Note: I started writing this yesterday and posted it today. I meant to do it last night but when I came home I was STARVING so we had to go eat our weight in 20 cent wings and then I just plain forgot to update it.
So, today I have a second interview at the dental office which just about sent my fingerprints to the lab to see if i came up with any homicide matches. Yes, a second interview. Let me reiterate. A SECOND interview for a receptionist job. Oh, and I found out today they have been calling around for my references. Nothing like doing that 14 days later!
So, I think they are hauling me back in today to meet with the doctors. I am making a prediction now and then I will put this aside and tell you if I was right.
I am going to spend another two hours in there while I wait 10 minutes to meet with each doctor for two minutes and I have to answer the same questions over and over again.
Let's go see if i am right.
I was totally right. I was there for 90 minutes and met with two doctors and the coordinator (who I waited 20 minutes for). They offered me the job but not before trying to shake my confidence with shady head games and everyone knows how much I LOVE that. So, now I have some thinking to do.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Dush Dush in the bush
I did a focus group.
Everyone who knows me knows I make my unemployed living off focus groups. I am not even picky in times like this. I suppose that is how I ended up doing one on douche and feminine wash yesterday. Yes, you heard me. DOUCHE. As in the feminine version of the Stick-Up. As in my favorite term to call people - douchebag.
The group consisted of seven girls. That is seven vaginas and seven mouths who have a lot to say about their vaginas. However, five people of those seven insisted on pronouncing "douche" as "dush". For a while I thought I was in the wrong group. I thought they were saying "dish" and actually wondered, "what is this dish they are talking about? Satellite TV? I am here to talk about my vagina. Maybe it's a new term or some new product like that menstrual cup thing." Yeah, i was obviously up at 5 a.m. for that to even make a lick of sense to me.
Anyway, there was one girl in the group who thought her vagina was above all other vaginas when anyone referred to a feminine problem like too much wetness or a strange odor.
"Well, then you have to go see a doctor" she would say.
Maybe the person did have to go see a doctor but every female has an odor and it sure as shit ain't roses! In my house we call it "Stanky Pachang" or "Smelly Fish Butt." But apparently, Fresh Snatch over there thinks her vagina is supreme. Maybe it is. But she didn't look like she was doing anything with her vagina that led me to believe she was clean as a whistle "down there." I'm not saying this to be mean but when we went around the room introducing ourselves she did say she lived with her three kids and her mother. There was no mention of a husband/boyfriend/babydaddy. However she did go on about spermicide and that being the reason she doesn't dush after sex. She is afraid the dush will clear out the spermicide and enable her to get knocked up . . . again. Do you see what kind of ignorance I am up against?
Despite the fact that the only reason I was there was to extol the virtues of douching and feminine wash, I felt the need to remind everyone that "dushing too much is bad for you." I am such a rebel rouser. Seriously, my gyno told me years ago that douching will wreak havoc on the Ph balance of your vergander and cause all sorts of infections. I said this, making the comparison of protective bacteria to nosehair.
The moderator had her work cut out for her getting us back on track after such tangents about dushing myths. The purpose of the group was to get dushers to use feminine wash instead and she was there to show us an array of feminine wash. Fresh Snatch of course claimed to use feminine wash everyday. What the moderator wasn't getting was that douching and using a feminine wash had two different purposes. One was an internal flush and one was . . . well . . a WASH.
However, I did hear some words unknown to the English language that I wish I wrote down.
Cleansier - I suppose she meant cleaner but who knows.
Vaginal - which is a word but ceases being one when pronounced Vah-jy-nal.
Moistier - Heck?
Translute - As in "I like the bottle that is translute because I can see what color the wash is."
And yet, I was the only one at the table without a job.
Amusing. I type these missives in gmail so I can save them, catalog them and revise them as needed. My sponsored links are: Douchebag t-shirts, Dr. Laura and John Kerry. Random. Apparently Gmail likes to think that democrats are douchebags.
Everyone who knows me knows I make my unemployed living off focus groups. I am not even picky in times like this. I suppose that is how I ended up doing one on douche and feminine wash yesterday. Yes, you heard me. DOUCHE. As in the feminine version of the Stick-Up. As in my favorite term to call people - douchebag.
The group consisted of seven girls. That is seven vaginas and seven mouths who have a lot to say about their vaginas. However, five people of those seven insisted on pronouncing "douche" as "dush". For a while I thought I was in the wrong group. I thought they were saying "dish" and actually wondered, "what is this dish they are talking about? Satellite TV? I am here to talk about my vagina. Maybe it's a new term or some new product like that menstrual cup thing." Yeah, i was obviously up at 5 a.m. for that to even make a lick of sense to me.
Anyway, there was one girl in the group who thought her vagina was above all other vaginas when anyone referred to a feminine problem like too much wetness or a strange odor.
"Well, then you have to go see a doctor" she would say.
Maybe the person did have to go see a doctor but every female has an odor and it sure as shit ain't roses! In my house we call it "Stanky Pachang" or "Smelly Fish Butt." But apparently, Fresh Snatch over there thinks her vagina is supreme. Maybe it is. But she didn't look like she was doing anything with her vagina that led me to believe she was clean as a whistle "down there." I'm not saying this to be mean but when we went around the room introducing ourselves she did say she lived with her three kids and her mother. There was no mention of a husband/boyfriend/babydaddy. However she did go on about spermicide and that being the reason she doesn't dush after sex. She is afraid the dush will clear out the spermicide and enable her to get knocked up . . . again. Do you see what kind of ignorance I am up against?
Despite the fact that the only reason I was there was to extol the virtues of douching and feminine wash, I felt the need to remind everyone that "dushing too much is bad for you." I am such a rebel rouser. Seriously, my gyno told me years ago that douching will wreak havoc on the Ph balance of your vergander and cause all sorts of infections. I said this, making the comparison of protective bacteria to nosehair.
The moderator had her work cut out for her getting us back on track after such tangents about dushing myths. The purpose of the group was to get dushers to use feminine wash instead and she was there to show us an array of feminine wash. Fresh Snatch of course claimed to use feminine wash everyday. What the moderator wasn't getting was that douching and using a feminine wash had two different purposes. One was an internal flush and one was . . . well . . a WASH.
However, I did hear some words unknown to the English language that I wish I wrote down.
Cleansier - I suppose she meant cleaner but who knows.
Vaginal - which is a word but ceases being one when pronounced Vah-jy-nal.
Moistier - Heck?
Translute - As in "I like the bottle that is translute because I can see what color the wash is."
And yet, I was the only one at the table without a job.
Amusing. I type these missives in gmail so I can save them, catalog them and revise them as needed. My sponsored links are: Douchebag t-shirts, Dr. Laura and John Kerry. Random. Apparently Gmail likes to think that democrats are douchebags.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
"What do you hope to get out of this job?"
Ok, now I have seen it all.
Since being unemployed I have only been able to score a handful of interviews. Five to be exact unless I am missing one which is entirely possible.
Yesterday's interview took the cake. It was a receptionist job. I know what you're all thinking. "Receptionist job, Lisa? I mean, really." The fact of the matter is admin and receptionist jobs are the only jobs currently out there not to mention the only jobs willing to call me back because my resume is so "diverse". I had so many different jobs. It's all over the board, sales, marketing, research, journalism, customer service. One thing is for sure, I certainly dabbled.
So, this particular interview was at a dental practice. I thought my dentist's office was a nice comfortable place to go but this place has it beat. There is a masseuse in the waiting room and ladies can have paraffin waxes while they wait too. There is a fridge stocked with water, a babysitting service and they even give you lipgloss on your way out if your lips took a beating from keeping your mouth open all that time. Swanky.
I walk in and I am all ready for my interview. I have my resume in hand, recommendation letters and references attached and I am red to go. The receptionist handed me an application. An application. What is up with companies still making you fill out applications like a freaking mall job. List your jobs. Your education. Seriously. It is absurd but I'll play along. This is the second time I witnessed this insanity. Finally, I grew tired of repeating myself and just clipped my resume to the application. I flipped through to make sure I got everything and that is when I saw it.
Page 3.
Page 3 of the application was a graphology test. For those of you who didn't work in the autograph biz or don't know anyone in the FBI or CIA, a graphology test is a handwriting analysis test that can determine your personality by your handwriting. And you sillies thought it had something to do with your zodiac sign. Hah! Theses particular questions focused on your past job. I guess that was an added security measure to see if you were lying. Sometimes, they can tell if you are lying by how small or tight you make your letters. Well, wouldn't you know, i was ready to run. I completely forgot how to write cursive. I haven;t done it in so long that almost every letter escaped me. They also requested you not use lined paper but the page happened to be laying right over a lined page so it was impossible not to. Visually, the line was there. My writing will probably deem me a serial killer. But careful, I might be lying that I indeed do know how to answer the phone.
However, I was somewhat prepared for the interview that would follow. When the guy called to pre-screen me he asked what i consider a silly question that makes me want to scream "Duhhhhhh" followed by an air horn. I get it a lot because the jobs I am applying for are not anywhere near what my experience is in. I guess it is valid from their point of view. They want to make sure they aren't going to take the time to train me and I am out the door when something better comes along. But really, in this job market, you should be grateful you have people with half a brain applying for these gigs.
The question: "What do you hope to get out of this job?"
Well, let's see, it's a receptionist job. I'm not quite sure anyone actually seeks these types of jobs and surely you don't want to hear me say "um, a paycheck and some benefits" so what else can I say? I give the standby. I am looking for stability. A job that i don't have to worry how the market is going to affect it because everyone has teeth!
The guys asked me this on the phone and again when he was meeting with me. Honestly, I am sick and tired of this question. I mean anyone who reads a newspaper knows that the job market is not great. Why else would you be getting people who have accounting backgrounds or marketing backgrounds applying for admin jobs. HELLOOOOO!!!!! Ace!
Anyway, I was there for almost 2 hours. I met with the employee coordinator, some chick who i am not sure what her role is and the doctor who owns the joint. They mentioned me coming back for a second interview. I wanted to say, "um, are you hiring me as a dentist because I didn't have two interviews for most jobs I had that didn't require just picking up your phone."
My favorite was that he grilled me on my Excel knowledge and then when I asked if it was software they used, he said no. WTF?
Since being unemployed I have only been able to score a handful of interviews. Five to be exact unless I am missing one which is entirely possible.
Yesterday's interview took the cake. It was a receptionist job. I know what you're all thinking. "Receptionist job, Lisa? I mean, really." The fact of the matter is admin and receptionist jobs are the only jobs currently out there not to mention the only jobs willing to call me back because my resume is so "diverse". I had so many different jobs. It's all over the board, sales, marketing, research, journalism, customer service. One thing is for sure, I certainly dabbled.
So, this particular interview was at a dental practice. I thought my dentist's office was a nice comfortable place to go but this place has it beat. There is a masseuse in the waiting room and ladies can have paraffin waxes while they wait too. There is a fridge stocked with water, a babysitting service and they even give you lipgloss on your way out if your lips took a beating from keeping your mouth open all that time. Swanky.
I walk in and I am all ready for my interview. I have my resume in hand, recommendation letters and references attached and I am red to go. The receptionist handed me an application. An application. What is up with companies still making you fill out applications like a freaking mall job. List your jobs. Your education. Seriously. It is absurd but I'll play along. This is the second time I witnessed this insanity. Finally, I grew tired of repeating myself and just clipped my resume to the application. I flipped through to make sure I got everything and that is when I saw it.
Page 3.
Page 3 of the application was a graphology test. For those of you who didn't work in the autograph biz or don't know anyone in the FBI or CIA, a graphology test is a handwriting analysis test that can determine your personality by your handwriting. And you sillies thought it had something to do with your zodiac sign. Hah! Theses particular questions focused on your past job. I guess that was an added security measure to see if you were lying. Sometimes, they can tell if you are lying by how small or tight you make your letters. Well, wouldn't you know, i was ready to run. I completely forgot how to write cursive. I haven;t done it in so long that almost every letter escaped me. They also requested you not use lined paper but the page happened to be laying right over a lined page so it was impossible not to. Visually, the line was there. My writing will probably deem me a serial killer. But careful, I might be lying that I indeed do know how to answer the phone.
However, I was somewhat prepared for the interview that would follow. When the guy called to pre-screen me he asked what i consider a silly question that makes me want to scream "Duhhhhhh" followed by an air horn. I get it a lot because the jobs I am applying for are not anywhere near what my experience is in. I guess it is valid from their point of view. They want to make sure they aren't going to take the time to train me and I am out the door when something better comes along. But really, in this job market, you should be grateful you have people with half a brain applying for these gigs.
The question: "What do you hope to get out of this job?"
Well, let's see, it's a receptionist job. I'm not quite sure anyone actually seeks these types of jobs and surely you don't want to hear me say "um, a paycheck and some benefits" so what else can I say? I give the standby. I am looking for stability. A job that i don't have to worry how the market is going to affect it because everyone has teeth!
The guys asked me this on the phone and again when he was meeting with me. Honestly, I am sick and tired of this question. I mean anyone who reads a newspaper knows that the job market is not great. Why else would you be getting people who have accounting backgrounds or marketing backgrounds applying for admin jobs. HELLOOOOO!!!!! Ace!
Anyway, I was there for almost 2 hours. I met with the employee coordinator, some chick who i am not sure what her role is and the doctor who owns the joint. They mentioned me coming back for a second interview. I wanted to say, "um, are you hiring me as a dentist because I didn't have two interviews for most jobs I had that didn't require just picking up your phone."
My favorite was that he grilled me on my Excel knowledge and then when I asked if it was software they used, he said no. WTF?
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Sim-ply Addicted
I blame Stew.
If Stew hadn't been so supportive of me playing video games while I'm unemployed there is no way I would have been persuaded to buy Sims 2. I knew how lethal The Sims were. I prcatically had to break the game CD to stop playing. Well, actually, all i had to do was to break up with the boy who I was borrowing it from prompting me to have to return it. Still, do you see the lengths I went to to rid myself of the evil that was The Sims?
All that.
And what does Stew do?
"I'll buy it for you if you really want it. I want you to be entertained."
Ohhhhhh, noooooo, Stewwwwwww! Why didn't he just hand me the belt and needle? Heck, why he's at it, give the vein a few good pats to get it to show its face. Its ugly ugly pixelated face.
"No," I said. "If I want it, I'll buy it."
I couldn't let Stew buy me the eqivalent of crack. Granted, I let him buy me Cold Stone ice cream and S'mores fondue and that might be considered my own personal crack, but The Sims was a whole different drug. I made it look like a decision I was struggling with. I even said a few times out loud, "I don't know. I may get addicted." I was hoping Stew would tackle me to the floor and rip it out of my hands and drag me out of the store. Alas, he didn't. He stood there thinking where we should go to dinner and why the hell is it taking me so long to buy a stupid game.
"Wait," Stew said, "You should buy this. It has The Sims 2 and the Holiday Stuff expansion pack. Why would anyone buy them separate when they are both here for only $10 more. Stupid."
Oh my god. Not just crack, holiday crack. I skipped to the register. I didn't want dinner, I wanted to go home and start installing.
It did not take long for me to rediscover why i have a love/hate relationship with The Sims. The Sims are very time consuming and like pets they must be trained when to eat, sleep, bathe and go to work. Being unemployed and playing Sims while polishing off a pot of coffee doesn't exactly give me the right to start running other people's lives. But, hell if i tried.
Sims 2 is like 900 times better than Sims. It is much more advanced and your characters eventually learn when to pee, poop, eat, go to work or bathe. Altho' sometimes when one of my Sim hears the horn for her job, she immediately runs to the living room to watch TV. That would be my favorite Sim, Stony Burner. More on Stony later. The new sims even get fat, lose weight and have sex. They also have aspiration meters so you can start your Sim off with high ror low aspirations from birth. But they whine a lot when they don't reach their goals.
So, i am addicted and what does Stew go ahead and do?
He buys me more exansion packs for Christmas. I got Sims University where i can send them to college and make them join fraternities or sororities. Sims Open for business which is a really involved game about having your Sims starts businesses and buld empires. And, Sims Glamour Life where I can buy them more expensive funky stuff.
I'm in Sims Hell.
If Stew hadn't been so supportive of me playing video games while I'm unemployed there is no way I would have been persuaded to buy Sims 2. I knew how lethal The Sims were. I prcatically had to break the game CD to stop playing. Well, actually, all i had to do was to break up with the boy who I was borrowing it from prompting me to have to return it. Still, do you see the lengths I went to to rid myself of the evil that was The Sims?
All that.
And what does Stew do?
"I'll buy it for you if you really want it. I want you to be entertained."
Ohhhhhh, noooooo, Stewwwwwww! Why didn't he just hand me the belt and needle? Heck, why he's at it, give the vein a few good pats to get it to show its face. Its ugly ugly pixelated face.
"No," I said. "If I want it, I'll buy it."
I couldn't let Stew buy me the eqivalent of crack. Granted, I let him buy me Cold Stone ice cream and S'mores fondue and that might be considered my own personal crack, but The Sims was a whole different drug. I made it look like a decision I was struggling with. I even said a few times out loud, "I don't know. I may get addicted." I was hoping Stew would tackle me to the floor and rip it out of my hands and drag me out of the store. Alas, he didn't. He stood there thinking where we should go to dinner and why the hell is it taking me so long to buy a stupid game.
"Wait," Stew said, "You should buy this. It has The Sims 2 and the Holiday Stuff expansion pack. Why would anyone buy them separate when they are both here for only $10 more. Stupid."
Oh my god. Not just crack, holiday crack. I skipped to the register. I didn't want dinner, I wanted to go home and start installing.
It did not take long for me to rediscover why i have a love/hate relationship with The Sims. The Sims are very time consuming and like pets they must be trained when to eat, sleep, bathe and go to work. Being unemployed and playing Sims while polishing off a pot of coffee doesn't exactly give me the right to start running other people's lives. But, hell if i tried.
Sims 2 is like 900 times better than Sims. It is much more advanced and your characters eventually learn when to pee, poop, eat, go to work or bathe. Altho' sometimes when one of my Sim hears the horn for her job, she immediately runs to the living room to watch TV. That would be my favorite Sim, Stony Burner. More on Stony later. The new sims even get fat, lose weight and have sex. They also have aspiration meters so you can start your Sim off with high ror low aspirations from birth. But they whine a lot when they don't reach their goals.
So, i am addicted and what does Stew go ahead and do?
He buys me more exansion packs for Christmas. I got Sims University where i can send them to college and make them join fraternities or sororities. Sims Open for business which is a really involved game about having your Sims starts businesses and buld empires. And, Sims Glamour Life where I can buy them more expensive funky stuff.
I'm in Sims Hell.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Happy New year
Happy 2007!
I know. I have been slacking. I promise to be better. That is my New Year's resolution. With my nephews off from school this past week and holiday stuff I barely had a moment to myself. And yesterday was a great start to 2007. My crawlspace received a nice healthy dose of water. Stew was going down there anyway to retrieve the Christmas bins so I could undecorate. His, "uh oh Lulu, we got some water down here" started a 12-hour project that included a shop-vac, trips to Goodwill to unload some junk and Target to get bins for more junk and no rest for the wicked. Tonight, after the floor dries, we're planning on putting the rest of the bins down there so my dining room looks less like a storage facility and more like a place we would eat if it had a TV. We lead such an exciting life.
Christmas was fun. Stew and I cheated by opening up a few presents early because we couldn't contain ourselves. Plus, I wanted to wear the jammies i knew were under the tree when I woke up Christmas morning. The only way to do that was to open them Saturday night. Stew got me a whole bunch of Sims 2 expansion packs and I am so addicted that my digital exploits deserve a blog of their own. The Chronicles of Stony Burner and her father, Rad Burner.
Some highlights of my days since I last wrote:
1.) well, Stew unveiled that surprise he has been holding over my head for months now. Christmas night, I was presented with a red bag. Inside the red bag were two envelopes and a wrapped cd. Envelope #1 contained a menu to a restaurant called The View. It had the same logo as the show so I was shocked that stew would give me tickets to see The View. But the logo just happened to be a coincidence. The View is a restaurant in the Marriott hotel in Times Square that spins and overlooks Times Square. The second envelope contained tickets to see Avenue Q. Yay! Dirty puppets. The cd was the soundtrack so we could hear what we were getting ourselves into. The city was a bit crazed but the evening was really fun and nice. I will post pics to my smugmug page soon.
2.) I think I found my invitations. After spending a few hours looking through books with my mom, I finally found something I like online. My mom is against ordering them online eventho they cost way less because there is not store overhead so she insisted we go to a stationery story. It's her dime so fine with me. This store carried the line of invites but did not have the book that contained the sample of the invite. But, they got it in for me within a few days. Just to show you what a rip off everything wedding is. I found the invites online for $189 per 150. That is just the invites, don't even get started on envelopes, response cards, reception cards and placecards. At the store they want $189 per 100. Uhhhhh.... I'm going to mention this to them when I go to order them and I may have to add a few things in like a design on the placecards in order to get a deal but I WILL get a deal.
3.) Unemployment offers training courses for computer programs like PowerPoint, Excel and Access. They are not super in-depth but if you have half a brain you can figure it out. So, I took a PP one because i see that one mentioned a lot. The first day I went the computers weren't working. It took the instructor an hour to get through one slide. I suggested she should reboot the computers but she looked at me like I had six heads. She was probably thinking, "I am the employed one here missy, if you knew anything you would have a job like me." So, after wasting a couple of hours just watching her, the two other ladies an I started a revolt and walked out. When we went back on Thursday the instructor said she rebooted the computers and they were working much better now.
4.) I gained 10 lbs over the holidays. Every year I do my indulgence routine where I avoid the scale for 10 - 12 days during the holidays and eat whatever I want. I have actually been doing this for a while (eating whatever i want). Anyway, in the 2.5 weeks or so of debauchery and scale avoidance, I gained 10 lbs. That is almost a size so believe me, I feel it in my clothes. Lucky for me, once I get my sorry ass back on track, I can lose it almost as fast as I gained it. I already lost 3 since Wednesday. I'll lose it all just in time for PMS week to start when I live on chocolate, salad and carbs. But, with only 195 more days until I have to fit into my dress, I better swap out the carbs and chocolate for more salads and lean meats.
Back to my Sims
I know. I have been slacking. I promise to be better. That is my New Year's resolution. With my nephews off from school this past week and holiday stuff I barely had a moment to myself. And yesterday was a great start to 2007. My crawlspace received a nice healthy dose of water. Stew was going down there anyway to retrieve the Christmas bins so I could undecorate. His, "uh oh Lulu, we got some water down here" started a 12-hour project that included a shop-vac, trips to Goodwill to unload some junk and Target to get bins for more junk and no rest for the wicked. Tonight, after the floor dries, we're planning on putting the rest of the bins down there so my dining room looks less like a storage facility and more like a place we would eat if it had a TV. We lead such an exciting life.
Christmas was fun. Stew and I cheated by opening up a few presents early because we couldn't contain ourselves. Plus, I wanted to wear the jammies i knew were under the tree when I woke up Christmas morning. The only way to do that was to open them Saturday night. Stew got me a whole bunch of Sims 2 expansion packs and I am so addicted that my digital exploits deserve a blog of their own. The Chronicles of Stony Burner and her father, Rad Burner.
Some highlights of my days since I last wrote:
1.) well, Stew unveiled that surprise he has been holding over my head for months now. Christmas night, I was presented with a red bag. Inside the red bag were two envelopes and a wrapped cd. Envelope #1 contained a menu to a restaurant called The View. It had the same logo as the show so I was shocked that stew would give me tickets to see The View. But the logo just happened to be a coincidence. The View is a restaurant in the Marriott hotel in Times Square that spins and overlooks Times Square. The second envelope contained tickets to see Avenue Q. Yay! Dirty puppets. The cd was the soundtrack so we could hear what we were getting ourselves into. The city was a bit crazed but the evening was really fun and nice. I will post pics to my smugmug page soon.
2.) I think I found my invitations. After spending a few hours looking through books with my mom, I finally found something I like online. My mom is against ordering them online eventho they cost way less because there is not store overhead so she insisted we go to a stationery story. It's her dime so fine with me. This store carried the line of invites but did not have the book that contained the sample of the invite. But, they got it in for me within a few days. Just to show you what a rip off everything wedding is. I found the invites online for $189 per 150. That is just the invites, don't even get started on envelopes, response cards, reception cards and placecards. At the store they want $189 per 100. Uhhhhh.... I'm going to mention this to them when I go to order them and I may have to add a few things in like a design on the placecards in order to get a deal but I WILL get a deal.
3.) Unemployment offers training courses for computer programs like PowerPoint, Excel and Access. They are not super in-depth but if you have half a brain you can figure it out. So, I took a PP one because i see that one mentioned a lot. The first day I went the computers weren't working. It took the instructor an hour to get through one slide. I suggested she should reboot the computers but she looked at me like I had six heads. She was probably thinking, "I am the employed one here missy, if you knew anything you would have a job like me." So, after wasting a couple of hours just watching her, the two other ladies an I started a revolt and walked out. When we went back on Thursday the instructor said she rebooted the computers and they were working much better now.
4.) I gained 10 lbs over the holidays. Every year I do my indulgence routine where I avoid the scale for 10 - 12 days during the holidays and eat whatever I want. I have actually been doing this for a while (eating whatever i want). Anyway, in the 2.5 weeks or so of debauchery and scale avoidance, I gained 10 lbs. That is almost a size so believe me, I feel it in my clothes. Lucky for me, once I get my sorry ass back on track, I can lose it almost as fast as I gained it. I already lost 3 since Wednesday. I'll lose it all just in time for PMS week to start when I live on chocolate, salad and carbs. But, with only 195 more days until I have to fit into my dress, I better swap out the carbs and chocolate for more salads and lean meats.
Back to my Sims
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
The "sell by" date on sushi isn't a suggestion. It's an order!
I get cravings for sushi. Actually i get a craving for the wasabi-soy mustardy looking mixture I like to plunge my sushi rolls into. Yum. Something about that feeling right when it hits the tip of your tongue and shoots hell through your nose that i need every now and then. Plus, anyone who has seen me eat knows I keep a fork in one hand and the salt shaker in the other/ I love me some salt. Oh yes I do. After you gasp in horror as I salt my roastbeef sandwiches after every bite, I will tell you I have to eat salt. It is doctor recommended. I have to eat it because my blood pressure is so low if i don't, i will be dizzy.
It's a lie.
My blood pressure is really low but my doctor didn't order me to shake it on everything like a salty Nor-Easter me to. He did say that it certainly wouldn't hurt me since I drank 3 liters of water a day and my blood pressure is so low, but he didn't write it in my chart or anything.
And, as you know what I have been going through the past few days with things not being in your chart like they should like Codeine prescriptions then it MUST not be law. Btw, I managed to get 6 pills out of my PCP. Thank you very much. Oh, and her jackass of an assistant called me the following day leaving the test results for someone else on my machine. I will have killer cramps but at least Kathy has a normal result for her bone density tests and her hip growth for the year was good.
Anyway, Stew asked me last night why I don't buy sushi in Stop & Shop. I will at Stew Leonard's tho and usually when I buy store-bought sushi, it's vegetables or imitation crab, something that can't kill me. Otherwise, ewwwwwwww.
Today, I went to Port Chester to get m aunt and uncle a giftcard to a movie theater they frequent. let me tell you, Port Chester has become a shopping mecca. In one shopping center there is a BIG cine-plex movie theater with two restaurants attached, a Costco, Marshall's, DSW, Michael's Arts & Crafts, some other shoe store with discount shoes and a Stop & Shop. All they are missing is a Home Goods and I could live there in the parking lot. Oh, it's a free parking lot too. Even for the movies. Any time you go not just between the hours of 1 and 4:30.
Because S&S was right there, I figured I may as well pick up a few things. Stew and I were talking about having stuffed salmon Thursday night. Why we are thinking about this with an all-you-can-eat fish-filled Christmas Eve in a few days is beyond my comprehension. I usually get it from Stew Leonard's or Costco. Costco was right there but I don't have a card. Stew shares a membership with his friend Kenny so Kenny has card #2. I can use Stew's but i don't know if they are going to bust my chops because we're not married and have totally different names still. So, eventho I can go at times when Costco is virtually empty like mid-day, I can't. We have to wait until Stew gets home at 6:15 and then eat something really fast or go through Costco hungry which you NEVER want to do because at that time, they have stopped handing out samples. You'll have to take out a second mortgage to pay your bill that night.
Man, i am tangent girl today. Wait until I blog about my Sims.
Anyway, I cruised by the seafood dept and spotted stuffed salmon. They looked good so I looked at the sell-by date. It said, the 18th. People, today is the 20th. Sell by Dec. 18. Now, i know they didn't mean Dec. 18 of 2007. I threw the package down. I wanted to throw it at the 15 year-old behind behind the counter but resisted. I wanted to show her that shit was supposed to be sold 2 days ago and ask for something fresher. But I knew, she would go right into the backroom, and just make a new label for it. Not chancing that one. Then it hit me. the craving for wasabi-soy mixture of death. I wandered over to the sushi. Again, those were supposed to be sold by the 19th. Ewwwwwww.... I found one that appeared to be the freshest (sell by the 21. It was probably just restamped) and it was veggies so I knew I wasn't entering level orange ecoli danger. I chose that one. I was feeling risky.
But the 18th?
Ewwww.
It's a lie.
My blood pressure is really low but my doctor didn't order me to shake it on everything like a salty Nor-Easter me to. He did say that it certainly wouldn't hurt me since I drank 3 liters of water a day and my blood pressure is so low, but he didn't write it in my chart or anything.
And, as you know what I have been going through the past few days with things not being in your chart like they should like Codeine prescriptions then it MUST not be law. Btw, I managed to get 6 pills out of my PCP. Thank you very much. Oh, and her jackass of an assistant called me the following day leaving the test results for someone else on my machine. I will have killer cramps but at least Kathy has a normal result for her bone density tests and her hip growth for the year was good.
Anyway, Stew asked me last night why I don't buy sushi in Stop & Shop. I will at Stew Leonard's tho and usually when I buy store-bought sushi, it's vegetables or imitation crab, something that can't kill me. Otherwise, ewwwwwwww.
Today, I went to Port Chester to get m aunt and uncle a giftcard to a movie theater they frequent. let me tell you, Port Chester has become a shopping mecca. In one shopping center there is a BIG cine-plex movie theater with two restaurants attached, a Costco, Marshall's, DSW, Michael's Arts & Crafts, some other shoe store with discount shoes and a Stop & Shop. All they are missing is a Home Goods and I could live there in the parking lot. Oh, it's a free parking lot too. Even for the movies. Any time you go not just between the hours of 1 and 4:30.
Because S&S was right there, I figured I may as well pick up a few things. Stew and I were talking about having stuffed salmon Thursday night. Why we are thinking about this with an all-you-can-eat fish-filled Christmas Eve in a few days is beyond my comprehension. I usually get it from Stew Leonard's or Costco. Costco was right there but I don't have a card. Stew shares a membership with his friend Kenny so Kenny has card #2. I can use Stew's but i don't know if they are going to bust my chops because we're not married and have totally different names still. So, eventho I can go at times when Costco is virtually empty like mid-day, I can't. We have to wait until Stew gets home at 6:15 and then eat something really fast or go through Costco hungry which you NEVER want to do because at that time, they have stopped handing out samples. You'll have to take out a second mortgage to pay your bill that night.
Man, i am tangent girl today. Wait until I blog about my Sims.
Anyway, I cruised by the seafood dept and spotted stuffed salmon. They looked good so I looked at the sell-by date. It said, the 18th. People, today is the 20th. Sell by Dec. 18. Now, i know they didn't mean Dec. 18 of 2007. I threw the package down. I wanted to throw it at the 15 year-old behind behind the counter but resisted. I wanted to show her that shit was supposed to be sold 2 days ago and ask for something fresher. But I knew, she would go right into the backroom, and just make a new label for it. Not chancing that one. Then it hit me. the craving for wasabi-soy mixture of death. I wandered over to the sushi. Again, those were supposed to be sold by the 19th. Ewwwwwww.... I found one that appeared to be the freshest (sell by the 21. It was probably just restamped) and it was veggies so I knew I wasn't entering level orange ecoli danger. I chose that one. I was feeling risky.
But the 18th?
Ewwww.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Canadians have it made
So, I got in touch with my doctor's office yesterday. Actually, I spoke to her assistant who was about as helpful as a brick. Apparently, the fact that i have been working on the same bottle of codeine since February 2006 makes me look like a junky now that I need a refill almost a year later. She asked me 2,000 questions before telling me that my former doctor (who has since retired from that practice) was the one who prescribed it to me and not the current doctor.
Let me tell you something about this practice. It's one of those places where they have 4 doctors on staff and I don't think I ever saw the same doctor twice. Seeing that they all worked together, under one umbrella, if one doctor prescribed something for you then all the doctors should see that in your chart and honor it. But that seems to make too much sense. I was told yesterday that the doctor I saw last only wrote in my chart that I should continue my extra strength Tylenol and never said anything about Tylenol with codeine. I was also told that this particular doctor doesn't like to prescribe pain meds. I explained my no insurance having case to the assistant so coming in so that the Dr. could see me before giving me what i can get on the Internet without a script was not an option i could afford right now and she was like stone on the other end of the phone. Jesus lady, it's Christmas, have a freaking heart.
Let me tell you something about my cramps. Thanks to 20 years of having irregular periods, my uterus seems to be making up for it now. I have about two days where I pass out from the loss of blood and can barely function because my cramps are so severe. They're made worse by the IUD which gets pushed into my ovaries when they swell to what I figure to be the size of watermelons. I can only describe the pain as feeling like someone is sawing me in half. I wish this pain could be held at bay with extra strength Tylenol but I would have to start taking 3 every 4 hours now for it to have any impact on my pain and frankly that would give me an ulcer before I even got the Aunt Flow drop-by. Why bother when all i have to do is take a shot of Malloxx and two T3s a day for just two days?
So, today, I found Tylenol 3s that i can get online from Canada for super cheap. The only problem is a $30 a month fee to join this site and a 1 - 4 week wait on the pills. The deal turns out to be not such a deal after all and the wait will not help me when my period is 7 days away. So, I looked at the bottle again today and noticed that this doctor's name happens to be on the bottle as the prescriber. So, WTF? Why isn't it in my chart. I called her assistant back to inform her of this and advise her to talk to the Dr. again. We'll see what happens.
I may have to move to Canada.
Let me tell you something about this practice. It's one of those places where they have 4 doctors on staff and I don't think I ever saw the same doctor twice. Seeing that they all worked together, under one umbrella, if one doctor prescribed something for you then all the doctors should see that in your chart and honor it. But that seems to make too much sense. I was told yesterday that the doctor I saw last only wrote in my chart that I should continue my extra strength Tylenol and never said anything about Tylenol with codeine. I was also told that this particular doctor doesn't like to prescribe pain meds. I explained my no insurance having case to the assistant so coming in so that the Dr. could see me before giving me what i can get on the Internet without a script was not an option i could afford right now and she was like stone on the other end of the phone. Jesus lady, it's Christmas, have a freaking heart.
Let me tell you something about my cramps. Thanks to 20 years of having irregular periods, my uterus seems to be making up for it now. I have about two days where I pass out from the loss of blood and can barely function because my cramps are so severe. They're made worse by the IUD which gets pushed into my ovaries when they swell to what I figure to be the size of watermelons. I can only describe the pain as feeling like someone is sawing me in half. I wish this pain could be held at bay with extra strength Tylenol but I would have to start taking 3 every 4 hours now for it to have any impact on my pain and frankly that would give me an ulcer before I even got the Aunt Flow drop-by. Why bother when all i have to do is take a shot of Malloxx and two T3s a day for just two days?
So, today, I found Tylenol 3s that i can get online from Canada for super cheap. The only problem is a $30 a month fee to join this site and a 1 - 4 week wait on the pills. The deal turns out to be not such a deal after all and the wait will not help me when my period is 7 days away. So, I looked at the bottle again today and noticed that this doctor's name happens to be on the bottle as the prescriber. So, WTF? Why isn't it in my chart. I called her assistant back to inform her of this and advise her to talk to the Dr. again. We'll see what happens.
I may have to move to Canada.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
All I want for Christmas is some insurance
I have this foot pain.
It really hurts.
This pain travels all the way up the top of my foot, through my ankle and into the core of my shin with every step i take. I don't remember when this pain first occurred or if i did anything to cause it. All I know is it hurts.
And I can't take my insurance-less ass to the doctors because I decided to try my luck this time and reject the COBRA offer because any other time I paid for it, I paid to never use it. Now that I went with a cheap insurance (six months for one month of what COBRA wanted) means I have a $1000 deductible. I already went to the doctor once already and even had to get a script.
It could be a blood clot. In which case I don't want to screw around. Or, it could just be because I sit at this computer for hours at a time with my feet all cocked up beneath me. The veins are looking a bit bulging and the ankle somewhat swollen but that is how this foot has been since I busted it in the 8th grade falling down a flight of cement steps. Yeah, that was graceful. That one slip caused a variety of issues in this leg but busting my right kneecap left that right leg in pristine condition. Go figure. Just lucky I guess.
And yesterday, I thought I was getting a "yeasty beav." I haven't had one in several years and I write that off to not consuming a diet high in chocolate and white carbs. I thought, "oh crap, do you know what a trip to the gyno is going to cost as well as medicine? I may as well start selling my eggs." But alas, I found the itch culprit and everything is fine. However, I did notice my Tylenol with codeine script is running low and Aunt Flow is only a mere 8 days away. So, i have to call my doctor anyway and beg her for a script with hopes she doesn't need to see me first. last time they wanted to see me and i managed to convince her she didn't need my $20 co-pay to write me a script. I literally need 6 pills, enough for two of my worst days. It's not like I'm selling this crap on the street corners. I have hydrocodone and dilaudin for that. That crap gives me a headache and constipates me for weeks.
I am stalking my doctor's office. they said they are open from 8:30 to 4:30 but closed between 12 and 1 for lunch. It's 1:15, where are they? I'd be less apt to do this if I had something else to do but all I have to do is go to the Post Office and stand there in the huge line of people waiting to mail Christmas packages because I have to mail half.com crap who seem to spread out their purchases enough to make me go to the P.O. at least three times a week.
Ohhhhh yes. PMS.
Great, now my doctor's office phone is busy.
Poop.
It really hurts.
This pain travels all the way up the top of my foot, through my ankle and into the core of my shin with every step i take. I don't remember when this pain first occurred or if i did anything to cause it. All I know is it hurts.
And I can't take my insurance-less ass to the doctors because I decided to try my luck this time and reject the COBRA offer because any other time I paid for it, I paid to never use it. Now that I went with a cheap insurance (six months for one month of what COBRA wanted) means I have a $1000 deductible. I already went to the doctor once already and even had to get a script.
It could be a blood clot. In which case I don't want to screw around. Or, it could just be because I sit at this computer for hours at a time with my feet all cocked up beneath me. The veins are looking a bit bulging and the ankle somewhat swollen but that is how this foot has been since I busted it in the 8th grade falling down a flight of cement steps. Yeah, that was graceful. That one slip caused a variety of issues in this leg but busting my right kneecap left that right leg in pristine condition. Go figure. Just lucky I guess.
And yesterday, I thought I was getting a "yeasty beav." I haven't had one in several years and I write that off to not consuming a diet high in chocolate and white carbs. I thought, "oh crap, do you know what a trip to the gyno is going to cost as well as medicine? I may as well start selling my eggs." But alas, I found the itch culprit and everything is fine. However, I did notice my Tylenol with codeine script is running low and Aunt Flow is only a mere 8 days away. So, i have to call my doctor anyway and beg her for a script with hopes she doesn't need to see me first. last time they wanted to see me and i managed to convince her she didn't need my $20 co-pay to write me a script. I literally need 6 pills, enough for two of my worst days. It's not like I'm selling this crap on the street corners. I have hydrocodone and dilaudin for that. That crap gives me a headache and constipates me for weeks.
I am stalking my doctor's office. they said they are open from 8:30 to 4:30 but closed between 12 and 1 for lunch. It's 1:15, where are they? I'd be less apt to do this if I had something else to do but all I have to do is go to the Post Office and stand there in the huge line of people waiting to mail Christmas packages because I have to mail half.com crap who seem to spread out their purchases enough to make me go to the P.O. at least three times a week.
Ohhhhh yes. PMS.
Great, now my doctor's office phone is busy.
Poop.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Pay-lo J. Lo
I don't know why I dislike Jennifer Lopez so much other than I just do. For some reason I can't explain. Maybe it's her shitty movies. Maybe it was the whole Bennifer thing. Maybe it was her crossover from dancing to acting to singing to clothing designer to perfume creator. Maybe I am just jealous.
However, I always get taken by this broad.
A few years ago, I was walking down the hall at work to go to the ladies room. A womyn passed me and I smelled her perfume. I was taken aback by how great it smelled so I asked her who made the perfume she was wearing.
"It's Glow by J. Lo" she said.
I cringed.
"I know," the womyn said. "I hate her too but I love how this smells."
I was determined to find an equally awesome scent. I discovered Vera Wang and despite it's pricey tag, I put it on my Christmas list and laughed every time I saw a bottle of Glow at T.J. Maxx for a fraction of my Vera Wang.
A year or so later, I was browsing the lingerie section at Macy*s and came upon a great piece that was perfect for a body conscious girl like me. It was long enough to hide my problem zones yet sexy enough to still light some fires. I jumped for joy and rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. That is when I saw it - the J. Lo tag. I thought long and hard but ultimately put it back on the rack.
One night while talking to Maria, I mentioned this issue.
"Oh my god," she screamed, "I know exactly what you mean." Maria faced the same issue when J Lo came out with these adorable empire waist cami jammies she wanted but couldn't bring herself to buy.
Hating J Lo means we missed out on some really cute things. Damn her.
A couple of weeks ago, my mom took me to Lord & Taylor to buy a new coat because my other coats just weren't warm enough. After seeing the price of the only coat I liked, I decided that I would rather have the money to pay for the new computer than coat I didn't really need if i owned a few heavy sweater to wear under the coats I already have. Besides, none of them really made me "ohh" and "ahhh." The following night Stew and I hit Macy*s to do some Christmas shopping. I dragged him to the coat department to see if anything struck my fancy.
I spotted it from across the department. A heather green pea coat, tailored to perfection with enough funky tabs on it to make it look less like a military coat.
I gasped.
Seriously.
I gasped.
The cuteness of the coat took my breath away. It was nothing that I told my mom I was looking for. It was not long and it was no thicker than my black wool dress coat but it was cute as hell. Big buttons, princess seams, tailored back and side and a hood!
I ran over to it. I don't think Stew ever saw me move so fast but I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the white and pink label read "J. Lo." Ugh!
I jumped up and down (yes, in the middle of the store) screaming "NO NO NO NO NO" stomping my feet.
"What's the matter?" Stew asked, eager to get what we came for (wine glasses) and get the hell out of the mall before he turned into a pumpkin.
"It's J.LO!" I said.
I may as well have said it to a brick wall because all I got was an empty stare.
"I hate J. Lo," I explained. "I NEVER buy her things. Ever. And do you know how many great things I passed up on?"
"Ok, then" Stew said, "Are we done here?"
I ignored him because I was too busy examining the jacket hoping and praying to find something about it I hated. Something that was a deal breaker. Something like a gold glitter design on a pocket. Nothing. Not a thing.
'I'll try it and maybe it won't fit or the double breasted action will make me look like the broad side of a barn," I said taking it off the hanger.
Not only did it fit perfectly but looked great.
I looked at the price, "$220? Is this broad nuts."
Stew pointed to the 40% off sign and reminded me I had a 20% off coupon in my pocket.
'Still,' I said, 'It's too much money."
But I scanned the price anyway, it was actually 50% off and with my coupon, that means its 70% off.
"I'll buy it for you," Stew offered. "I was going to get you a big gift but wasn't sure what to get so if you want the coat, I will buy it for you."
Ohhh, tempting. And so ensued a 10 minute debate where I tried to justify walking out of the store with the coat. Technically, I wouldn't be buying it since it was Stew's money, but I would be wearing it on my person. And Maria would kill me. But she even broke her "I will never buy from Walmart because I saw some movie about how awful their employees were treated" because she was thirsty and the water was right there by the register where she was standing with me.
I walked away. I came back. I walked away. I came back.
I took it off the rack and carried it around trying to force myself to find something equally as cute and as much of a deal to get instead. But there was no such thing so I let Stew buy it for me for Christmas and I have not taken it off since.
Damn J Lo.
However, I always get taken by this broad.
A few years ago, I was walking down the hall at work to go to the ladies room. A womyn passed me and I smelled her perfume. I was taken aback by how great it smelled so I asked her who made the perfume she was wearing.
"It's Glow by J. Lo" she said.
I cringed.
"I know," the womyn said. "I hate her too but I love how this smells."
I was determined to find an equally awesome scent. I discovered Vera Wang and despite it's pricey tag, I put it on my Christmas list and laughed every time I saw a bottle of Glow at T.J. Maxx for a fraction of my Vera Wang.
A year or so later, I was browsing the lingerie section at Macy*s and came upon a great piece that was perfect for a body conscious girl like me. It was long enough to hide my problem zones yet sexy enough to still light some fires. I jumped for joy and rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. That is when I saw it - the J. Lo tag. I thought long and hard but ultimately put it back on the rack.
One night while talking to Maria, I mentioned this issue.
"Oh my god," she screamed, "I know exactly what you mean." Maria faced the same issue when J Lo came out with these adorable empire waist cami jammies she wanted but couldn't bring herself to buy.
Hating J Lo means we missed out on some really cute things. Damn her.
A couple of weeks ago, my mom took me to Lord & Taylor to buy a new coat because my other coats just weren't warm enough. After seeing the price of the only coat I liked, I decided that I would rather have the money to pay for the new computer than coat I didn't really need if i owned a few heavy sweater to wear under the coats I already have. Besides, none of them really made me "ohh" and "ahhh." The following night Stew and I hit Macy*s to do some Christmas shopping. I dragged him to the coat department to see if anything struck my fancy.
I spotted it from across the department. A heather green pea coat, tailored to perfection with enough funky tabs on it to make it look less like a military coat.
I gasped.
Seriously.
I gasped.
The cuteness of the coat took my breath away. It was nothing that I told my mom I was looking for. It was not long and it was no thicker than my black wool dress coat but it was cute as hell. Big buttons, princess seams, tailored back and side and a hood!
I ran over to it. I don't think Stew ever saw me move so fast but I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the white and pink label read "J. Lo." Ugh!
I jumped up and down (yes, in the middle of the store) screaming "NO NO NO NO NO" stomping my feet.
"What's the matter?" Stew asked, eager to get what we came for (wine glasses) and get the hell out of the mall before he turned into a pumpkin.
"It's J.LO!" I said.
I may as well have said it to a brick wall because all I got was an empty stare.
"I hate J. Lo," I explained. "I NEVER buy her things. Ever. And do you know how many great things I passed up on?"
"Ok, then" Stew said, "Are we done here?"
I ignored him because I was too busy examining the jacket hoping and praying to find something about it I hated. Something that was a deal breaker. Something like a gold glitter design on a pocket. Nothing. Not a thing.
'I'll try it and maybe it won't fit or the double breasted action will make me look like the broad side of a barn," I said taking it off the hanger.
Not only did it fit perfectly but looked great.
I looked at the price, "$220? Is this broad nuts."
Stew pointed to the 40% off sign and reminded me I had a 20% off coupon in my pocket.
'Still,' I said, 'It's too much money."
But I scanned the price anyway, it was actually 50% off and with my coupon, that means its 70% off.
"I'll buy it for you," Stew offered. "I was going to get you a big gift but wasn't sure what to get so if you want the coat, I will buy it for you."
Ohhh, tempting. And so ensued a 10 minute debate where I tried to justify walking out of the store with the coat. Technically, I wouldn't be buying it since it was Stew's money, but I would be wearing it on my person. And Maria would kill me. But she even broke her "I will never buy from Walmart because I saw some movie about how awful their employees were treated" because she was thirsty and the water was right there by the register where she was standing with me.
I walked away. I came back. I walked away. I came back.
I took it off the rack and carried it around trying to force myself to find something equally as cute and as much of a deal to get instead. But there was no such thing so I let Stew buy it for me for Christmas and I have not taken it off since.
Damn J Lo.
Monday, December 11, 2006
God Save the Queen . . . and Cher
Saturday was a fun filled sugar-fest which means I won't lose a pound this week. In fact, I will only stay in the green (by a hair) if I manage not to gain. Most of the afternoon I was at a cookie swap where I was having so much fun decorating cookies that I narrowly forgot to swap. Then it was off to a party where I had an absolute blast talking to two gay men.
I'm just going to put this out there so there is no misunderstanding. I LOVE gay men. LOVE them. Why? Because they are creative bitches and I just do.
While I was hanging out with my new friends, another girl got in on the mix. She is getting married too so the wedding talk started. Now, normally, I hate when wedding talk overtakes my conversations with new people but when you're at a party where you only really know the host and someone else is also planning a wedding, it becomes the easy ice breaker. However, when it comes to wedding talk, it more than breaks the ice, it chisels away at it until the one piece of ice breaks off and sinks or floats away. It can go on forever. You have no clue what this person does for a living, but you know every minute detail of their wedding.
Go ahead . . . ask me what her centerpieces look like.
Yeah, see.
Now ask me what mine look like and wait for it . . . . wait.
No clue
Discussing marriage in front of a gay man is a slippery slope. Some think, "oh wow, yeah, this is too straight of a conversation for me, I'm going to get some more cheese." And some think, "ohhh girl, let's talk weddings . . . and stay away from the cheese, we have to stay slim for photos." I was talking to the latter. Yay!
While I was telling them about how my friend and her fiancee expressed themselves through music at their wedding down to a heavy metal quartet during the ceremony and cocktail hour, Michael blurted out his plan.
And I do have to say, I LOVE this plan.
"I want a classy affair," he said, "I want it somewhere really nice, outside, black tie with . . . . "
His partner interrupted "He wants Cher."
"To sing?" I asked, "I can't imagine how much she costs."
Um, yeah, like Cher is doing weddings these days. I mean, maybe, since gay men kept her somewhat of an icon, she might do it for them but if I wanted to rent her out so she could sing "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves", it would cost a mint. No doubt. Yup, all of this actually went through my head to justify my stupid question but it was too late, it was already out there.
"No," Michael said,"I want a black gospel choir to sing. I really want Cher impersonators to usher people to their seats. But not just Cher, 80s Cher."
Ok. Wow! See, that's specific. You're not just asking for Cher impersonators, you are special ordering them. Where was Stew when I had proof that I'm not the only person who special orders subjecting myself to lord knows what according to his theory?
Stew's Special Ordering Theory: If you special order anything, not only is it going to be fucked up, but somewhere between the kitchen and your table, your food will get spit on.
It's one thing to special order some eggs but we're talking people. We're talking Cher impersonators. Classic!
Michael elaborated. "I want the works. Big feather hats. I want the ushers to take the old ladies by the arm and say I'm going to show you to your seat, bitch."
I'm just going to put this out there so there is no misunderstanding. I LOVE gay men. LOVE them. Why? Because they are creative bitches and I just do.
While I was hanging out with my new friends, another girl got in on the mix. She is getting married too so the wedding talk started. Now, normally, I hate when wedding talk overtakes my conversations with new people but when you're at a party where you only really know the host and someone else is also planning a wedding, it becomes the easy ice breaker. However, when it comes to wedding talk, it more than breaks the ice, it chisels away at it until the one piece of ice breaks off and sinks or floats away. It can go on forever. You have no clue what this person does for a living, but you know every minute detail of their wedding.
Go ahead . . . ask me what her centerpieces look like.
Yeah, see.
Now ask me what mine look like and wait for it . . . . wait.
Discussing marriage in front of a gay man is a slippery slope. Some think, "oh wow, yeah, this is too straight of a conversation for me, I'm going to get some more cheese." And some think, "ohhh girl, let's talk weddings . . . and stay away from the cheese, we have to stay slim for photos." I was talking to the latter. Yay!
While I was telling them about how my friend and her fiancee expressed themselves through music at their wedding down to a heavy metal quartet during the ceremony and cocktail hour, Michael blurted out his plan.
And I do have to say, I LOVE this plan.
"I want a classy affair," he said, "I want it somewhere really nice, outside, black tie with . . . . "
His partner interrupted "He wants Cher."
"To sing?" I asked, "I can't imagine how much she costs."
Um, yeah, like Cher is doing weddings these days. I mean, maybe, since gay men kept her somewhat of an icon, she might do it for them but if I wanted to rent her out so she could sing "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves", it would cost a mint. No doubt. Yup, all of this actually went through my head to justify my stupid question but it was too late, it was already out there.
"No," Michael said,"I want a black gospel choir to sing. I really want Cher impersonators to usher people to their seats. But not just Cher, 80s Cher."
Ok. Wow! See, that's specific. You're not just asking for Cher impersonators, you are special ordering them. Where was Stew when I had proof that I'm not the only person who special orders subjecting myself to lord knows what according to his theory?
Stew's Special Ordering Theory: If you special order anything, not only is it going to be fucked up, but somewhere between the kitchen and your table, your food will get spit on.
It's one thing to special order some eggs but we're talking people. We're talking Cher impersonators. Classic!
Michael elaborated. "I want the works. Big feather hats. I want the ushers to take the old ladies by the arm and say I'm going to show you to your seat, bitch."
Thursday, December 07, 2006
So what if I dream the future and it's slightly off?
One morning I woke up pissed at Stew.
We didn't have a fight.
He didn't keep me up snoring/coughing/stirring around/stealing the covers.
He did nothing at all.
However, in my dream, he was very bad. He was the gigantic asshole that I waited for him to become our entire courtship but the giant asshole never surfaced. Lucky for him. But in my dream, wowie, the boy was pure evil.
It started out nice. Stew and I were dating and living together. Everything was good. The planets were aligned and in my favor. Then came our anniversary. See, Stew, the once party boy who was the life of any party he was invited to, has been, as he likes to put it, RUINED. Our anniversary falls on December 30. So, being that the next day is New years Eve, we usually do something cool that combines our anniversary and NYE. This is how we came to go to Philly last New Year's and Stew was in bed with me seconds after the ball dropped instead of being at some raging party probably passed out in the corner.
So, either way, he would have been asleep.
Back to my dream.
In my dream, Stew told me that he had to spend our Anniversary/NYE weekend with his other girlfriend, Hannah. Hannah was some tall, leggy Irish lass with long flame red hair. See, I harbor some secret fear that Stew is going to leave me some day for an Irish girl who drinks and parties and thinks books are something she can lay out like a makeshift dancefloor and dance a jig on. He told me his plans included taking Hannah to a Yankees game on NYE. Oh yeah, did I mention that Hannah, the anti-Lisa also loved baseball? I'm not sure what knotted me up more in the dream - that Stew was blowing me off for another girl or that he was blowing me off on our anniversary/NYE weekend. I don't remember much more of the dream but I remember waking up FUMING at Stew.
He was clueless as to why I was a rage-a-hol so I clued him in and he laughed and now it's a joke (to him). If he gets texted or is texting someone and I ask who it is, he says "Hannah." I hate the name. I can add it to my list of Heather and Dawn. I hate the name so much that i was torn when buying our favorite Costco item - Hannah's tatziki sauce. My boyfriend ain't going to be eating another womyn's sauce. Especially a tall leggy red headed Irish girl who now makes Greek delights. Oh hells to the no!
So, for the past few weeks Stew has been holding some surprise over my head. He had 4 possible days on the calendar when said surprise would happen but now it's narrowed down to Dec. 30th. I tried guessing it and tricking him into telling me but all my attempts were worthless.
This morning I wake up and check my email. There was an email from stew asking me if i wanted to go to a Ranger's game on New year's Eve. Apparently, some guy he worked with got an extra ticket and asked Stew but Stew didn't want to leave me alone on NYE unless maybe he could score another ticket and I could go.
Wow, it was like my dream except, unfortunately for Stew, Hannah was this angry racist guy that stew works with and not a tall, leggy red headed Irish lass. Hah! I was so overcome with joy that at last he wasn't dissing me for another broad that I almost said he could go without me. But I thought better of it and said i would only go "if they found a ticket" and "it wouldn't be my first choice of something to do on NYE is go to NYC when it is next to IMPOSSIBLE to catch a cab and encounter all the masses of drunk idiots being more idiotic because it's NYC and it's NYE." Hey, i just wanted to get my point across.
But about an hour later, I got an email from Stew telling me I was spared. The game was actually on Dec. 30th and we couldn't go because of my surprise.
Of course I had to ask if the game was really my surprise.
It's not. So I still don't know. Damn.
We didn't have a fight.
He didn't keep me up snoring/coughing/stirring around/stealing the covers.
He did nothing at all.
However, in my dream, he was very bad. He was the gigantic asshole that I waited for him to become our entire courtship but the giant asshole never surfaced. Lucky for him. But in my dream, wowie, the boy was pure evil.
It started out nice. Stew and I were dating and living together. Everything was good. The planets were aligned and in my favor. Then came our anniversary. See, Stew, the once party boy who was the life of any party he was invited to, has been, as he likes to put it, RUINED. Our anniversary falls on December 30. So, being that the next day is New years Eve, we usually do something cool that combines our anniversary and NYE. This is how we came to go to Philly last New Year's and Stew was in bed with me seconds after the ball dropped instead of being at some raging party probably passed out in the corner.
So, either way, he would have been asleep.
Back to my dream.
In my dream, Stew told me that he had to spend our Anniversary/NYE weekend with his other girlfriend, Hannah. Hannah was some tall, leggy Irish lass with long flame red hair. See, I harbor some secret fear that Stew is going to leave me some day for an Irish girl who drinks and parties and thinks books are something she can lay out like a makeshift dancefloor and dance a jig on. He told me his plans included taking Hannah to a Yankees game on NYE. Oh yeah, did I mention that Hannah, the anti-Lisa also loved baseball? I'm not sure what knotted me up more in the dream - that Stew was blowing me off for another girl or that he was blowing me off on our anniversary/NYE weekend. I don't remember much more of the dream but I remember waking up FUMING at Stew.
He was clueless as to why I was a rage-a-hol so I clued him in and he laughed and now it's a joke (to him). If he gets texted or is texting someone and I ask who it is, he says "Hannah." I hate the name. I can add it to my list of Heather and Dawn. I hate the name so much that i was torn when buying our favorite Costco item - Hannah's tatziki sauce. My boyfriend ain't going to be eating another womyn's sauce. Especially a tall leggy red headed Irish girl who now makes Greek delights. Oh hells to the no!
So, for the past few weeks Stew has been holding some surprise over my head. He had 4 possible days on the calendar when said surprise would happen but now it's narrowed down to Dec. 30th. I tried guessing it and tricking him into telling me but all my attempts were worthless.
This morning I wake up and check my email. There was an email from stew asking me if i wanted to go to a Ranger's game on New year's Eve. Apparently, some guy he worked with got an extra ticket and asked Stew but Stew didn't want to leave me alone on NYE unless maybe he could score another ticket and I could go.
Wow, it was like my dream except, unfortunately for Stew, Hannah was this angry racist guy that stew works with and not a tall, leggy red headed Irish lass. Hah! I was so overcome with joy that at last he wasn't dissing me for another broad that I almost said he could go without me. But I thought better of it and said i would only go "if they found a ticket" and "it wouldn't be my first choice of something to do on NYE is go to NYC when it is next to IMPOSSIBLE to catch a cab and encounter all the masses of drunk idiots being more idiotic because it's NYC and it's NYE." Hey, i just wanted to get my point across.
But about an hour later, I got an email from Stew telling me I was spared. The game was actually on Dec. 30th and we couldn't go because of my surprise.
Of course I had to ask if the game was really my surprise.
It's not. So I still don't know. Damn.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Enhance this!
Unemployment is at it again. Seriously, they make it impossible for you to get a job.
Yesterday, I got a letter in the mail. I was randomly (yeah right) selected to participate in a MANDATORY (Yes, it was in all caps, bold and italicized. They mean business) in an "Enhanced Re-employment Services Orientation" session.
Now, let's just pause to look at this. Enhanced means it's new and improved and all I know is when I collected unemployment the other three times I got laid off, they never once helped me find a job. In fact, all they ever caused me was grief. But hey, apparently I am not doing enough applying to three or four places a day and now UE wants to help me. Sign me up. What can I bring?
That is where things get tricky. I expected them to say bring a resume as they may have a resume workshop. That is useful. Or, bring a list of the jobs you have contacted so we know you're not just sitting home on your ass all day decorating for Christmas or playing online Scrabble. No, they asked me to bring "any information regarding previous job search assistance programs you have completed or are currently attending." Um . . . none of the above. I have nothing to bring to the table. Maybe I can borrow' Tim's T-shirt that says exactly that - "I BRING NOTHING TO THE TABLE." So, I have to show up empty-handed (except for the coffee I plan on toting) all the way in Bridgeport from 9 a.m. to noon. It sounds like their only enhancement is heavily based on whatever you bring to class and they are going to steal ideas from other programs.
When they learn i will be of no use to them, do you think they will realize they made a mistake and send me home. I bet they hold me there captive just to further torture me. I am convinced Unemployment is purgatory except they pay you (barely) for the time they spend torturing you but the second you step out of line, they are there to point out your mistake and start garnishing your wages. If you dare to speak out against their mistakes, you are laughed at and told you are wrong.
I just called. I had to. I wanted to make sure (I was hoping and praying) they didn't have (read: did indeed have) the wrong person. Alas, they did not. I was tempted to say that I could not make it. That I had open heart surgery scheduled for that day but they have my SSN# and can probably tell when I am lying. In fact, I think the second you register a claim with unemployment, the Labor Fairy plants a tracking device in your ear in the middle of the night and they know everything about you.
So, let's all cross our fingers that this job I have been trying out for pans out by the time I have to attend this class or at least I am going for my drug test that day so I can have a valid reason to call and say I can't make it. It's like jury duty I guess in which case I hope there is an amputee I can stare at again.
Yesterday, I got a letter in the mail. I was randomly (yeah right) selected to participate in a MANDATORY (Yes, it was in all caps, bold and italicized. They mean business) in an "Enhanced Re-employment Services Orientation" session.
Now, let's just pause to look at this. Enhanced means it's new and improved and all I know is when I collected unemployment the other three times I got laid off, they never once helped me find a job. In fact, all they ever caused me was grief. But hey, apparently I am not doing enough applying to three or four places a day and now UE wants to help me. Sign me up. What can I bring?
That is where things get tricky. I expected them to say bring a resume as they may have a resume workshop. That is useful. Or, bring a list of the jobs you have contacted so we know you're not just sitting home on your ass all day decorating for Christmas or playing online Scrabble. No, they asked me to bring "any information regarding previous job search assistance programs you have completed or are currently attending." Um . . . none of the above. I have nothing to bring to the table. Maybe I can borrow' Tim's T-shirt that says exactly that - "I BRING NOTHING TO THE TABLE." So, I have to show up empty-handed (except for the coffee I plan on toting) all the way in Bridgeport from 9 a.m. to noon. It sounds like their only enhancement is heavily based on whatever you bring to class and they are going to steal ideas from other programs.
When they learn i will be of no use to them, do you think they will realize they made a mistake and send me home. I bet they hold me there captive just to further torture me. I am convinced Unemployment is purgatory except they pay you (barely) for the time they spend torturing you but the second you step out of line, they are there to point out your mistake and start garnishing your wages. If you dare to speak out against their mistakes, you are laughed at and told you are wrong.
I just called. I had to. I wanted to make sure (I was hoping and praying) they didn't have (read: did indeed have) the wrong person. Alas, they did not. I was tempted to say that I could not make it. That I had open heart surgery scheduled for that day but they have my SSN# and can probably tell when I am lying. In fact, I think the second you register a claim with unemployment, the Labor Fairy plants a tracking device in your ear in the middle of the night and they know everything about you.
So, let's all cross our fingers that this job I have been trying out for pans out by the time I have to attend this class or at least I am going for my drug test that day so I can have a valid reason to call and say I can't make it. It's like jury duty I guess in which case I hope there is an amputee I can stare at again.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Type casting? Ask yourself, don't ask me.
I am amazed at how many of my friends go after guys and girls who are polar opposites of themselves and then get mad when that person doesn't get their humor or doesn't understand that if you don't pay your bills, your electricity may get turned off.
I have super responsible friends who own homes and have mortgages and pay their bills in full (crazy!) and on time actually write to girls who fully admit to being financially irresponsible. I think they find some charm in this at first with little realization that it will eventually grate their nerves. More than likely, when they are in the middle of watching a movie at her place and the powers gets shut off.
I'm not saying opposites attract. I am the perfect example of such strangeness occurring. I wouldn't say Stew and I are overflowing with things in common and the boy doesn't find me the least bit funny. Which really, when I am standing there dancing around, giddy with my own puns, how can you resist laughing. But if he walks in with an oversized pack of graph paper balancing on his head and says he has a new flying nun hat, I'm supposed to drop to the floor clenching my sides in a fit of hysterics. Umm.... no. But, despite our differences of opinion (mainly on the opinion that I'm funny) we have enough in common to make it work. Actually, it's all a lie. He tolerates (for some reason not yet known to science) what no other man could so that is how it works. Any sane man would have been worn down by now and run away. Maybe he is just as crazy as I am. Hmmm.... there is some food for thought.
What I am saying is everyone has their "sticking points" as to what makes someone girlfriend/boyfriend material. Someone who can't take care of themselves and lets their rent lapse is not the person you want tied to you for the long haul. My friend was wise enough to recognize this in a guy she dated for a bit. He took her out a couple of times and then started talking about how short his check was that week and could they just hang at home. One might let this slide IF the guy did not live at home and didn't have any rent to pay. But once she let it slide with this guy, they never went out again, despite her suggestions of a movie and dinner and despite her offers to treat. So, despite the fact that he turned her on more than any guy she has ever met, she cut him loose.
A friend of mine wrote me the other day. He was having some email banter with a girl he thought "probably too young and dumb" for him. So, he baited her by writing something that was ripe with innuendo and had way too many big words for her. When he showed me what he sent her I told him that she was going to miss that. "Wait," I said, "I think I just heard the plane fly by . . . and was that a honk?"
"Why am i always attracted to the stupid ones?" he asked.
I don't know. If I had the answer to that, do you think I would be home sitting on my unemployed ass trying to create the perfect egg salad? Do you think the highlight of my day would be seeing brown rice sushi at the grocery store? No. I would be self-employed, writing an insane book and charging $100 for it because it can only be found on the net. Oh wait, I guess that means i would have written The System.
Maybe the financially responsible soul seeks someone less responsible because that is how they wish they could be. Or, maybe they do it because they feel like they'll prove useful to that person if they are there to keep her in line or write out a check when her check bounces. Maybe the intelligent guy goes for the dumb girl because he harbors a secret desire that ignorance is bliss or maybe he is lazy and knows he doesn't always have to be smart or funny. Maybe the shy quiet guy goes for the outgoing girl so they don't have to worry about making small talk because she'll do it all.
I just feel bad because I can see my friends getting totally screwed over when they date their opposites. I can see it coming from a mile away.
Maybe I should go into fortune telling.
I have super responsible friends who own homes and have mortgages and pay their bills in full (crazy!) and on time actually write to girls who fully admit to being financially irresponsible. I think they find some charm in this at first with little realization that it will eventually grate their nerves. More than likely, when they are in the middle of watching a movie at her place and the powers gets shut off.
I'm not saying opposites attract. I am the perfect example of such strangeness occurring. I wouldn't say Stew and I are overflowing with things in common and the boy doesn't find me the least bit funny. Which really, when I am standing there dancing around, giddy with my own puns, how can you resist laughing. But if he walks in with an oversized pack of graph paper balancing on his head and says he has a new flying nun hat, I'm supposed to drop to the floor clenching my sides in a fit of hysterics. Umm.... no. But, despite our differences of opinion (mainly on the opinion that I'm funny) we have enough in common to make it work. Actually, it's all a lie. He tolerates (for some reason not yet known to science) what no other man could so that is how it works. Any sane man would have been worn down by now and run away. Maybe he is just as crazy as I am. Hmmm.... there is some food for thought.
What I am saying is everyone has their "sticking points" as to what makes someone girlfriend/boyfriend material. Someone who can't take care of themselves and lets their rent lapse is not the person you want tied to you for the long haul. My friend was wise enough to recognize this in a guy she dated for a bit. He took her out a couple of times and then started talking about how short his check was that week and could they just hang at home. One might let this slide IF the guy did not live at home and didn't have any rent to pay. But once she let it slide with this guy, they never went out again, despite her suggestions of a movie and dinner and despite her offers to treat. So, despite the fact that he turned her on more than any guy she has ever met, she cut him loose.
A friend of mine wrote me the other day. He was having some email banter with a girl he thought "probably too young and dumb" for him. So, he baited her by writing something that was ripe with innuendo and had way too many big words for her. When he showed me what he sent her I told him that she was going to miss that. "Wait," I said, "I think I just heard the plane fly by . . . and was that a honk?"
"Why am i always attracted to the stupid ones?" he asked.
I don't know. If I had the answer to that, do you think I would be home sitting on my unemployed ass trying to create the perfect egg salad? Do you think the highlight of my day would be seeing brown rice sushi at the grocery store? No. I would be self-employed, writing an insane book and charging $100 for it because it can only be found on the net. Oh wait, I guess that means i would have written The System.
Maybe the financially responsible soul seeks someone less responsible because that is how they wish they could be. Or, maybe they do it because they feel like they'll prove useful to that person if they are there to keep her in line or write out a check when her check bounces. Maybe the intelligent guy goes for the dumb girl because he harbors a secret desire that ignorance is bliss or maybe he is lazy and knows he doesn't always have to be smart or funny. Maybe the shy quiet guy goes for the outgoing girl so they don't have to worry about making small talk because she'll do it all.
I just feel bad because I can see my friends getting totally screwed over when they date their opposites. I can see it coming from a mile away.
Maybe I should go into fortune telling.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Wisteria Wishes and Caviar Dreams
I have been shopping for other people since June.
If you were thinking in the Christmas sense of the word, you'd imagine I'd be done by now. But, I'm not talking Christmas. I'm talking bridesmaids. And it has been hell for every party involved. See, usually when a girl gets engaged, she gets all giddy with delight thinking about her dress, the friends she wants around her that day, what they will be wearing. Not me. I didn't even have my dress picked out when I started the task of looking at bridesmaids dresses. I knew that would be the hardest. It is way more difficult to find a dress that flatters the very different bodies of four girls than it is to just fit myself. When I strolled into a bridal shop one afternoon, I had every intention of looking at bridesmaids dresses and getting that out of the way first until I was informed by Lovely Lynda Bridal Shop Guru that I had to pick my dress first and work from there.
I wasn't ready to take that step. Granted, my mom was with me but that was more for opinion than purse strings and I had my period which meant the bloat factor. Nothing says good time like trying on white/off white/ivory dresses under harsh fluorescent lighting when you're bloated and crampy. In fact, nothing says "I'd like to go home and kill myself" more. I happened to have some pictures of the dresses I liked and Lovely Lynda Bridal Shop Guru just happened to carry that designer. After four run-ins with entirely too heavy dresses, maxed out with crinoline with beads and sequins all over them, I had enough. I put down my foot. NO MORE CRINOLINE AND NO MORE DRESSES WITH SHIT ALL OVER THEM. So, I ended up with no crinoline but a dress with shit all over it. But, now that my dress was out of the way, the real joy could begin. Having my dress picked out meant that none of the bridesmaids dresses i liked were going to work with it.
The true test of sanity would be selecting the bridesmaids. I pretty much knew who I was going to ask before they knew. I knew the one who would need the most convincing would be my friend in Seattle because we both hated the girly wedding factor. Since Stew wanted to do this the traditional way, I knew fishnets and doc martens were out of the question. They would no doubt be frowned upon on the lush lawn of the resort we are getting hitched at. So, when I asked her I had to throw in something about fully understanding how huge of a task I am asking her to undertake and what a hardship it will be to wear a princess dress and play girly matching dress-up for the day. She responded by telling me she could not guarantee her hair won't be fushcia by then or that she might be covered in tattoos. She also said, "you can put me in a traditional dress and shoes but the fact that i am not traditional will shine through."
I said, "Buck up camper. I'm wearing white, the hypocrisy is starting at the top of the food chain for this shin dig."
All agreed. All my ladies were in. It was time for the real joy. My only requirement in the search was that the dress be under $200 and it would be nice if I found something they could use again. Sounds easy, right? Well, it's not. I'm a pretty simple girl. I dress simple and I'm known to check clearance racks first. But, for such a simple girl, I was cursed with expensive taste. Even dresses I thought would be under $200 were super expensive. Stupid silk. Every dress I showed them, they hated. People told me I was being too nice even letting them have a say but I did tell these nay-sayers that these girls were buying the dress. But, after a while, hearing their opinions (of which there were a lot of) I had it. I picked a dress I wasn't too thrilled about because Lovely Lynda Bridal Shop Guru told me the dress was flattering to every figure. However, it didn't come in any of the colors I liked so i went with the lesser of all pastels. The girls (myself included) weren't thrilled about the choice but I was sick and tired of the process. In a brief moment of temporary insanity I told them to scout for dresses that they liked under $200 and get back to me. I gave them the guidelines that the dresses had to straight across on top and long. They were also encouraged to go try these dresses on and report back to me how they looked on a real person. They reported back to me but very few of their selections fit the bill and even fewer were summer appropriate. We had to remember that this was July . . . . outside . . . so light was the key.
So, I went back to the drawing board and found something we couldn't really all agree on but it was the better than the dreamy chiffon dress I almost went with.
The toughest was choosing the color. Again, i had visions of a rich sapphire blue but this dress did not come in that color. Or, anything near it. So, i went with gold, switched it to rose and then vomited from thinking about all that pink I'd have to look at all day. So, i changed it to wisteria which is the lesser evil of all purples.
Thank moses.
If you were thinking in the Christmas sense of the word, you'd imagine I'd be done by now. But, I'm not talking Christmas. I'm talking bridesmaids. And it has been hell for every party involved. See, usually when a girl gets engaged, she gets all giddy with delight thinking about her dress, the friends she wants around her that day, what they will be wearing. Not me. I didn't even have my dress picked out when I started the task of looking at bridesmaids dresses. I knew that would be the hardest. It is way more difficult to find a dress that flatters the very different bodies of four girls than it is to just fit myself. When I strolled into a bridal shop one afternoon, I had every intention of looking at bridesmaids dresses and getting that out of the way first until I was informed by Lovely Lynda Bridal Shop Guru that I had to pick my dress first and work from there.
I wasn't ready to take that step. Granted, my mom was with me but that was more for opinion than purse strings and I had my period which meant the bloat factor. Nothing says good time like trying on white/off white/ivory dresses under harsh fluorescent lighting when you're bloated and crampy. In fact, nothing says "I'd like to go home and kill myself" more. I happened to have some pictures of the dresses I liked and Lovely Lynda Bridal Shop Guru just happened to carry that designer. After four run-ins with entirely too heavy dresses, maxed out with crinoline with beads and sequins all over them, I had enough. I put down my foot. NO MORE CRINOLINE AND NO MORE DRESSES WITH SHIT ALL OVER THEM. So, I ended up with no crinoline but a dress with shit all over it. But, now that my dress was out of the way, the real joy could begin. Having my dress picked out meant that none of the bridesmaids dresses i liked were going to work with it.
The true test of sanity would be selecting the bridesmaids. I pretty much knew who I was going to ask before they knew. I knew the one who would need the most convincing would be my friend in Seattle because we both hated the girly wedding factor. Since Stew wanted to do this the traditional way, I knew fishnets and doc martens were out of the question. They would no doubt be frowned upon on the lush lawn of the resort we are getting hitched at. So, when I asked her I had to throw in something about fully understanding how huge of a task I am asking her to undertake and what a hardship it will be to wear a princess dress and play girly matching dress-up for the day. She responded by telling me she could not guarantee her hair won't be fushcia by then or that she might be covered in tattoos. She also said, "you can put me in a traditional dress and shoes but the fact that i am not traditional will shine through."
I said, "Buck up camper. I'm wearing white, the hypocrisy is starting at the top of the food chain for this shin dig."
All agreed. All my ladies were in. It was time for the real joy. My only requirement in the search was that the dress be under $200 and it would be nice if I found something they could use again. Sounds easy, right? Well, it's not. I'm a pretty simple girl. I dress simple and I'm known to check clearance racks first. But, for such a simple girl, I was cursed with expensive taste. Even dresses I thought would be under $200 were super expensive. Stupid silk. Every dress I showed them, they hated. People told me I was being too nice even letting them have a say but I did tell these nay-sayers that these girls were buying the dress. But, after a while, hearing their opinions (of which there were a lot of) I had it. I picked a dress I wasn't too thrilled about because Lovely Lynda Bridal Shop Guru told me the dress was flattering to every figure. However, it didn't come in any of the colors I liked so i went with the lesser of all pastels. The girls (myself included) weren't thrilled about the choice but I was sick and tired of the process. In a brief moment of temporary insanity I told them to scout for dresses that they liked under $200 and get back to me. I gave them the guidelines that the dresses had to straight across on top and long. They were also encouraged to go try these dresses on and report back to me how they looked on a real person. They reported back to me but very few of their selections fit the bill and even fewer were summer appropriate. We had to remember that this was July . . . . outside . . . so light was the key.
So, I went back to the drawing board and found something we couldn't really all agree on but it was the better than the dreamy chiffon dress I almost went with.
The toughest was choosing the color. Again, i had visions of a rich sapphire blue but this dress did not come in that color. Or, anything near it. So, i went with gold, switched it to rose and then vomited from thinking about all that pink I'd have to look at all day. So, i changed it to wisteria which is the lesser evil of all purples.
Thank moses.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Always Ring Unemployment Twice
Unemployment. As great as it is at keeping money in your pocket and helping to pay your bills is really terrible. They make it damn near impossible for you to get a job.
I'll explain.
I recall a scene, about 6 years ago when I temped for one day, against my better judgement. I made $150 and it ended up costing me $1900 thanks to Unemployment's rules and regulations as well as the misinformed individuals behind the counter. Before I took the temp job, I called to see how I had to file. The rep told me to file normally for the week and claim the one day on the following week's claim. So, that is what I did. Apparently, that was wrong but it wasn't her fault. It was my fault and I ended up having to give unemployment $1900. I tried to appeal it but it became a he said/she said thing and UE, being a Government agency is ALWAYS right.
Lesson learned: When you have a question for Unemployment, call and ask more than once until you get two answers that match. Also get the Rep's name so you have a name to hate for the rest of your natural born life. You'll never get this person fired or even reprimanded. You will just harvest a hatred for that faceless name FOREVER.
I'm getting really bored sitting home and waiting for someone to hire me so I started thinking about taking on some part time work. So, I call UE to find out how taking a PT job affects your eligibility to collect.
Here is where it gets tricky. They don't allow you to take classes to enhance your marketability or career goals unless you take them at night. Their rule is that you have to be eligible for work during the day in the event a job comes up. Ok fair enough. However, they say it is ok for you to take part-time work. Umm . . . ok and if you work PT during the day doesn't that mean you can't go on interviews as well? You file your hours the same week you work (ok, got that from my past mistake) and then UE deducts 2/3 from you UE benefit check and you get the rest. Really, this only works out to be maybe $50 more a week and honestly, not worth the trouble.
So, yesterday, I went on an interview and they want to give me some test stories to write because I have been away from Journalism so long. While my AP skills may be a little rusty I'm a firm believer in the fact that as long as you never stopped thinking, you can still construct a sentence. Oh and when you minored in Journalism and every job you have ever had included writing, you probably didn't forget how to report a story. But whatever. So, giving me test stories means that they have to pay me freelance rates and i have to fill out a tax form and UE will get wind of this and I know how to file for PT work but how on god's green earth do you file for freelance work? So, I had to just write the editor and ask him if i can go unpaid to avoid going to jail or getting penalized by UE.
See, impossible.
I'll explain.
I recall a scene, about 6 years ago when I temped for one day, against my better judgement. I made $150 and it ended up costing me $1900 thanks to Unemployment's rules and regulations as well as the misinformed individuals behind the counter. Before I took the temp job, I called to see how I had to file. The rep told me to file normally for the week and claim the one day on the following week's claim. So, that is what I did. Apparently, that was wrong but it wasn't her fault. It was my fault and I ended up having to give unemployment $1900. I tried to appeal it but it became a he said/she said thing and UE, being a Government agency is ALWAYS right.
Lesson learned: When you have a question for Unemployment, call and ask more than once until you get two answers that match. Also get the Rep's name so you have a name to hate for the rest of your natural born life. You'll never get this person fired or even reprimanded. You will just harvest a hatred for that faceless name FOREVER.
I'm getting really bored sitting home and waiting for someone to hire me so I started thinking about taking on some part time work. So, I call UE to find out how taking a PT job affects your eligibility to collect.
Here is where it gets tricky. They don't allow you to take classes to enhance your marketability or career goals unless you take them at night. Their rule is that you have to be eligible for work during the day in the event a job comes up. Ok fair enough. However, they say it is ok for you to take part-time work. Umm . . . ok and if you work PT during the day doesn't that mean you can't go on interviews as well? You file your hours the same week you work (ok, got that from my past mistake) and then UE deducts 2/3 from you UE benefit check and you get the rest. Really, this only works out to be maybe $50 more a week and honestly, not worth the trouble.
So, yesterday, I went on an interview and they want to give me some test stories to write because I have been away from Journalism so long. While my AP skills may be a little rusty I'm a firm believer in the fact that as long as you never stopped thinking, you can still construct a sentence. Oh and when you minored in Journalism and every job you have ever had included writing, you probably didn't forget how to report a story. But whatever. So, giving me test stories means that they have to pay me freelance rates and i have to fill out a tax form and UE will get wind of this and I know how to file for PT work but how on god's green earth do you file for freelance work? So, I had to just write the editor and ask him if i can go unpaid to avoid going to jail or getting penalized by UE.
See, impossible.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Sometimes it's better to gift with the receipt
It's that time again. The stores are decorated. The CVS aisles are taunting me with Reesces trees. Shopping center light posts bear the same worn out decorations you've seen since you were four. And in a matter of days, the Salvation Army bells will be ringing and I'll be wracked with guilt as I leave Dunkin Donuts with a hot cup of coffee if I don't empty my change into the red bucket. It's just a matter of time before people start asking me what I want for Christmas and I have to ask them in return.
I'm not against gift giving. I actually love to do it but asking someone what they want can be dangerous. I know several people in my life who ask for something simple but it comes with a dozen or so restrictions that make the task impossible. One year my aunt wanted a simple yellow pillow. Sounds easy, right? Right. It was the request that that followed which made it Mission Impossible I, II and III. It had to be a certain shade of yellow, not too light, but not too bright. It could have flowers but only if they were muted colors. No fringe or tassels. If it had braided trim, it was okay only if it wasn't gold and could change to pink only on Sundays between the hours of 8 and 11 a.m. Here's my kidney, I found it easier to remove with a butter knife and some whiskey than finding your yellow pillow that doesn't exist in any of the 200 places I looked. Oh, and here is the gift receipt.
Sometimes I have the opposite problem. I listen carefully to Stew all year and when he says he wants something I file it away for Christmas, birthday, anniversary, Valentine's Day. That's how he ended up with a nose/ear hair trimmer for Valentine's Day. Romantic i know, but ear and nose hair is so not hot so it kinda works . . . in my world at least. By the time any of these holidays come around I have a list as long as my arm and limited funds. And he makes buying things ahead of time impossible because if he is not sure they are coming he buys it himself. I had every intention of getting him B.B. King tickets for Christmas but I know Stew and unless he knows he has them, he will buy them as a surprise for me. So, I am forced to tell him ahead of time and I end up blowing a great Christmas surprise so that we don't end up with four expensive tickets. Or, I will be in target with Stew and he'll show me a few things he wants. Of course I can't get them while he is with me but, since the boy scored a pair of AC/DC pajamas there last February, he almost NEVER misses a Target shopping excursion.
Lucky for me I am unemployed so I can return to Target anytime I want alone for just one dollar. Yesterday was that day and I knocked a few people off my list. However, with Stew not with me, it leaves me with a bit more browsing time and the intention of buying gifts for other people turns into buying gifts for other people . . . and me. I hadn't asked certain family members what they want yet so I was tempted to just scrap that idea and get them whatever with a gift receipt. I'm convinced that my aunt and I have not kept a single item we've given each other in 15 years despite how much we say we love it when we open it up on Christmas Eve. I don't think I hid my disappointment very well when I opened last year's fur trimmed, suede ankle boot because she promptly handed me the gift receipt. Ankle boots are just not my thing, you need nice slender legs for those and I just wasn't blessed with those.
My mom still likes to think my sister and I are 5-years-old despite the fact my sister has kids of her own now. She finally broke the habit of singing "Santa" on the from part of the gift tag. She also finally semi-broke the identical gift rule of thumb. For a while, my sister and I had to open up our gifts at the exact same time or else they would be spoiled. If she picked up a rectangular box, I had to quickly find the matching box in my pile. I sat down with her last year and explained that it's ok for us to get different gifts. We know she loves us the same. We don't need matching sweaters/ornaments/candles/scarfs to tell us. It's all about being even I know. When I am shopping for my nephews, I find myself doing the same thing. It is hard when there is a 5 year age difference between them tho', A gift that is age appropriate for a 4-year-old is too childish for a 9-year-old smart ass mini-genius. I know they will share whatever they get but one of them is always vying for the other one's gifts the second they open them.
This year I face a harder task. Buying Stew's side of the family gifts. Last year, I was still new so I bottle of wine for his aunt and uncle sufficed. Who knew if I was even going to be in Stew's life by the time they cracked it open. Altho' he was living with me by then, so the chances were better I would be. Gift certificates to area restaurants prove to be good and i think I will do that this year. Gift certificates are such a business because most people forget they have them/or lose them so the business makes money without ever having to shell out their services. I still have a certificate for a manicure from 2004. It's not my regular salon so I never think to use it. Plus, I chew my nails so I never think to get a manicure. I guess that is the real reason. I always feel like a nudge when I ask to use to use the certificate towards something I need more like a pedicure or an eyebrow waxing. Some places don't allow substitution at all.
Thank god this holiday only comes once a year. It's always a stress on the brain. See, maybe that would be the best gift giving idea ever. Say to someone, "let's not swap gifts this year. I am giving you the gift of peace by not having to think about what I may or may not like/want.
I'm not against gift giving. I actually love to do it but asking someone what they want can be dangerous. I know several people in my life who ask for something simple but it comes with a dozen or so restrictions that make the task impossible. One year my aunt wanted a simple yellow pillow. Sounds easy, right? Right. It was the request that that followed which made it Mission Impossible I, II and III. It had to be a certain shade of yellow, not too light, but not too bright. It could have flowers but only if they were muted colors. No fringe or tassels. If it had braided trim, it was okay only if it wasn't gold and could change to pink only on Sundays between the hours of 8 and 11 a.m. Here's my kidney, I found it easier to remove with a butter knife and some whiskey than finding your yellow pillow that doesn't exist in any of the 200 places I looked. Oh, and here is the gift receipt.
Sometimes I have the opposite problem. I listen carefully to Stew all year and when he says he wants something I file it away for Christmas, birthday, anniversary, Valentine's Day. That's how he ended up with a nose/ear hair trimmer for Valentine's Day. Romantic i know, but ear and nose hair is so not hot so it kinda works . . . in my world at least. By the time any of these holidays come around I have a list as long as my arm and limited funds. And he makes buying things ahead of time impossible because if he is not sure they are coming he buys it himself. I had every intention of getting him B.B. King tickets for Christmas but I know Stew and unless he knows he has them, he will buy them as a surprise for me. So, I am forced to tell him ahead of time and I end up blowing a great Christmas surprise so that we don't end up with four expensive tickets. Or, I will be in target with Stew and he'll show me a few things he wants. Of course I can't get them while he is with me but, since the boy scored a pair of AC/DC pajamas there last February, he almost NEVER misses a Target shopping excursion.
Lucky for me I am unemployed so I can return to Target anytime I want alone for just one dollar. Yesterday was that day and I knocked a few people off my list. However, with Stew not with me, it leaves me with a bit more browsing time and the intention of buying gifts for other people turns into buying gifts for other people . . . and me. I hadn't asked certain family members what they want yet so I was tempted to just scrap that idea and get them whatever with a gift receipt. I'm convinced that my aunt and I have not kept a single item we've given each other in 15 years despite how much we say we love it when we open it up on Christmas Eve. I don't think I hid my disappointment very well when I opened last year's fur trimmed, suede ankle boot because she promptly handed me the gift receipt. Ankle boots are just not my thing, you need nice slender legs for those and I just wasn't blessed with those.
My mom still likes to think my sister and I are 5-years-old despite the fact my sister has kids of her own now. She finally broke the habit of singing "Santa" on the from part of the gift tag. She also finally semi-broke the identical gift rule of thumb. For a while, my sister and I had to open up our gifts at the exact same time or else they would be spoiled. If she picked up a rectangular box, I had to quickly find the matching box in my pile. I sat down with her last year and explained that it's ok for us to get different gifts. We know she loves us the same. We don't need matching sweaters/ornaments/candles/scarfs to tell us. It's all about being even I know. When I am shopping for my nephews, I find myself doing the same thing. It is hard when there is a 5 year age difference between them tho', A gift that is age appropriate for a 4-year-old is too childish for a 9-year-old smart ass mini-genius. I know they will share whatever they get but one of them is always vying for the other one's gifts the second they open them.
This year I face a harder task. Buying Stew's side of the family gifts. Last year, I was still new so I bottle of wine for his aunt and uncle sufficed. Who knew if I was even going to be in Stew's life by the time they cracked it open. Altho' he was living with me by then, so the chances were better I would be. Gift certificates to area restaurants prove to be good and i think I will do that this year. Gift certificates are such a business because most people forget they have them/or lose them so the business makes money without ever having to shell out their services. I still have a certificate for a manicure from 2004. It's not my regular salon so I never think to use it. Plus, I chew my nails so I never think to get a manicure. I guess that is the real reason. I always feel like a nudge when I ask to use to use the certificate towards something I need more like a pedicure or an eyebrow waxing. Some places don't allow substitution at all.
Thank god this holiday only comes once a year. It's always a stress on the brain. See, maybe that would be the best gift giving idea ever. Say to someone, "let's not swap gifts this year. I am giving you the gift of peace by not having to think about what I may or may not like/want.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Beam me up Scotty, I married Tom Cruise
Luckily I was spared from the TomKat wedding countdown all most of the weekend. Stew and I took the kids Friday night and that means that my TV was hi-jacked and the channel was never changed from Nickelodeon or the Cartoon Network. The kids arrived a couple of hours before the early evening entertainment news broadcasts and didn't leave until early evening on Saturday. By then I didn't care if I ever heard the TV again so I quickly retreated upstairs to play a few songs on Guitar Hero II. After I racked up almost $1000 jamming in clubs from Austin to Boston, Stew came home from work and took me to see Borat. By the time I got to read any news online, the wedding was over and much to my dismay Katie did not break free of the Christian Scientist pitbull attack dogs and free herself from Tom Cruise's evil couch-jumping clutches. A large part of me was hoping she'd leave him at the altar and run off with Suri and the new baby she is suspected to be growing for harvest.
Is it bad luck for a bride-to-be to wish that someone would be jilted at the altar? Probably, but when it's Tom Cruise, who really cares?
Seriously tho' and this question has been burning me for days. If you go on Oprah and jump up and down on her cream colored leather sofa singing the praises of your knocked-up fiancee' Joey Potter Pacey Dawson, why would you forgo sending Oprah an invite and invite Posh Spice instead? Apparently Oprah was too sane a party guest and Tom Cruise feared she might do something crazy like bring some sanity to the festivities, or even crazier, bring Gayle King. I don't know about that but if I had the opportunity to invite Oprah to my wedding (with the belief that she actually had a reason to come), I would sure as hell make sure she got the first save-the-date card. But my real guess is that there wasn't enough room left at the inn after inviting the entire Christian Science church, alien biological parents to Suri (and select Tom-approved members of Katie's family) to invite "outsiders." When did having Kirstie Alley at your wedding become more important that Oprah? that's like crossing off Bill Gates because you have to invite Courtney Love. If she were still dating Edward Norton it would be an entirely different situation, but she's not, so big X next to her name.
I can go on and on about this but I am pretty sick and I didn't sleep well so the couch and warm blanket is calling my name. Of course I would get sick when I actually score an interview and I have no insurance. So, we're going to remedy this old-skool with as many OTC drugs as I can still buy without signing my name on a form red-flagging me as the proprietor of a meth lab in my tiny kitchen.
Is it bad luck for a bride-to-be to wish that someone would be jilted at the altar? Probably, but when it's Tom Cruise, who really cares?
Seriously tho' and this question has been burning me for days. If you go on Oprah and jump up and down on her cream colored leather sofa singing the praises of your knocked-up fiancee' Joey Potter Pacey Dawson, why would you forgo sending Oprah an invite and invite Posh Spice instead? Apparently Oprah was too sane a party guest and Tom Cruise feared she might do something crazy like bring some sanity to the festivities, or even crazier, bring Gayle King. I don't know about that but if I had the opportunity to invite Oprah to my wedding (with the belief that she actually had a reason to come), I would sure as hell make sure she got the first save-the-date card. But my real guess is that there wasn't enough room left at the inn after inviting the entire Christian Science church, alien biological parents to Suri (and select Tom-approved members of Katie's family) to invite "outsiders." When did having Kirstie Alley at your wedding become more important that Oprah? that's like crossing off Bill Gates because you have to invite Courtney Love. If she were still dating Edward Norton it would be an entirely different situation, but she's not, so big X next to her name.
I can go on and on about this but I am pretty sick and I didn't sleep well so the couch and warm blanket is calling my name. Of course I would get sick when I actually score an interview and I have no insurance. So, we're going to remedy this old-skool with as many OTC drugs as I can still buy without signing my name on a form red-flagging me as the proprietor of a meth lab in my tiny kitchen.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Lack of patience or low threshold for pain
I hadn't heard from my friend for a few days. Usually i don't when she works a few consecutive days. After being up all night tending to patients, I'd imagine, the last thing I'd want to do is gab it up on the phone. I'd imagine I'd want to crawl into the comfort of my bed and drift off to sleep. Monday, she must have felt like talking. I didn't want to ask (but I had to), if she met the guy she has been having nice conversations with over the past two weeks. Or, at least if she has heard from him. She said that he was supposed to call her Monday night but didn't. Now she is hoping he never calls again.
"Why do you hope that?" I asked.
"Well," she hesitated, "he put up another picture of himself and now I'm thinking all the other pictures were really old because this new picture looks nothing like him."
Duped.
So, we ended the conversation with best wishes that he stayed away and never called.
Last night, I was waiting for Dancing With the Stars to come one and my phone rang. It was my friend. Of course my first question was, "so, has he called?" She said he hadn't and she was glad but added, 'Ya know, we had a few nice conversations. What if i was into him, I would be so bummed right now. I'm not, but I would be."
Sometimes you're damned if do and you're damned if you don't.
Here's where I'd like to address "the drop off." It's the biggest risk with online dating. Actually, you encounter it in the dating world period but it's more prevalent in the online "scene." You have a couple of good phone conversations with someone and *foomp* they drop off the face of the earth. In some cases, you'll still see their profiles online or in some cases they will remove them or change the names. Or, you can have a good date or two with someone and they vanish into the air. I remember I went out with a guy on two dates (the second date was 90 times better than the first). He wrote me the following day to tell me what a great time he had and could he call me on Monday at about 8. I said "ok." I wasn't really feeling this guy but he seemed normal enough to at least continue to get to know if he would become the inevitable - abnormal. Monday comes, 8 p.m. comes, 9 p.m. comes, 10 p.m. comes. NOTHING. NOTHING EVER AGAIN. It's fine. You come to expect it. But why bother setting up a time to call when you have NO intention of calling?
It happens to both sexes, I know. And everybody who talks to anyone online says it's one thing they hate the most. In fact, when my friend told me this yahoo expressed his dislike for this behavior in one of their earlier conversations, I still believed, eventho he spent a few days calling when he said he would, that he still had the potential to do this. Everyone has the potential to do this because the online world always offers the potential for a "trade up." A Trade Up is when you're already talking to someone and someone else comes along and gets your attention and you find this person more interesting/funnier/prettier/closer than the current person. You either vanish or stall to see what happens with the "trade up" before you decide to "trade in". What made me leery about this guy my friend was talking to was that he actually mentioned the "trade up" in prior conversations with her. Ugh! Why not just show the table your hand, pal!
However, today I heard from my friend and she said the guy called her last night after she hung up with me. She let it go to voicemail - rightfully so. She said she wanted to call him back and confront him eventho she knows she shouldn't because doing that makes him think that he is worth the time and he's not.
The botched "Trade Up" now becomes the "Rejection Election" where a girl polls her friends to see what she should do. Should she call? Write an E-mail? Just let it go? Here is where there becomes potential for a face-off. See, in my time in online dating, I experienced A LOT of rejection and a lot of "dropping off." I had to even do it myself a few times but it seems to be harder for girls than guys because girls tend to have a guilty conscience about it and believe in a "do unto others" universe. A lot of guys, don't. Before you all get your boxers in a bunch, there are some men who do, but the majority of them don't.
I used to be a dropper offer until it happened to me so many times that I started feeling too guilty about doing it to others. But honestly, I know why most people do it because it is way easier than writing that email or making that phonecall. The first time I did it, it didn't go that well. I got several snotty emails directed to me and after explaining my actions a dozen or so times, I just dropped out knowing i gave it a good college try. The second time, I dated the guy for a little over a month so I figured I had to do it in a phonecall. This was after a week or so of avoiding his calls but he baited me one day by calling me from his family's fax machine line, a line I wasn't familiar with. I told him it wasn't working out (it wasn't) and that we didn't seem to want the same things in life (we didn't) and that I had met someone else (I did). He went away for a little while but then I started getting these random emails first seeing how I was, then "can we go out for coffee?", then "can we just have a sexual relationship"? Ummm . . . Sometimes he would call every couple of weeks, then couple of months, then like half a year would pass and he would call and not leave a message. It took a good year for him to completely go away.
So, was the "right thing to do" really the right thing to do? There were some instances where the guys were understanding but it was like two in eight.
"Why do you hope that?" I asked.
"Well," she hesitated, "he put up another picture of himself and now I'm thinking all the other pictures were really old because this new picture looks nothing like him."
Duped.
So, we ended the conversation with best wishes that he stayed away and never called.
Last night, I was waiting for Dancing With the Stars to come one and my phone rang. It was my friend. Of course my first question was, "so, has he called?" She said he hadn't and she was glad but added, 'Ya know, we had a few nice conversations. What if i was into him, I would be so bummed right now. I'm not, but I would be."
Sometimes you're damned if do and you're damned if you don't.
Here's where I'd like to address "the drop off." It's the biggest risk with online dating. Actually, you encounter it in the dating world period but it's more prevalent in the online "scene." You have a couple of good phone conversations with someone and *foomp* they drop off the face of the earth. In some cases, you'll still see their profiles online or in some cases they will remove them or change the names. Or, you can have a good date or two with someone and they vanish into the air. I remember I went out with a guy on two dates (the second date was 90 times better than the first). He wrote me the following day to tell me what a great time he had and could he call me on Monday at about 8. I said "ok." I wasn't really feeling this guy but he seemed normal enough to at least continue to get to know if he would become the inevitable - abnormal. Monday comes, 8 p.m. comes, 9 p.m. comes, 10 p.m. comes. NOTHING. NOTHING EVER AGAIN. It's fine. You come to expect it. But why bother setting up a time to call when you have NO intention of calling?
It happens to both sexes, I know. And everybody who talks to anyone online says it's one thing they hate the most. In fact, when my friend told me this yahoo expressed his dislike for this behavior in one of their earlier conversations, I still believed, eventho he spent a few days calling when he said he would, that he still had the potential to do this. Everyone has the potential to do this because the online world always offers the potential for a "trade up." A Trade Up is when you're already talking to someone and someone else comes along and gets your attention and you find this person more interesting/funnier/prettier/closer than the current person. You either vanish or stall to see what happens with the "trade up" before you decide to "trade in". What made me leery about this guy my friend was talking to was that he actually mentioned the "trade up" in prior conversations with her. Ugh! Why not just show the table your hand, pal!
However, today I heard from my friend and she said the guy called her last night after she hung up with me. She let it go to voicemail - rightfully so. She said she wanted to call him back and confront him eventho she knows she shouldn't because doing that makes him think that he is worth the time and he's not.
The botched "Trade Up" now becomes the "Rejection Election" where a girl polls her friends to see what she should do. Should she call? Write an E-mail? Just let it go? Here is where there becomes potential for a face-off. See, in my time in online dating, I experienced A LOT of rejection and a lot of "dropping off." I had to even do it myself a few times but it seems to be harder for girls than guys because girls tend to have a guilty conscience about it and believe in a "do unto others" universe. A lot of guys, don't. Before you all get your boxers in a bunch, there are some men who do, but the majority of them don't.
I used to be a dropper offer until it happened to me so many times that I started feeling too guilty about doing it to others. But honestly, I know why most people do it because it is way easier than writing that email or making that phonecall. The first time I did it, it didn't go that well. I got several snotty emails directed to me and after explaining my actions a dozen or so times, I just dropped out knowing i gave it a good college try. The second time, I dated the guy for a little over a month so I figured I had to do it in a phonecall. This was after a week or so of avoiding his calls but he baited me one day by calling me from his family's fax machine line, a line I wasn't familiar with. I told him it wasn't working out (it wasn't) and that we didn't seem to want the same things in life (we didn't) and that I had met someone else (I did). He went away for a little while but then I started getting these random emails first seeing how I was, then "can we go out for coffee?", then "can we just have a sexual relationship"? Ummm . . . Sometimes he would call every couple of weeks, then couple of months, then like half a year would pass and he would call and not leave a message. It took a good year for him to completely go away.
So, was the "right thing to do" really the right thing to do? There were some instances where the guys were understanding but it was like two in eight.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
The System
One night, while heading over to Stew's friend house, he fessed up to something BIG. Prior to meeting me, Stew read a dating manual. I don't think I ever met a guy who read a dating manual or at least admitted to it. Fessing up actually won the chap some points but I felt really bad he wasted his time because my type can't be decoded in a manual. Or, so I thought . . .
I had to know more. I wanted the name of it. I wanted to read it. I wanted to see if I could pick out the tricks he used to reel me in. I wanted to see if my reactions to such tricks fell out of the confines of the book. The last thing I wanted to be is labeled "a typical broad." Of course, sensing danger, he pleaded amnesia to remembering the name of the book and the name of the author, only saying he got it online. I was intrigued because I like a good mystery and I HATE not knowing something.
A few short months later, all my questions would be answered . . . .
While helping Stew pack up his condo, we were throwing a bunch of books into a box. I knew right away from its low budget, no frills glossy white cover, this was the book.
"Oh wow!" I said holding it up, "Is this THE BOOK?" It looked like a galley copy of my first novel . . . well, ONLY novel . . . so far.
Stew laughed, the nervous laugh. The "oh-moses-now-she-is-going-to-read-it" laugh. "Yeah, just put that in here." He looked down at the box. I could see the hope that I would put the book in the box turning his cheeks that crimson red they get when he's embarrassed.
I tightened my grip on the book. "No way, this holds bullshit guy code. I want to read it."
"If you want, but you really shouldn't."
"Move over" I said, kicking off my shoes and climbing onto the bed ready to devour it from cover to cover. So much for packing.
I noted the name, "The System." It sounds so manly. No cutesy title here, this was a book about getting down to business. Then I noted the author's name, "Doc Love." This was going to be great. This was better than finding $5 in the pocket of an old coat.
"Ok," Stew said resigning himself to the fact that I was going to read it. "Let me just say that I customized the book. A lot of it were real asshole techniques and that's not me so I used a few things from it but not everything. Some of the stuff is stupid. You are going to hate it but without that book I never would have met you, the love of my life." Ok, so I added in the "love of my life" part but the rest is true, I swear.
"Let me be the judge of that" I said cracking open the cover, which seemed pretty stiff for something that was supposedly read. Then again, I know how Stew scans . . . I mean reads.
Turns out, Stew and I read the same book except mine had a catchier title and did not cost $99 because I could find it at Borders. My book was called "Why men Love Bitches". The basic gist was about how to make yourself seem unavailable and more mysterious to generate more interest in you because the second he knows he has you, you are done for. The basic gist of the System is "Keep a lady guessing all the time how you feel about her because the second she knows she has you, you are done for." So, the mysterious, unavailable bitch meets the equally mysterious asshole and they engage in a game they both say they don't want to play anymore but know they have to.
To this day, Stew vehemently defends The System explaining had he not read it, he would have approached our relationship straight up, called me a lot and eventually smothered me until he drove me away. Or, worse, I would have played him like a cheap fiddle knowing he liked me so much that I could don a pair of Doc Martens and do a jig on his heart.
Stew is right . . . and wrong. While calling me all the time would have easily driven me away, I would not have stepped all over him because that's just not my nature . . . and Docs are too stiff to get jiggy in*. Plus, anyone that knew me while I was just starting to date Stew must've heard me say a million times, "We don't seem to have that much in common, yet there is something I like about him but don't ask me what it is because I can't tell you."
I couldn't figure Stew out. I mean, I knew he liked me, he kept asking me to go out and entertained my absolutely ranting non-sensical emails. But, in retrospect, coming up on almost 2 years later, I think me not figuring Stew out had more to do with his dumb luck and my laziness than with The System. See, Stew met me when I had officially hit my limit with online dating. I was dating a few people but promised myself when that bullfrog pond dried up, I was going to take a break from it for a while. I was just so sick and tired of the scene that the thought of meeting someone new didn't give me the same rush of excitement it once did. It filled me dread and I treated it like a chore.
Stew technically could have stopped reading this book at page 2 and requested a refund. Right after he read, "Until a woman stops playing head games and throws in the towel, you have to convince her that you are the greatest thing since popcorn."
This was evident when I was late for our first date. I came to dinner that night rife with "this is me, love it or lump it" attitude. I was, as he put it, "so real" and "real" was what he was looking for. "Real" was something I was used to hearing. "Real" is my gimmick until most people get tired of it when they realize it's not going away. Every time Stew said it, I cringed because I knew one day he'd wake up and long for "fake and typical" because "real" is too much work. Real requires her emotional wants and needs be fed before he takes her to dinner.
So, when Stew insulted me by calling me quirky and then left me in the parking lot with just a "well, bye." I had to go out with him again because I had to know what the heck his damage was? Who insults me and just leaves me in the parking lot wondering?
Apparently, a very smart man who read The System.
*Doc Martens are only too stiff to get jiggy in if you don't wear them every night to CBGB's.
I had to know more. I wanted the name of it. I wanted to read it. I wanted to see if I could pick out the tricks he used to reel me in. I wanted to see if my reactions to such tricks fell out of the confines of the book. The last thing I wanted to be is labeled "a typical broad." Of course, sensing danger, he pleaded amnesia to remembering the name of the book and the name of the author, only saying he got it online. I was intrigued because I like a good mystery and I HATE not knowing something.
A few short months later, all my questions would be answered . . . .
While helping Stew pack up his condo, we were throwing a bunch of books into a box. I knew right away from its low budget, no frills glossy white cover, this was the book.
"Oh wow!" I said holding it up, "Is this THE BOOK?" It looked like a galley copy of my first novel . . . well, ONLY novel . . . so far.
Stew laughed, the nervous laugh. The "oh-moses-now-she-is-going-to-read-it" laugh. "Yeah, just put that in here." He looked down at the box. I could see the hope that I would put the book in the box turning his cheeks that crimson red they get when he's embarrassed.
I tightened my grip on the book. "No way, this holds bullshit guy code. I want to read it."
"If you want, but you really shouldn't."
"Move over" I said, kicking off my shoes and climbing onto the bed ready to devour it from cover to cover. So much for packing.
I noted the name, "The System." It sounds so manly. No cutesy title here, this was a book about getting down to business. Then I noted the author's name, "Doc Love." This was going to be great. This was better than finding $5 in the pocket of an old coat.
"Ok," Stew said resigning himself to the fact that I was going to read it. "Let me just say that I customized the book. A lot of it were real asshole techniques and that's not me so I used a few things from it but not everything. Some of the stuff is stupid. You are going to hate it but without that book I never would have met you, the love of my life." Ok, so I added in the "love of my life" part but the rest is true, I swear.
"Let me be the judge of that" I said cracking open the cover, which seemed pretty stiff for something that was supposedly read. Then again, I know how Stew scans . . . I mean reads.
Turns out, Stew and I read the same book except mine had a catchier title and did not cost $99 because I could find it at Borders. My book was called "Why men Love Bitches". The basic gist was about how to make yourself seem unavailable and more mysterious to generate more interest in you because the second he knows he has you, you are done for. The basic gist of the System is "Keep a lady guessing all the time how you feel about her because the second she knows she has you, you are done for." So, the mysterious, unavailable bitch meets the equally mysterious asshole and they engage in a game they both say they don't want to play anymore but know they have to.
To this day, Stew vehemently defends The System explaining had he not read it, he would have approached our relationship straight up, called me a lot and eventually smothered me until he drove me away. Or, worse, I would have played him like a cheap fiddle knowing he liked me so much that I could don a pair of Doc Martens and do a jig on his heart.
Stew is right . . . and wrong. While calling me all the time would have easily driven me away, I would not have stepped all over him because that's just not my nature . . . and Docs are too stiff to get jiggy in*. Plus, anyone that knew me while I was just starting to date Stew must've heard me say a million times, "We don't seem to have that much in common, yet there is something I like about him but don't ask me what it is because I can't tell you."
I couldn't figure Stew out. I mean, I knew he liked me, he kept asking me to go out and entertained my absolutely ranting non-sensical emails. But, in retrospect, coming up on almost 2 years later, I think me not figuring Stew out had more to do with his dumb luck and my laziness than with The System. See, Stew met me when I had officially hit my limit with online dating. I was dating a few people but promised myself when that bullfrog pond dried up, I was going to take a break from it for a while. I was just so sick and tired of the scene that the thought of meeting someone new didn't give me the same rush of excitement it once did. It filled me dread and I treated it like a chore.
Stew technically could have stopped reading this book at page 2 and requested a refund. Right after he read, "Until a woman stops playing head games and throws in the towel, you have to convince her that you are the greatest thing since popcorn."
This was evident when I was late for our first date. I came to dinner that night rife with "this is me, love it or lump it" attitude. I was, as he put it, "so real" and "real" was what he was looking for. "Real" was something I was used to hearing. "Real" is my gimmick until most people get tired of it when they realize it's not going away. Every time Stew said it, I cringed because I knew one day he'd wake up and long for "fake and typical" because "real" is too much work. Real requires her emotional wants and needs be fed before he takes her to dinner.
So, when Stew insulted me by calling me quirky and then left me in the parking lot with just a "well, bye." I had to go out with him again because I had to know what the heck his damage was? Who insults me and just leaves me in the parking lot wondering?
Apparently, a very smart man who read The System.
*Doc Martens are only too stiff to get jiggy in if you don't wear them every night to CBGB's.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
I'm going to take a dump and then we'll talk religion
I love it.
I got an online dating horror story from one of my friends. Apparently, he went out with a chick the other night and it was a disaster. Seriously. I swear this stuff really happens even to men. It was supposed to be a simple Thursday night date, pizza and a movie. He asked her prior to the date to buy the movie tickets early because it was likely to sell out. Apparently, she failed to do this but didn't tell him until they got there and paid for parking . . . and guess what, the movie was sold out.
Let's stop and analyze this action. First things first, Stew has a theory and I tend to agree with it in a lot of cases (fortunately for Stew, I blew this theory away from day one). The theory is that "broads aren't dependable." As a girl, who is friends with other girls, I will admit that sometimes we lack some forethought especially in the dating world. Usually, in that world, the only thing we give an ounce of thought to is how we are going to end the date suddenly if it sucks.
I can even go deeper into this. Depending on which date this was (I found out it was #2), it's not wise to give a girl a responsibility until you're at least 90% sure she can handle it. Otherwise, you risk the evening being ruined and even if it was her fault, her and her friends will still blame you. Also, for the first few dates it's an unspoken rule that the guy should really plan everything. I could be wrong on this, I think Stew spoiled me by always having plans . . . and good plans. Altho' I let it be known early on when when Stew called my cell as I was on my way to our first date to tell me the place we agreed on was closed. I quickly sprung into action with another suggestion. Granted I was running late, but at least I came through.
I'm going to get a proverbial shit storm from men and womyn regarding this about it being the year 2006 and womyn should be equal parts and have a say. I'm not saying that at all. I'm not saying we shouldn't offer to pay our way or just shut up and let you control everything, I'm just saying that the part I like most about the wooing process is sitting back and being wooed. In my case, I like that it still hasn't ended either. The only thing that really changed is he doesn't open my car door first so I don't have to freeze/sweat/get wet any longer. This only changed because his new car has power locks so we can get in at the same time. But for a good solid year, he always opened my door first.
Lesson to be learned: If you are a guy, plan the date. This includes buying any tickets in advance. Keep doing this until you feel comfortable doling out some of the dating responsibility.
Now, because the movie was sold out she invited him back to her place. My friend was ready to call it quits when she expressed surprise that you can buy tickets online, but the fact that she asked him back to her place showed some promise. Some light at the end of a very dark and long tunnel. So, of course he went, who wouldn't?
I'm not a guy. But, I have heard enough stories from guys who went to a date's house too early in the relationship and things hadn't gone down quite like they hoped. In fact, pardon my French, these situations turn to shit a lot faster than you can imagine because if you thought it was too good to be true for a second, then it is. Remember my story about a guy going to a girl's house on date #2 and things heating up and she shuts him down with the "I just had a procedure to see if I have uterine cancer today." Well, things didn't go any better for my friend. Apparently, as things were moving along in the sweating and petting department, she decided this was a great moment to stop him and start asking him his thoughts on religion and children. Of course, because someone just side-swiped out of "the zone" you don't mince words and ask them where is this coming from? She replied, "Well before I go any further, I need to know you're the kind of man that will raise our children in the Roman Catholic faith."
Holy Christmas!!!
Ok, asking a guy back to your house on the second date and starting down the path of "getting lucky" is NEVER the time to talk religion and kids. And, by the way, asking a guy back to your house on the second date is ALSO not the way to put out the vibe you are a good catholic girl. It says you are a psycho and a walking contradiction and if there is an exit, your date should run for it like the room is on fire.
Now, I should know better by now that there are just a lot of crazy people in the world, but still I found myself making excuses for this chick. I assumed that maybe she was a virgin saving herself for marriage. I examined her profile and it certainly talked enough about waiting for the right man to make me wonder. But my friend assured me that "she went for the package like she had been there before."
Then I thought maybe she wasn't all that interested and this was her way of getting him to lose interest. Girls can be a bit roundabout in that way. I remember the great lengths I went to to make a guy lose interest once. This included me falling asleep at the table, flinging my plate dangerously close to the edge of the table because my burger didn't have pickles and acting like a total brat. I also pretended to fall asleep in the car on the way home. A normal guy would have run. My date did not. He just thought I was having an off night.
So, I asked my friend, "have you heard from her since?"
SIX TIMES. She called twice and wrote 4 emails so she wasn't trying to get rid of him, she was serious. She was a walking recipe for crazy withe secret ingredient of psychotic. So, he sent her an email telling her it wasn't going to work out.
But my favorite part of the email he wrote detailing his date was the afterthought.
"Plus, she took a couple of nasty dumps early in the evening that just lingered and lingered.... it was all and all not worth the hassle...."
Sounds like she needs a whole other kind of match.
I got an online dating horror story from one of my friends. Apparently, he went out with a chick the other night and it was a disaster. Seriously. I swear this stuff really happens even to men. It was supposed to be a simple Thursday night date, pizza and a movie. He asked her prior to the date to buy the movie tickets early because it was likely to sell out. Apparently, she failed to do this but didn't tell him until they got there and paid for parking . . . and guess what, the movie was sold out.
Let's stop and analyze this action. First things first, Stew has a theory and I tend to agree with it in a lot of cases (fortunately for Stew, I blew this theory away from day one). The theory is that "broads aren't dependable." As a girl, who is friends with other girls, I will admit that sometimes we lack some forethought especially in the dating world. Usually, in that world, the only thing we give an ounce of thought to is how we are going to end the date suddenly if it sucks.
I can even go deeper into this. Depending on which date this was (I found out it was #2), it's not wise to give a girl a responsibility until you're at least 90% sure she can handle it. Otherwise, you risk the evening being ruined and even if it was her fault, her and her friends will still blame you. Also, for the first few dates it's an unspoken rule that the guy should really plan everything. I could be wrong on this, I think Stew spoiled me by always having plans . . . and good plans. Altho' I let it be known early on when when Stew called my cell as I was on my way to our first date to tell me the place we agreed on was closed. I quickly sprung into action with another suggestion. Granted I was running late, but at least I came through.
I'm going to get a proverbial shit storm from men and womyn regarding this about it being the year 2006 and womyn should be equal parts and have a say. I'm not saying that at all. I'm not saying we shouldn't offer to pay our way or just shut up and let you control everything, I'm just saying that the part I like most about the wooing process is sitting back and being wooed. In my case, I like that it still hasn't ended either. The only thing that really changed is he doesn't open my car door first so I don't have to freeze/sweat/get wet any longer. This only changed because his new car has power locks so we can get in at the same time. But for a good solid year, he always opened my door first.
Lesson to be learned: If you are a guy, plan the date. This includes buying any tickets in advance. Keep doing this until you feel comfortable doling out some of the dating responsibility.
Now, because the movie was sold out she invited him back to her place. My friend was ready to call it quits when she expressed surprise that you can buy tickets online, but the fact that she asked him back to her place showed some promise. Some light at the end of a very dark and long tunnel. So, of course he went, who wouldn't?
I'm not a guy. But, I have heard enough stories from guys who went to a date's house too early in the relationship and things hadn't gone down quite like they hoped. In fact, pardon my French, these situations turn to shit a lot faster than you can imagine because if you thought it was too good to be true for a second, then it is. Remember my story about a guy going to a girl's house on date #2 and things heating up and she shuts him down with the "I just had a procedure to see if I have uterine cancer today." Well, things didn't go any better for my friend. Apparently, as things were moving along in the sweating and petting department, she decided this was a great moment to stop him and start asking him his thoughts on religion and children. Of course, because someone just side-swiped out of "the zone" you don't mince words and ask them where is this coming from? She replied, "Well before I go any further, I need to know you're the kind of man that will raise our children in the Roman Catholic faith."
Holy Christmas!!!
Ok, asking a guy back to your house on the second date and starting down the path of "getting lucky" is NEVER the time to talk religion and kids. And, by the way, asking a guy back to your house on the second date is ALSO not the way to put out the vibe you are a good catholic girl. It says you are a psycho and a walking contradiction and if there is an exit, your date should run for it like the room is on fire.
Now, I should know better by now that there are just a lot of crazy people in the world, but still I found myself making excuses for this chick. I assumed that maybe she was a virgin saving herself for marriage. I examined her profile and it certainly talked enough about waiting for the right man to make me wonder. But my friend assured me that "she went for the package like she had been there before."
Then I thought maybe she wasn't all that interested and this was her way of getting him to lose interest. Girls can be a bit roundabout in that way. I remember the great lengths I went to to make a guy lose interest once. This included me falling asleep at the table, flinging my plate dangerously close to the edge of the table because my burger didn't have pickles and acting like a total brat. I also pretended to fall asleep in the car on the way home. A normal guy would have run. My date did not. He just thought I was having an off night.
So, I asked my friend, "have you heard from her since?"
SIX TIMES. She called twice and wrote 4 emails so she wasn't trying to get rid of him, she was serious. She was a walking recipe for crazy withe secret ingredient of psychotic. So, he sent her an email telling her it wasn't going to work out.
But my favorite part of the email he wrote detailing his date was the afterthought.
"Plus, she took a couple of nasty dumps early in the evening that just lingered and lingered.... it was all and all not worth the hassle...."
Sounds like she needs a whole other kind of match.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
