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.