty texts. some i will never get rid of, ever. because they are either:
a- sentimental for whatever reason.
b- tooooo funny.
c- when my friends get drunk at the bar, what is the first thing they want to see? the pics and the texts.

people have been sexting forever. but just now are teenagers getting smart enough to send pictures of themselves in bras to dudes. duh! you just caught on to this? well, now these kids are getting into trouble. and the dirty perves they send these pictures to are getting the ax.

now... if back in the '90s, cell phones, picture messaging and text messaging were available to the naive, invincible suburban teen, i can tell you that i would be totally guilty.

i remember some raucous sleepovers when dares were accpected to run down the street in a bra and p.j. pants without getting caught.

so i say, good luck america. good luck censoring peole's phones. after all, they are private property and if your phone isn't being paid for by taxpayer dollars, then do what you will without headlines.

and i urge you to sext. it's especially fun when you are in a meeting.

another day, another layoff

i would like to dedicate these lyrics to all of my friends and family who are unemployed and have very low spirits. it seems like everyday, someone i know and love (or know and don't love or have once known for sort of forgot about) is losing their job.

This city has lost a certain holds inside
It feels so worn being chained here to this life
I've been around and seen one hundred scenes
Where those who dare to tread the wheel
One day find out what's behind that hill
Spend half a life deciding what went wrong
Trying to find out what took you so long
Until you feel it's all part of some crazy scheme
It conjours in you memories 'til
You discover what's behind the hill

You picked me up and we went for a drive
Into the stained glass cavern of the night
You turn to say, your eyes fixed on the rows
Take me from this place I know
The ruined landscapes that I once called home
I don't know what in this world is trying to save me
But I can feel its hand and it's guiding me in sign
From lives I've tried to lead
To the one that I received

Each painted sign along the road
Will melt away in source tags & in code

courtesy of ...and you will know us by the trail of dead "source tags & codes"

toilet karma

i am a weird bathroom-phobe.

i can't pee if someone is within earshot.
i flush multiple times at the chance of someone hearing.
i try to save my business for home.

so at work... we all share one tiny bathroom. for the most part, everyone keeps it clean. but sometimes a third party will clog it up and not plunge. sometimes that someone is me (not gonna lie!) and i dont want it to overflow or have the chance of someone hearing my date with the plunger.

karma is a bitch.

last week, after a fun date with Ripped (whom, three dates later, is still in the picture) i came to work hella hungover. mouth was dry. head was pounding. i had to go. like, bad. so i waited till no one was around and it was safe.

i get in and realize that someone has clogged the fucker. i flush and plunge real fast. no cigar. give it a few minutes. try again. dammit my head hurts! why isn't this working??

wait a few minutes for someone else to go in. head is throbbing. no luck.

escape from the office to hit the nearest semi-public restroom. wouldn't you know, burger king bathrooms were out-of-service. fuck. go back to work.

wait and wait and wait. apparently no one had any water today. still nothing.

you know that feeling... when your insides are about to fall out and you have to squeeze your butt checks. it was happening.

i had had it. went it and plunged my little heart out. overflow! i tip-toed out of there so no one could hear my heels.

sit.squeeze.wait.

sit. oh no, is that my stomach making the i have to go to the bathroom sound? wait.

maybe it's a girl thing... i don't know. but is it just me or is anyone else really particular about their bathroom reputation?? i feel like a big weirdo.

how does this story end?
waddled my way to my own bathroom.

you make me hot!

while i was hanging out with a bunch of pre-teen girls this weekend. watching dance movies and She's the Man, i realized something. something very important.

channing tatum is fucking gorgeous.

drug me

tonight, i'm going a little crazy.

in a fit of boredom, i tore through my bedroom. folded, stacked and hung all of the loose items on my floor and bed. a huge feat, in my world.
then i was overwhelmed by the amount of stacks and rows of hangers.
so i tore through my closet and bagged up a huge pile of stuff i know i will never wear again, sentimenal attachments aside. (sometimes this a problem for me.) i often get dragged into a memory or a time in my life when i was really happy. not that i am not happy now... but you know. nothing quite says happiness like your early twenties.

i wasn't done with the closet. i swept the floor.

with nothing else to sweep i moved on to the living space. swept the floor and picked up all of the stray guinea pig hay. (that shit is horrible and doesnt get picked up off of the floor unless you bend down and pick it up)

wait.. back up...

as i was sweeping my bedroom floor i thought, shit, my lease is going to be up soon and i either have to renew or have a bigger, better plan b.

so i get online and check out some job site. fuck. nothing. nothing. and nothing. first destination: the dream cities. there was one bite that i do not have enough experience for. so i tried detroit. absolutely nothing in the sinking city.

totally pissed off, i went outside in the pooring rain to smoke. i had to relight twice because it was raining so hard. back inside.

get a call from mom.
how was work?
eh, work.
well, at least you have a job. you are lucky. it's been six months for your dad and we are starting to get a little crazy. someone has to bite.
yeah. i know.
no, i don't think you do.
what do you mean?
that you have a job. a steady job, a 401k you are building and health insurance.
yeah, i know, mom.

back outside. still raining. relit only once.

here i am. totally pissed off, but at myself this time. i have a job. friends and family members don't. but still... i can't help feeling super unhappy with the state of my life.

normal behavior

one of the many and i mean many joys of trucking to work every morning is getting in, grabbing some coffee and getting your Urban Word of the Day, courtesy of Urban Dictionary.

today's word: inbox rot

definition: To neither accept, nor decline a friend request from someone on Facebook or Myspace. Used in situations when you don't want to accept someone's friend request, but you also don't want to be rude by declining them.

i do this ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL the time!!! it is so comforting that there may be more people out there like me.

i've got a few facebook friend requests rotting away in my inbox. some have been there for months at this point. others just got there.

a few examples:
1- a bitch from high school who never spoke to me. she was too busy giving the basketball team blowjobs.

2- a girl from my professional life who i don't really like. something tells me she is up to no good.

3- Brooklyn's best friend. i would have no problem adding him, i've known him for about ten years, too and have a great cordial relationship with him. but when i am not even friends with Brooklyn on facebook (because i think his status updates would kill me) it seems sort of awkward to friend his bff.

so away they rot. collecting dust. becoming internet worm food.

crap, i left my machete at home today

do you know what i absolutely hate??
i hate when you take a coveted vacation day on a friday for a nice long weekend. you come back to work semi-recharged. well, not recharged and full of energy, but calmer.

as you are waiting for your computer to log you in and warm up, a co-worker approaches you all frantic and asks, "did you read my email?"

um, no asshole, i haven't read a single email. (the rest of my responses vary from reality to the venom i was spewing in my head)

oh, so you didn't read it, did you.

did you hear a word i just said?

well, i need you to send out this press release like five minutes ago.

ok, well when i see it, i will send it out.

also, what was with that email from our client asking for that document?

um, i told you guys on thursday before i left that you would have to send it out friday because i wouldn't be here.

well, i didnt hear anything about that.

of course you didn't, that would require thinking and doing.


happy monday, everyone. can i go home yet?

and i shall answer

it's hard to imagine being on the receiving end.

on the dating site, a hot little number with all of his hair, teeth and pride posed the question:

"would you rather have an OK house and expensive cars or an expensive house and OK cars?"

good one.

"my, that is a very good question. a bit refreshing, too. here's my answer. although i do love a slick, stealthy car, i would go with spending serious money on a house. a house can be made into a home. a house can become the shell that houses some of the best memories a person can ever have. like cookouts with the family, christmas morning, dinner parties, etc. as with a car, you can't personalize it, you can't have thanksgiving dinner in it and it certainly won't stay in the family forever -- except for some isolated cases."

the next day response?

closed.

since the cars were so important to him... i can only imagine in which area he is lacking in life. haha. jerk.

big date with Ripped tonight. i will report back.

when expectations rise by the minute

short. (no one is above 6 foot)
republican. (you know where i am going with this)
gray hair.
raybans.

my matches have been awful. i specifically have my match credentials set to 25-34. i must have disappointed the online dating gods and now they are trying to teach me a lesson in passing judgment.
"what the eff! she closed another one! what a picky bitch.pull out the big guns, boys"
or
"ladies and gentlemen.. we have an over-crowding cat lady in the making. she will find shit in her shampoo before she finds a mate. let's fuck with her."

click. click. ew. close. click. this one isn't so bad. click. no fucking way. close.

well, i found one. although a little short. he is cute. he is a democrat. likes good music. and has a masters in urban planning. which, coincidentally, is just what i want to go back to school for.
we shall name him Ripped. because, ladies... this man is ripped. (yeah, i myspaced stalked him. but you are asking for it if you don't put your profile on private.)

so for the past week or so, we have been having these great "you've got mail" type of conversations. pondering the world. talking music. and more importantly talking about ourselves. i race home and check my account for new messages. check my account before i go to bed. check my account while brushing my teeth in the morning. and i can't help but feel a little excited about Ripped.

but... as with all online matches... you never know what you are going to get until it is sitting across a table from you while you stir your vodka-tonic nervously. i have high expectations with this one, folks. high. and he is ripped. and as with all women who feel a little self-conscious about their beyonce butt, it's not always pleasant to date a man who is in better shape than you.

and let's say the veil of disappointment is lifted from my head and placed onto his. will he think i am dishonest because i may not look entirely true to form from the pics i have posted on my profile? i dont have any recent ones posted. the most recent is from '07. that is when i felt hot. i was happy. and in bridesmaid mode so my hair and skin were perfect and i was tan, for fear of three seperate bridezillas.

because i don't feel like myself anymore, i am afraid that i don't look like myself anymore. so i just hope the disappointment doesn't carry over.

because if this person can make me feel as giddy and as happy has i do over a few silly messages, then there could be some hope, here.

the vetrianno print posted has nothing to do with anything. i just love it and wish it was summer.

church mouse

as a lapsed catholic, lent doesn't really mean a damn thing to me. sure, i'll give stuff up but only as a test to myself to see if i can do it. one year it was oreos. that was harder than i thought seeing as oreos were my food of the moment.
when i try pop i usually always fail.
but that's something that i have to live with.

this year... i did something out of character. i found a church and went to an ash wednesday mass after work. i did this for a few reasons.
1- i got to leave work 30 minutes early.
2- it seemed like everyone was going to church, too. never one to miss a trend, i went too.
3- i felt like going to church might save me. during a wicked spell of seasonal depression, i needed some cleansing. and in a very minor way i felt like i needed to say a prayer for the world.
the layoffs, people losing homes, businesses closing, outsourcing... it took its toll on me.

i found the oldest church in lansing and it was crowded. mostly the afterwork crowd. it made me feel good. i have to admit, i was a little nervous walking into a church after not going in a year and i sin. a lot. i smoke. drink. curse. and have my share of premarital bliss.
the place is still standing and lightening did not strike.
after all ash wednesday is about repent right? being absolved of your sins as you embark on 40 days of near primative life. that's how i look at it.
the priest talked about giving things up. the simple stuff like coffee (pass), renting movies (a definite pass), shopping (ok, maybe i can do this one.)

and really, i think i can do it this year. i have given up a number of things that i think will better my life -- at least for the next 40 days.
the list of give-ups:
1- celebrity gossip sites. because really... who the fuck cares? there are bigger things going in this world for me to be concerned with.
2- pepsi. god help me. a pepsi a day keeps the demons away.
3- shopping for myself. when the going gets tough, i like to treat myself. which has been a lot considering i have been so grumpy lately. groceries and daily necessities make the cut.

so far so good. and i'm feeling better about myself.

f*ck you, stupid boarding pass for doing this to me

have you ever gotten so caught up in a memory that it took your breath away?
like, literally, took your breath away and left you standing there, so wrapped up in a tiny moment from your past that you are paralyzed with a ten second memory for what feels like eternity?
and you can't do anything about it.
you can't shake it out of your head.
you can't get up and move away. you're locked in.

this has been happening to me a lot lately.
a song.
a crumpled business card.
an article of clothing.
a boarding pass stuffed from two months ago in your purse.

i found that boarding pass while i was at work today, looking for something else entirely. what i found was a memory that i didn't think i had enough room for in my clouded head. a memory that is so minor, but so significant, that six hours later, i can't stop thinking about what that ten second period of the day did to me.
the boarding pass was from a trip i had taken in december. to visit, oh, he needs a name, let's call him Brooklyn. Brooklyn could possibly be the love of my life. we'll get to that later.

as i sat at my desk, rearranging a boring database, my mind flooded. in the literal sense, except that a rush of intense emotion took the water's place.

i had issues with the self-check-in machine. so a friendly northwest worker, i believe his name was rod, neal or something like that, helped me. he smiled. and i remember smiling and glowing because i could not wait to greet who was waiting for me 300 miles away at LaGuardia. i remembered the guy who lost his money clip at the security checkpoint and the way he smelled when he bent down to put his shoes on. sweet, like honey and shaving cream. "they are going to say they can't find it, but it has to be here somewhere." i wished him luck and finished putting my boots on. i remembered sitting at the gate pretending to read my book but trying to keep my heart in my chest. the detroit-afternoon sun was pooring through the windows and warming my face. i fiddled with my iPod, thumbed through Dharma Bums and sat ... trying to wait patiently. the girl across the aisle was dressed in her work clothes, big girl pants and high heeled shoes. she was reading about NYC sightseeing. another girl, in sweats, was talking on her phone to whom i think was her mother, babysitting her daugther while she was away. i wanted to be asked. please ask me where i am going. ask me who's picking me up. ask me why i am doing this to myself -- again.

i remember sitting on the plane. trying to keep it under control. watching out the window to make sure my red luggage made it onto the plane. it did. i relaxed. everytime my heart skipped, i reminded myself not to get excited.
no expectations this time, i thought.
do not get your hopes up.
just let it flow.

this worked for the duration of the flight.

and when i landed and was rolling my luggage out to the car and, more importantly, Brooklyn, i let my heart skip. let it run. because i was running. running into a person's arms whom i knew didn't love me, but didn't care. or at least that is what i told myself. don't we all tell ourselves that?

this is what a crumpled up boarding pass can do to a person. i don't know that it is healthy. but at least i have a good memory. sometimes too good. it's these moments... these moments that are over before i can stop for a one second and think, this is a good one.

i can't remember if i tore that boarding pass into a million pieces or if i shoved it back into my purse. honestly, i don't want to find out. i'm glad i have a big purse.

you've already pushed me away and we'll never meet

"dear heather, why haven't you written? why haven't you bothered to contact me? i would really love to meet you and get to know you, but i can't do that if you don't respond to my messages."

if you guessed dating match... ding ding ding! i decided to be a little superficial (say it with me... i'm effing paying for this, i can be a douchebag, too) and nix all of the matches with:
1- a hawaiian shirt in one-to-all pictures
2- a lip-to-tounge smooch with the token dog to show that not only is he desperate for pussy but thinks he'll get one step closer to your pretty little things by showing how much he loves animals
3- rayban sunglasses
4- one-to-all pictures taken with one hand emulating the "serious" look

IT Confused had all but the dog pic. fine... i guess i can go with this one... and the q&a process began.
click.
click. yes.
yes, i prefer a movie to a comedy club.
no, i have never been whitewater rafting.
yes.
yes, i like to be lazy on my days off.
send.
with every boring answer i am giving my eyes are glazing over. i am wasting my time on you and you don't even know it. but i know it. and it is going to take a firecracker up my ass before i take notice to your deep, emotional qualities.

i wonder if many other virtually compatible people out there have hopes of landing a "connection" with someone based on some pictures and a few generic personality facts. does that really happen? i know we all hope for it, regardless of how faulty it is.

i do not know what it is about rayban glasses, but i have dated some adorable trendy men who would not ever wear these things. maybe i thought they were gone from society for good. nope. The Athlete wore them. IT Confused was wearing them in all but two pictures.

after three days of not really keeping up with my matches, i was a little startled when IT Confused sent me that creepy message. unfortunately for him, he listed his screenname which also happens to be his full name.

so to the facebooks i go. and sure enough... there is IT Confused. with a different career listed. On the match site he was some type of engineer. Father facebook told me he works at a bank and does mortgages. ha!!

why bother building yourself when a social networking site i can use to stalk you will tell the truth? because you can't lie to father facebook. no, no, no. don't you dare.

sorry IT Confused. you're officially closed.

i'd rather step on your shell neclace with barefeet in the dark.

i'm paying for this... what's the harm in effing with the douchehats?

oh boy...
although my profile says i am a liberal blond with huge ambition, my matches have been consisting of... wait for it... REPUBLICANS!
hardcore republicans.

two matches have pictures of themselves at a Mitt Romney fundraiser. it's almost surreal.

because i am a troublemaker at heart, i have decided to pretend i am interested in one of the matches who seemed like he was on a mission from god to land a cute republican wife. i posed the question, "how important are politics and political views to you?"
the response went something like this: "i don't think bush was terrible and there were many things he did that i supported. i don't support gay marriage and a lot of other things that crazy liberals find worthwhile. i do not like obama and do not think he will have any positive impact on this country or world."


my response went something like this: "dear short,balding teacher who is only 34, (editor's note: i didn't really write that! i'm not that much of a heartless bitch) i hope this isn't offensive but i, like the bazillions of americans who voted for him, have intense hope in obama after the previous administration fucked everything up (editor's note: i don't start cussing until i actually meet these douchehats). before i officially close this match... i have some advice for you... when chatting with a stranger whom you hope to bed at a future time do not give such opinionated answers. may obama severely disappoint you as a leader of our suffering country."

that was amusing. i posed the same question for douchebag #2. no response yet.

buck up, young lass. go date.

buried in a pile of fleece blankets on my couch the other night, i realized something was missing from my life -- all by dropping the remote and having a shit time trying to get it but remaining in the same position. (by the way, does anyone have one of those snuggie things?)as my ponytail flopped over my head, the light went off.

on-line dating!

giddy up ladies and gentlemen, it's time. with an intensive password search, the click of a mouse and a few quick updates to an outdated profile, i am back on a dating site. (just exactly which one, you may never know.)

as you may have seen with The Athlete example, i am not down with the serious relationships right now. i dont want one.

but... i am a serial dating. maybe it's because i have always been curious and made a career (before i semi-retired for politics last year) out of meeting strangers, buttering them up and writing a story and the rest of the journalism bit. but i love dating.

i.love.dating. yes, i said it.
i love flirting, i love first impressions, i love awkward moments, picking up on them and making boys squirm. and serial dating may be the key to getting me off of the couch and out of hibernation.

plus, my friends get the BEST and i mean THE BEST stories from my experiences. do you have a naked picture on your phone of a naked dude you had just met a few hours earlier... for the first time?? or how about a story about the dude who within four minutes of meeting him admitted that he pees in the shower to save cash on his water bill?

so grab a drink and take your seats. you are so coming on this dating ride and no details will be spared, i promise.

pining for my pug

tonight, i got really emotional at the pet store. and i all i wanted to do was buy some hay for my guinea bitches.

i should mention: i am a sucker for "breed-brand" merchandise. you know doormats, shirts and trinkets with a picture of the dog and the name of the dog. i never buy this stuff for myself because i know one of the older women in my family with. (i've got every PUG change purse, blanket and magnet. thanks, grandma!)
i always imagine myself as a little old lady with a baby blue visor and wispy hair being rolled around with a pug blanket on her lap and a pug tote, too.

first of all, apparently petco remodeled over the weekend. the floor was squeaky clean and i was trying not to slip in my heels. (fail) as i tiptoed to the guinea bitch isle a breed-brand merchandise display was now in its place.

it was pug! pug! pug galore!! and some other breeds, too. but mostly pugs.

i picked up a pug mug and felt my eyes grow blurry quickly. then i felt the nose.
i said "i miss my pug!!!" slammed the mug down and found my way to the rodent section.

i hate that i cant see my dog everyday. when i moved to college town, michigan i left the pug with my parents. there, he has a huge yard, his shih-tzu sister and lots of people around for attention and kisses. i did not think it would be fair to isolate him all day long in a small apartment.(above is a picture of pablo)

yes, i have two little guinea girls. i adopted them because they needed homes. i thought the girls would somehow help fill the void in my heart. but they cant run and give you kisses when you get home, however they can make pac-man like squeaks and after a long day it is pretty adorable.

but i miss my little pablo honey everyday. i have a stuffed pug that i sleep with. but it really isnt the same.

this will all sound silly to a non-pug owner but these little dogs surely steal your heart and i am especially missing my pug this week.

this is where it may get messy

oh! i just realized something! i have zero followers. aw shucks, nobody loves me. i think i'll go home now...


in other news. this morning (this one is for the books, i actually woke up with enough time to flat iron the fuck out of my hair) i turned off the coffee pot, gave my neck and cleavage a little spritz, opened my messy jewelry box... and... GASP!!! my Tiffany earrings are not there!! my little silver ball earrings are not there! the precious gift from my mom a few years back are not there!!

oh boy... check the bathroom sink, check the end table, check pockets.. frantically check everything that can be pulled open and and slammed shut in my bedroom. nothing.

get to work. coffee pot explodes on me. get handed a million projects. sigh deeply.

all the while i am visualizing every outfit i have worn in the past week, every drawer i have opened, every place i have been.

and then it hits me like a train...

the last time i remember physically touching them was the last time i went to visit The Athlete. one had fallen out of my ear and i had decided to remove both of them.

there are two more places i can check when i get home tonight. i pray to my lucky stars that they are in my apartment.
otherwise i will be making a call i do not wish to make.

meet 'The Athlete'

i should probably tell you a little bit about The Athlete, as some of you are wondering what was so awful about this man.
well, like any new beginning in a relationship, the first month was perfect. it was fun. it was fun getting to know this person, talking every night, cute little emails at work.

well... about three months in, The Athlete started to show his true colors.
Here are some of the things about him that i couldn't tolerate:

1- always being available.the problem: at first, it was cute... always keeping tabs on me. wanting to know where i was all the time. and for a brief interlude i enjoyed it. it made me feel loved. but... one time i went to bed a little early and didnt let the athlete know. that's when i found out this person needs to know where i am at ALL times. i woke up to voice mails and texts. and believe it or not, he got mad at me for this! it snowballed after that.

2- i went on vacation and didnt call him everyday.
so i took a little trip that i had planned at the start of our relationship. of course i didnt invite him along. well, as time wore on, he whined about it. like cried about it. when i went on my trip, i got so wrapped up in my friends and activities that i didnt call. honestly, i didnt think that would be a problem. well... it was a HUGE problem and i heard about it for week when i returned.

3- he told me i shouldnt be so involved with my family.
yup, true story. i come from a family where everyone is very close. the grandparents, the aunts, the cousins, etc. so some weekends it can be a little daunting seeing everyone, etc. well... this was a problem for a man who was an only child from the smallest family i have ever known. maybe it was jealousy? i dont know, but he started making remarks about some family members and i did not appreciate that all. also, he didnt understand why i had to be with them all day on christmas. what?!! you are kidding me. in fact, it still pisses me off the more i think about it.

4- my girlfriends are homely and matronly.
yes, another true story. when you fuck with my two best friends who are beautiful inside and out and who come from wholesome families, you get at least five strikes against you. because through all of the relationships, new jobs and deaths, these two women have been there for 10 years without fail. but do not ever makes remarks against them, especially when you havent even met them! asshole!

5- i don't wear stripper gear.
i love strippers. i have met some really amazing one and understand they do what they do to make some cash. i can respect that! BUT... i dont appreciate being asked to dress like a stripper in the bedroom. i don't appreciate being asked to buy clear, plastic heels. The Athlete had a fetish for strippers that was deeply disturbing, especially when mentioned on the second date. i brushed it off. but COME ON! do not tell me about your undying love for women in the clear plastic shoes and white thigh-highs and ask me if i have a pair and can i please wear them the next time we hang out. i'm not a prude by any means, i have some stories that will make your grandmother curl up into a ball, but some things... i dont know.

6- don't keep videos where i can find them.
oh yeah... right there on the desktop was a folder called "heather." well, that is my name and also the name of an ex before me. i opened the folder because i thought maybe it had pictures in there that i had taken or that we had taken together. well... i found movie files with titles like "H_tabledance" and "H_spreadeagle" and "H_inthebath." the contents were disturbing as fuck. he actually played a video for me. no joke. and you guessed it. some of the vidoes involves the shoes.

that's the short list. i am happy that i got that off my chest!! i needed to just get it all out.

there you have it. The Athlete.

you've been kicked... like a kick ball!

so i have this thing... when i lose interest in a dude, i complicate matters by pleading ignorance and i just ignore him. yup, that's right. like a high school fueder. you may call me a heartless bitch, but i have had my share of karma, so i don't disagree with the things i do. afterall, i'm not the little college freshman i was 10 years ago (wow... i haven't yet put a year on that one. ouch), but i'm a young woman who has a full time job and is living my own life taking care of myself and doing my own thing.

but this action of course leads to:
1- anger (not mine, his)
2- questioning
3- nasty emails and texts because really, a modern day man cannot possibly pick up a phone and express his frustration, right?

i am semi-happy to report that The Athlete is out of the picture! he finally got the hint! since the flower debacle, remind me to toss them or take them home at the end of the day tomorrow, i haven't talked to him.

this has been because:
1- work has been hella busy with fundraisers and events this week
2- i havent really wanted to

maybe one day i will go into more details about The Athlete. but i have to say... i feel really great about this one. i think i got the last in a series of nasty emails just now. this one was short and to the point. It read: "I wish you luck in all you do. I'm sure you'll be fine once you decide your life direction."

no more criticism, no more phone leash, no more judgement no more talk of "serious relationship," no more metrosexual! no more! no more!

phew! who wants to do a shot?

thanks for the flowers...

but that doesn't change the fact that i don't want to share your bed at night.

to my horror, non-sports-caring-loving-watching boy, we shall name him 'the Athlete,' sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers to the office yesterday for my birthday. everyone wants to know who they are from and wait with anticipation while i open the envelop and unveil the card.
sure enough....
'happy birthday, sweetheart! love, the Athlete.'

oh boy... lots of explaining to the co-workers to do.

no only do i not like this man anymore (it just turned off like a switch, actually!) but you will never meet him, ever. so don't get to excited.

the most unfortunate part of it all, other than calling him to thank him... the flowers are beautiful. all of my favorite. lots and lots of daisies. i love them.

i hope the Athlete doesn't hope this the clincher and i will fall back in love with him, however i really never was. maybe for a day while the smothering and phone leash was cute.

it was cute when i told him a few months ago that i have always wanted flowers at work for my birthday. a piece of me cringed every time some other broad got them from her man-friend. but i was hoping he would forget. and while he was in a mind-fog, forget my birthday and my existence, too. that would make my escape less stealthy.

luckily i wont have the option of seeing him till the weekend. until then, i need to decide what to do.
this. is. a. disaster.

ridiculous krispie treats

it's an effing rice krispie treat... it can't be that bone crushing, right? it is. no where on the rice krispie site, with its millions of variations to the treat (add some mint! add some walnuts!)does it say anything about stirring until your arm hurts or careful! don't get any on the stove! it'll be stuck there for four months, like gum in your hair.

both of those things happened which leaves me wondering a few things:
1- am i missing the domestic gene? if my grandmother can whip up enough of these crusty bricks to feed an army at christmas, then why the hell am i having such an effing hard time?

2- can i not follow directions without wanting to go my own route? yeah, i pay attention and read the requirements but it is mentally and physically impossible for me to actually do what is said. if it says add half a packet of banana pudding mix then i will add the whole packet. otherwise, how would you be able to taste it?

i've given up on these damn treats. i will never try to make them again. stupid.

charming will only get you so far

picking out and renting your first apartment for you, yourself and no one but yourself is very exciting.

it's like driving away from your parents' house for the first time just after they decide to trust you enough as a new driver.

you feel free. you feel invincible. you feel on top of the world. like the NIN song "nothing can stop me now... i don't care anymore."

so you go check out the apartments in town, the ones you have always had your eye on and thought, "wow, look at those historic, classy apartments. look at all of those windows! i'll bet they are cute with original hardwood floors and bathroom tile!"


when my lease with the roommate was up, i said goodbye and signed up for the first apartment i looked at out of greed for a classier, more modern lifestyle at the historic, classy apartments.

i got what i wanted: hardwood floors, tons of windows and original bathroom tile and fixtures from the 1920s.

the older women in my family call it charming. my friends call it adorable. visitors call it cute and are impressed by the bay window in the bedroom.

i've been biting my tongue on this one for a while... but after a year and half i can be frank.
what i also got with my charming apartment: drafty windows (i really think they are the original), slow drains (also the original), old fuses (you guessed it), hallow walls (yes, i can hear my neighbors doing it sometimes) and the latest... pipes that are apt to freeze.

i just keep reminding myself that spring and summer are somewhere around the corner and that when it is warm out, it is beautiful. great breezes, lots of windows to open, evening sunlight... everything i could have hoped for.

have i learned my lesson. yes, i think so. but who wants to live in a white-wall carpeted square if you can help it?

but for right now, the charm isn't cutting it. we'll see how i feel when the lease is up.

the man who doesn't care about the game

i never, ever thought i would be ridiculed for blocking out two hours of my night for my fantasy basketball draft...

i never, ever thought i would be chastised for choosing to watch a football game with my dad rather than help paint a fence...

i never, ever thought i would have to explain what a field goal is at a basketball game to someone older than seven with a 401k...

i never, ever thought i would have to justify watching the superbowl to anyone...

especially to a 28-year-old man.

within at least a month of each other in the past few months, i have had to make these proclamations to myself. i stop. blink. shake my head. and think, " can this really be happening to me?"

i never thought it was possible to date a man who did not like or watch college or professional sports. at first i thought i could get away with it. the olympics made it on tv for a few night last year. but that was it.

i'm not an avid sports fan, but i do enjoy it. i love the competition the professional drama. big plays. sore losers. important games.

but i don't enjoy dating a man who does not have any interest in sports at all. i don't think i can do it.

it's just a shirt

cleaning out my closet, i unearthed some obsessive behavior i had no idea i possessed.
i could not bring myself to get rid of certain things because they evoked memories of an event, a great time in my life or a certain person.

actually, i couldn't bring myself to throw a lot of these materialistic memories in the black donation bag.

example: back when i was much thinner (thank you, mono, for granted me a super-sleek summer of 2003) i returned from Rome, Italy completely infatuated. i had fallen for Italy. with the memories and love still alive, back home, i bought a green tanktop with a screen printed peach on it that said "Rome, Georgia, home of the greatest peaches" or something like that. that same week my boyfriend (also my greatest love of the early 2000s) attended lollapalooza, drank beer, took a ton of photos of our favorite bands with a very valuable photo pass and had an amazingly memorable day. maybe one of my favorite nights of all time. and i wore that shirt. actually, i wore that shirt, a short denim skirt and brown flip flops that kind of hurt my feet.

well, that love has since faded (may i never see him again) but seeing that shirt brought back that memory i had tucked away. i didnt so much think about the dude and all of the horrible emotional stress he has since caused me, but i remembered how i felt and the fun i had. i even smelled, hoping that it may smell like sweat, smoke or summer. it didn't.

six years later, i doubt i could fit a tit into that shirt.

i didn't put it in the garbage bag -- i just couldn't do it. i put it back in my closet.
maybe in the next closet-clearing round.

major overhaul

happy new year, as they say.
i say, i hope this fucking year is better than last fucking year.

here are my simple resolutions that no one but myself can help me with:

1- pay my bills on time. can it really be that difficult? how it is that people are so good at this? it's an art i have neither appreciated or adapted for my life. with a nice little christmas bonus i am starting off the year with all of the tools i need. let's see if i can master this once and for all.

2- say what i mean and mean what i say. if there is another thing i need to work on, it is uncorking the bottle of emotions i have invested years in. it's time to speak. count on me to tell you what i really think. you sort of realize as you get older that you don't have anyone else to shield your feelings for you. you mom can't tell your sister to apologize for throwing your barbies on the roof anymore. and your mom can't tell someone you love them for you. it's all you.

3- do the dishes. this one is a no-brainer, too. don't grow science experiments... just fucking wash them.