Relationship Girl is all about finding The One. Single Chick gets better numbers --she is allowed The Five. Everyone is familiar with this game -- five people that you would get a pass to sleep with should the opportunity ever present itself. The Five usually consist of unattainable celebrities and so a certain comfort level is afforded even if you end up playing this game with The One. (Note: The Five should NEVER include anyone he knows personally. Bad form.)
SC started out picking the usual:
1. Brad Pitt
2. George Clooney
3. Johnny Depp
4. Matthew McConaughey
5. Bob Dylan
OK, so Bob Dylan probably is not on the standard list but sleeping with a legend is sleeping with a legend and, quite frankly, I think he's brilliant and worth my last slot. Hockey Boy started his list with the gorgeous Halle Berry and added Keira Knightley when I added Johnny Depp (it was the end of a 3 day Pirates2 viewing -- there were... ahem...distractions along the way) and I almost thought about giving Keira a spot on my 5 as well... (Brad Pitt ? I could bump him off I suppose)...and she does have that fantastic accent... but instead I decided to revise my list a little....stray from the norm. Seriously, how can I have a 5 List with no artists or musicians? And so here is my revised updated list (with a lot of help from Relationship Girl):
1. Albert Einstein - yes, I know he is dead but my chances in reality are every bit as good with him as with George Clooney. I just think Al might be a bit of fun to hang out with. "Imagination is more important than knowledge... " I think he might have had a fun wild streak... besides smart is sexy.
2. Leonardo - not DiCaprio -- da Vinci - Sure, he didn't star in Titanic but he DID invent the helicopter in the 1500s! (Did I say smart is sexy?). Normally, I'm not attracted to a guy with that much facial hair. Of course, I would love to spend the early morning hours under the sheets talking about light and art and painting and sculpting and find out if he really liked Dan Brown's book.
3.Bob Dylan - Yeah, he's staying on the list. I don't have to explain it again. It's my list.
4. Frank Sinatra - I have a thing for blue eyes... and men who look good in expensive suits... and drink martinis...
5. David Beckham - Hey, I AM a girl. Gotta have one athletic hottie with a nice butt.
Okay...so the revised SC list is every bit as fantastical as the original list and I'm not sure if three dead guys and one 66 year old rocker makes Hockey Boy feel any better.... but he still has Keira and Halle and they should be able to get him through... besides, he stands a pretty decent chance of being on RG's shorter list...
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Favorite lines from Pirates 2
"Why is the rum always gone?" Capt. Jack Sparrow
"Is this a dream?"
"No."
"I thought not. If it were a dream, there would be rum."
Capt Jack Sparrow and Bootstrap Turner
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Hockey Boy
What does it say about a middle-aged girl (I just assume I will die when I am 88 so I am middle-aged now at 44) who agrees to go ROLLERBLADING on a date to impress a wine guy who turns out to really be a hockey guy?
His wine guy profile includes a picture of him in Rollerblades on the boardwalk. (Yes, ladies, that's him there.) I recall that I OWN Rollerblades. I may have, in an attempt to impress him, mentioned that to him at some point. He remembers and asks me to skate on my newly paved street with him. Now, I know what you girls who read my blog are thinking and yes...I certainly tried to use new relationship sex as a diversion and convince him that we could skate another day. It didn't work! So there I was...sitting on the front steps... lacing up my skates... trying to figure out how the buckles work...wondering if my decision to skip wearing pads in favour of looking cute was a good idea after all....and still trying to talk my way out of it.
Here's my background: I ice skated on a pond in my backyard until I moved south at age 11. I roller skated when I was a teen at the local roller rink. I am a former ballerina AND a Libra -- balance should not be an issue , dammit!
Here's his background: He came out of the womb with hockey skates on (OK...maybe not...that sounds painful for his poor mom!), he was a hockey star in high school and in college (some little school in Columbus, Ohio) and, apparently has skated EVERY DAY OF HIS LIFE!
He will not let me fall, he says. In fact, I think that's what he was saying as I slide off the end of my driveway, flailing my arms, completely airborne and landed on my ass. It was a beautifully executed tumble and even the Russian judges would have given me a 9.85 for it. I bruised my butt, pulled something in my shoulder and damaged my ego. He did not laugh at me. He skated over, looked at me with those amazing blue eyes, smiled at me and pulled me to my feet even though I was pretty sure that that was not where I wanted to be. It was that smile that made me try again. He jumped over sticks and stones and I tripped on pollen particles and flattened pine needles. I grabbed at cars parked on the street to keep from crashing. I skated like a toddler learning to walk and he circled me in figure 8s and other higher numbers. And the whole time he just smiled at me. The neighbors came out on their porches for the evening's entertainment and while I was certain I would embarrass myself, I was grateful that someone watching might dial 911 for me.
The second fall was less spectacular. The bruise, however, was larger and today is blacker, bluer and sorer. I just laid in the street looking at the sky and wondering if I could make gravel angels if I fanned my arms and legs out. Again, he didn't laugh. Again he helped me up (and again, I wasn't so convinced that I wanted to be up.) He held my hand. He skated backwards and pulled me along. He was a patient and gentle teacher and when I declared myself done with my first lesson, he didn't call me a pussy. He made me cosmos to dull the pain and let me snuggle up with him later even though I smelled like IcyHot (which smells oddly like those little pink Brach candies).
So...will I do it again? Absofreekinlutly! I have something to prove to my middle-aged self (and my neighbors)... besides, ladies... how could I resist that smile?
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Dualing Me
I have been kinda sorta dating again for a few years now. I am exhausted. I have cyber-dated, been hooked up by well-meaning friends and picked guys up in bars. I am torn, like most women dating in their 40s, by the fact that Relationship Girl and Single Chick (my two innner/alter egos) cannot agree on what I want in a man. You would think it would be the same thing....and yet....it doesn't seem to work that way....for example:
Relationship Girl want someone who will take her hand in public, hold her chair and open her doors. Single Chick is hoping someone will grab her ass and whisper lewd suggestions for later fun and games.
RG wants to share a glass of wine with a nice guy on the porch during a rainstorm. SC wants to drink Ghetto cosmos and shoot whiskey with beer chasers with a guy who can remember the punch line to a dirty joke.
RG wants to wake up and find a love note from her man on the nightstand. SC wants to wake up and follow the trail of her clothes back out into the living room...kitchen....um... front door.
RG wants to meet all his friends and bond with them as The One He Adores. SC wonders how many of his friends will actually hit on her while he's in the bathroom.
RG is looking for a guy with great eyes, a soft voice who tells her that he can see being The One in her life. SC is wants a guy with a nice butt, a flirty, wicked attitude who tells her that he can't wait to see her naked.
Relationship girl has been looking for awhile for The One (though she continues to tell everyone that she isn't). Single Chick hopes that The One can keep up with her (knowing that he can't be The One if he can't).
My eternal optimism keeps me believing that The One is out there somewhere (perhaps in a condo by the beach)... and he is looking for The One He Adores (instead of The One Who Stalks)... that he has his own Relationship Guy and Single Dude battles to deal with... I think it might be nice to double date with them.
Relationship Girl want someone who will take her hand in public, hold her chair and open her doors. Single Chick is hoping someone will grab her ass and whisper lewd suggestions for later fun and games.
RG wants to share a glass of wine with a nice guy on the porch during a rainstorm. SC wants to drink Ghetto cosmos and shoot whiskey with beer chasers with a guy who can remember the punch line to a dirty joke.
RG wants to wake up and find a love note from her man on the nightstand. SC wants to wake up and follow the trail of her clothes back out into the living room...kitchen....um... front door.
RG wants to meet all his friends and bond with them as The One He Adores. SC wonders how many of his friends will actually hit on her while he's in the bathroom.
RG is looking for a guy with great eyes, a soft voice who tells her that he can see being The One in her life. SC is wants a guy with a nice butt, a flirty, wicked attitude who tells her that he can't wait to see her naked.
Relationship girl has been looking for awhile for The One (though she continues to tell everyone that she isn't). Single Chick hopes that The One can keep up with her (knowing that he can't be The One if he can't).
My eternal optimism keeps me believing that The One is out there somewhere (perhaps in a condo by the beach)... and he is looking for The One He Adores (instead of The One Who Stalks)... that he has his own Relationship Guy and Single Dude battles to deal with... I think it might be nice to double date with them.
Friday, May 18, 2007
9 Essential travel supplies
My beautiful daughter drove home from Columbia, MO last week for a brief break before summer classes start. And since I taught her everything she knows about road trips, I got to thinking about travel necessities. Since most of you, six dear readers, have never had the privilege of being on a road trip with me, you may be lacking in the travel readiness department and I cannot, in any good consciousness, let that happen....so may I present...P's 9 travel essentials:
1. Chocolate donuts - aka "little plastic donuts". These are the perfect start to a road trip. The car isn't warm enough for them to get melty yet and there are exactly the perfect number in the package. Don't go for the boxed size unless you have a car full of people. Trust me you will eat as many of them as you have. Note: these little plastic tasting donuts are also good for hangover food but otherwise skip them or at least save time by rubbing them directly on your thighs.
2. A HUGE pizza - This is great travel food because you can enjoy it warm and then cold all day long. When you stop for the night you can eat it and then it makes a delightful breakfast on Day 2. Pizza, once again, proving that it is the perfect food.
3. Dog treats and a leash - This is essential even if you are not traveling with a dog. You never know when the universe will notice that you are traveling without a dog and present you with one on the side of the highway.
4. Six pack cooler - Obvious, of course, but here is what should be IN the cooler. Two bottles of water (one for me and one for my '97 Jetta), one beer (that's for when you stop for the day and are going to unwind in your hotel before you go in search of the closest liquor store ---the same theory as eating before grocery shopping), 3 cans of Sugar-free Red Bull (makes up for the chocolate donuts - your thighs will thank you)
5. A towel - NEVER travel without a towel...even short distances. If you have no idea why its important, you obviously are remiss in your literary journey and missed the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe (http://www.towelday.kojv.net/)
6. Little Black Book - I know you have all your numbers stored in your phone. I also know that you left your phone charger plugged in the wall at home. You will need to be able to call people along the journey for a variety of things: to pick you up when you break a doohicky belt and the garage cant order Jetta parts until Monday, to borrow bail money for excessive public /insert your specific vice here/, or to have someone fed ex you the freekin' phone charger.
7. Map - (and, apparently, this really should be a map of the place where you actually are or are going). Those of you with fancy schmancy GPS systems, can afford to be on a plane. Get off the road.
8. Coins for tolls - unlike McDonald's they wont usually take your debit card for $0.35
9. Lots of music - in the format of your choice (FM radio on the road is incredibly iffy -- unless you adore 80's music - which I do). I don't recommend books on tape (hard to look at the pictures while driving).
I will remind you, my 6 loyal readers, to take the road less travelled... though often it's less travelled for a good reason. Also that it is the journey that is important, not the destination...which is a good attitude to have if you forget #7.
1. Chocolate donuts - aka "little plastic donuts". These are the perfect start to a road trip. The car isn't warm enough for them to get melty yet and there are exactly the perfect number in the package. Don't go for the boxed size unless you have a car full of people. Trust me you will eat as many of them as you have. Note: these little plastic tasting donuts are also good for hangover food but otherwise skip them or at least save time by rubbing them directly on your thighs.
2. A HUGE pizza - This is great travel food because you can enjoy it warm and then cold all day long. When you stop for the night you can eat it and then it makes a delightful breakfast on Day 2. Pizza, once again, proving that it is the perfect food.
3. Dog treats and a leash - This is essential even if you are not traveling with a dog. You never know when the universe will notice that you are traveling without a dog and present you with one on the side of the highway.
4. Six pack cooler - Obvious, of course, but here is what should be IN the cooler. Two bottles of water (one for me and one for my '97 Jetta), one beer (that's for when you stop for the day and are going to unwind in your hotel before you go in search of the closest liquor store ---the same theory as eating before grocery shopping), 3 cans of Sugar-free Red Bull (makes up for the chocolate donuts - your thighs will thank you)
5. A towel - NEVER travel without a towel...even short distances. If you have no idea why its important, you obviously are remiss in your literary journey and missed the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe (http://www.towelday.kojv.net/)
6. Little Black Book - I know you have all your numbers stored in your phone. I also know that you left your phone charger plugged in the wall at home. You will need to be able to call people along the journey for a variety of things: to pick you up when you break a doohicky belt and the garage cant order Jetta parts until Monday, to borrow bail money for excessive public /insert your specific vice here/, or to have someone fed ex you the freekin' phone charger.
7. Map - (and, apparently, this really should be a map of the place where you actually are or are going). Those of you with fancy schmancy GPS systems, can afford to be on a plane. Get off the road.
8. Coins for tolls - unlike McDonald's they wont usually take your debit card for $0.35
9. Lots of music - in the format of your choice (FM radio on the road is incredibly iffy -- unless you adore 80's music - which I do). I don't recommend books on tape (hard to look at the pictures while driving).
I will remind you, my 6 loyal readers, to take the road less travelled... though often it's less travelled for a good reason. Also that it is the journey that is important, not the destination...which is a good attitude to have if you forget #7.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Mother's Day
It figures that my blog entry about Mothers Day would be two days late. I have been so busy BEING a mom, that I haven't had time to WRITE about BEING one. So like any good mom...here I am 2 days later, up past my bedtime, snoring child upstairs safely tucked in her bed (home from college but I'd recognize that snore anywhere), dog asleep on my feet and a dish drainer of clean dishes in the sink (ok! I confess! The clean dishes are actually from yesterday...I ordered in pizza tonight and the paperplates are still on the table)...finally getting some ME time to blog:
I have been a mom now for 21 years. I have a confession to make to my child...I NEVER knew what I was doing. I had an excellent role model...my mom is the best, so at least I had that going for me.... but I was ALWAYS just kinda hoping for the best and doing what I could do without throwing up. Momming is hard work. Kids -- even smart kids -- shove raisins up their noses...they eat sand...they stick pads of butter on their heads in public places. The handbooks don't cover any of that. Its a wonder that any of us moms make it out alive. Our kids scream and stomp and yell and hit and cry and vomit and we try to not reciprocate though we feel the same -- THEY are only TWO and WE are the GROWN-UPS... it would be poor form.
We do ponytails and we make mudpies with ever changing recipes. We try to remember to say no when its right and not just when its popular. We show up at sports events and recitals and school productions and smile and clap wildly, eyes heavy from midnight mending sessions to make last minute uniform/costume alterations. We kiss boo-boos and mend hurt feelings. We struggle to let you learn from your own mistakes while hoping that we are learning from ours.
We see the sun rise while finishing science projects involving spewing volcanoes or making snacks for the party that children who forget nothing, forgot. We carpool, we volunteer, we fund-raise...all the while hoping that we are doing enough but not too much. We hold our children's hands and our own breath as they make life transitions and head for adulthood. We attempt to maintain control, if not over them, then over ourselves. We wince our way through driver's ed, dating and broken hearts wishing we could still heal everything with a band-aid and a kiss...
...and then...one day...they are gone. We look around our nest at the team photos on the mantle and the medals hanging in what will soon be the "guest room". We dig through shoe boxes full of memories that we thought we might someday organize into a scrapbook. Our work isn't finished, but the requirements of the job have changed and there is still no manual...no how-to...only more breath-holding and finger-crossing.
So on this (two days after) Mothers Day...I want to say:
to my mother -- I love you. Thank you for being the best mom a girl could ever want. You made it look easy.
And to my daughter: I love you. Someday you will celebrate Mother's Day from this side too and realize that everything you have read about raising children only works for other peoples children. Yours will be special...just like mine was...and just like Grandma's was. Hide the raisins, call for advice and remember, if you smile a lot, no one seems to notice that you have no clue what you are doing.
I have been a mom now for 21 years. I have a confession to make to my child...I NEVER knew what I was doing. I had an excellent role model...my mom is the best, so at least I had that going for me.... but I was ALWAYS just kinda hoping for the best and doing what I could do without throwing up. Momming is hard work. Kids -- even smart kids -- shove raisins up their noses...they eat sand...they stick pads of butter on their heads in public places. The handbooks don't cover any of that. Its a wonder that any of us moms make it out alive. Our kids scream and stomp and yell and hit and cry and vomit and we try to not reciprocate though we feel the same -- THEY are only TWO and WE are the GROWN-UPS... it would be poor form.
We do ponytails and we make mudpies with ever changing recipes. We try to remember to say no when its right and not just when its popular. We show up at sports events and recitals and school productions and smile and clap wildly, eyes heavy from midnight mending sessions to make last minute uniform/costume alterations. We kiss boo-boos and mend hurt feelings. We struggle to let you learn from your own mistakes while hoping that we are learning from ours.
We see the sun rise while finishing science projects involving spewing volcanoes or making snacks for the party that children who forget nothing, forgot. We carpool, we volunteer, we fund-raise...all the while hoping that we are doing enough but not too much. We hold our children's hands and our own breath as they make life transitions and head for adulthood. We attempt to maintain control, if not over them, then over ourselves. We wince our way through driver's ed, dating and broken hearts wishing we could still heal everything with a band-aid and a kiss...
...and then...one day...they are gone. We look around our nest at the team photos on the mantle and the medals hanging in what will soon be the "guest room". We dig through shoe boxes full of memories that we thought we might someday organize into a scrapbook. Our work isn't finished, but the requirements of the job have changed and there is still no manual...no how-to...only more breath-holding and finger-crossing.
So on this (two days after) Mothers Day...I want to say:
to my mother -- I love you. Thank you for being the best mom a girl could ever want. You made it look easy.
And to my daughter: I love you. Someday you will celebrate Mother's Day from this side too and realize that everything you have read about raising children only works for other peoples children. Yours will be special...just like mine was...and just like Grandma's was. Hide the raisins, call for advice and remember, if you smile a lot, no one seems to notice that you have no clue what you are doing.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Stoplight Boy
I knew it...my friend Rach knew it...and the relationship girl in me knew it... and the single chick in me wasn't paying attention because the new relationship sex was pretty good. He seemed so perfect for me but, somehow (and I dont know how I continue to pick 'em) it turns out that he is emotionally unavailable ...."still not over HER".... and he tells me this.....(wait for it)....by text message! Red light. All stop.
Two or three days go by. He is history and I am up at bat again on Match.com. Hey batter, batter, swing! And its a pop-fly right to an interesting and cute wine guy. There it is again...my eternal optimism. And then there it is again...his number on my caller ID.... "Its definitely over with HER".... green light. Go! I hear a voice inside my head (which was actually Rach who is a cop, btw, and so she knows these things) and she calls the light a flashing yellow at best...proceed with caution. Relationship girl reminds him that he is an idiot but she forgives him. Single chick gets excited about the possibility of make-up sex. Green. Green. Go!
UNTIL... uh-huh... I kid you not.... THE NEXT DAY....another text message..."not fair to you if I'm thinking of HER, blah blah blah". Red light. Red light and cross bars at an endless railroad crossing. ALL FREEKIN' STOP! Relationship girl declares herself an idiot, single girl is still enjoying the last puff on a post-coital cigarette (she knows they are bad for her but so was this boy and that didn't stop her) and Rachael is on her way over to take me out for cocktails.
So now I sit...idling at the light...looking both ways...wondering which direction that nice wine guy went....
Two or three days go by. He is history and I am up at bat again on Match.com. Hey batter, batter, swing! And its a pop-fly right to an interesting and cute wine guy. There it is again...my eternal optimism. And then there it is again...his number on my caller ID.... "Its definitely over with HER".... green light. Go! I hear a voice inside my head (which was actually Rach who is a cop, btw, and so she knows these things) and she calls the light a flashing yellow at best...proceed with caution. Relationship girl reminds him that he is an idiot but she forgives him. Single chick gets excited about the possibility of make-up sex. Green. Green. Go!
UNTIL... uh-huh... I kid you not.... THE NEXT DAY....another text message..."not fair to you if I'm thinking of HER, blah blah blah". Red light. Red light and cross bars at an endless railroad crossing. ALL FREEKIN' STOP! Relationship girl declares herself an idiot, single girl is still enjoying the last puff on a post-coital cigarette (she knows they are bad for her but so was this boy and that didn't stop her) and Rachael is on her way over to take me out for cocktails.
So now I sit...idling at the light...looking both ways...wondering which direction that nice wine guy went....
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Jim White
This morning I received a phone call that my good friend Jim White had committed suicide last week. I am in shock. I wish I could go back to hug him and tell him that the rough patch of life he was dealing with would get better. I want to yell at him and slap him for giving up...for not believing in himself and those of us around him. I should have tried harder to go visit when he called last month. I should have reached out more to let him know he wasnt alone.
I want to cry.
I met Jim through our shared occupations as pottery studio owners. We even served on a board together but Jim wasnt willing to pound his head against the brick walls that the position required so he respectfully abdicated his throne. We stayed friends...there was no way NOT to be Jim's friend. I wrote a blog once about amazing men in my life and Jim White was truly one of the best. I was lucky to be his friend...my life is richer for knowing him and now poorer for the loss....
He was a truly unique soul...full of life and more than once my Guide off the beaten path. When my daughter got a scholarship to Mizzou, Jim was my connection in MO. He'd pick me up from the airport in St. Louis and we'd start what should have been an hour long trip to Columbia. We never made it in less than 5. Jim showed me parts of Missouri that not even most residents of the Show Me State ever saw. He had a map in his car that he highlighted with all of the streets he had traveled. He wanted to get to them all eventually.
He insisted on stopping at stores that advertised MO. products. He lived locally and bought locally -- that was a personal motto.
When Jim talked to you, he said your name alot. And when he said my name he usually did it with a sort of giggle like I amused him. He certainly amused me.
When we were in SF at a convention, I learned that he collected vintage postcards and had a national park passport which he got stamped when he traveled. I teased him for being a geek. He got even by dragging us all to the park.
He loved a girl... with his whole heart and soul. It made him immensely happy and ultimately too sad. She called him stupid at a phone booth the day they met and he was a goner. He always smiled when he said her name.
There are one-on-one Jim White moments that I will carry with me from here. Jim's own personal stamp on my life's passport: the squirrel that scared me in the Jesus tomb.... jumping on his bed in a SF hotel like unruly children... free church postcards... girl boots... Nelly on 11... golfballing the dog... laundry smell advice... messages in bottles... long talks about life's journey...driving thru SL when the Cards qualified for the Series... that train track bar I cant remember the name of... a cutting board (made in MO of course) that is in the SHAPE of MO (of course)...
And... now... i cry... I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Jim... I will always miss you, my friend...
I want to cry.
I met Jim through our shared occupations as pottery studio owners. We even served on a board together but Jim wasnt willing to pound his head against the brick walls that the position required so he respectfully abdicated his throne. We stayed friends...there was no way NOT to be Jim's friend. I wrote a blog once about amazing men in my life and Jim White was truly one of the best. I was lucky to be his friend...my life is richer for knowing him and now poorer for the loss....
He was a truly unique soul...full of life and more than once my Guide off the beaten path. When my daughter got a scholarship to Mizzou, Jim was my connection in MO. He'd pick me up from the airport in St. Louis and we'd start what should have been an hour long trip to Columbia. We never made it in less than 5. Jim showed me parts of Missouri that not even most residents of the Show Me State ever saw. He had a map in his car that he highlighted with all of the streets he had traveled. He wanted to get to them all eventually.
He insisted on stopping at stores that advertised MO. products. He lived locally and bought locally -- that was a personal motto.
When Jim talked to you, he said your name alot. And when he said my name he usually did it with a sort of giggle like I amused him. He certainly amused me.
When we were in SF at a convention, I learned that he collected vintage postcards and had a national park passport which he got stamped when he traveled. I teased him for being a geek. He got even by dragging us all to the park.
He loved a girl... with his whole heart and soul. It made him immensely happy and ultimately too sad. She called him stupid at a phone booth the day they met and he was a goner. He always smiled when he said her name.
There are one-on-one Jim White moments that I will carry with me from here. Jim's own personal stamp on my life's passport: the squirrel that scared me in the Jesus tomb.... jumping on his bed in a SF hotel like unruly children... free church postcards... girl boots... Nelly on 11... golfballing the dog... laundry smell advice... messages in bottles... long talks about life's journey...driving thru SL when the Cards qualified for the Series... that train track bar I cant remember the name of... a cutting board (made in MO of course) that is in the SHAPE of MO (of course)...
And... now... i cry... I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Jim... I will always miss you, my friend...
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
9 things that smell like summer to me...
1. Mojitos - I'm from the South...i dunno if you other people (phrase meaning ALL non-Southerners) even drink Mojitos but there something about the smell of the crushed mint (which I am told is done quite humanely) that makes me wish I had a veranda and a BFF named Scarlett.
2. Cut grass - I probably don't need to point out that this is the smell of the neighbour's cut grass...not mine...since my grass is part of an agricultural experiment gone horribly awry.
3. Coconuts - as in tanning oils AND umbrella drinks. No real difference there except too many umbrella drinks may cause you to forget the tanning oil and then the only thing you can smell is your own burning flesh (but I digress).
4. Sweat - which I wish was eminating from a sexy shirtless cabana boy named Raoul but instead is coming from a fat salesman from Minnesota named Ned who is two towels away from me on the beach but sadly upwind.
5. Seagull poop - yeah yeah... you other people may not know the smell but other similar version can be found in NYC (pigeon poop) and Capistrano (What? You thought swallows didn't poop?)
6. Carny food - This envelopes all the fried food that you get at outdoor events in the summer and includes (but is not limited to) corn dogs, funnel cake and fried twinkies. Its the same grease, regardless of selection, and its the same smell and I want one of each, thankyouverymuch!
7. Testosterone - A smell for all season actually though the summer version (when mixed with #4) is perhaps the most potent. Usually found at popular athletic events such as beach volleyball, baseball, and keg throwing.
8. Jetta engine - This would be the smell of my sporty little 10 yr old import overheating. Where does the water go anyway?
9. Vinyl - As in beach balls, floaties, pool chairs, fake palm trees and anything else which requires Herculean lung-power to huff and/or puff to inflate. May also include the blow-up mattress in the guest room of my apartment which is a popular resort destination only because i live 10 minutes from sand and water and I make a fabulous #1.
2. Cut grass - I probably don't need to point out that this is the smell of the neighbour's cut grass...not mine...since my grass is part of an agricultural experiment gone horribly awry.
3. Coconuts - as in tanning oils AND umbrella drinks. No real difference there except too many umbrella drinks may cause you to forget the tanning oil and then the only thing you can smell is your own burning flesh (but I digress).
4. Sweat - which I wish was eminating from a sexy shirtless cabana boy named Raoul but instead is coming from a fat salesman from Minnesota named Ned who is two towels away from me on the beach but sadly upwind.
5. Seagull poop - yeah yeah... you other people may not know the smell but other similar version can be found in NYC (pigeon poop) and Capistrano (What? You thought swallows didn't poop?)
6. Carny food - This envelopes all the fried food that you get at outdoor events in the summer and includes (but is not limited to) corn dogs, funnel cake and fried twinkies. Its the same grease, regardless of selection, and its the same smell and I want one of each, thankyouverymuch!
7. Testosterone - A smell for all season actually though the summer version (when mixed with #4) is perhaps the most potent. Usually found at popular athletic events such as beach volleyball, baseball, and keg throwing.
8. Jetta engine - This would be the smell of my sporty little 10 yr old import overheating. Where does the water go anyway?
9. Vinyl - As in beach balls, floaties, pool chairs, fake palm trees and anything else which requires Herculean lung-power to huff and/or puff to inflate. May also include the blow-up mattress in the guest room of my apartment which is a popular resort destination only because i live 10 minutes from sand and water and I make a fabulous #1.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Match Point
I am definitely a relationship girl cruelly trapped in the body of an eternally single chick. I have been sans serious boy in my life now for...um...(trying to remember just who might read this and have their feelings hurt)...well over a year. I have lovingly referred to this as a "dry spell" which is merely code for "why is everyone I meet a freak?"
Ever the optimist, I popped back onto Match.com recently for another 3-day free trial. (I said I was an optimist not a moron - I dont wanna have to pay for anything unless I see something worth paying for....im more just a browser at this point...a window shopper if you will). The thing about going through this process (again) is the vunerability of putting yourself out there. Waiting to be judged. Making sure that your pictures make you look like you have friends, a winning smile, and a cute wardrobe. Making sure not all of them were taken in a bar or at a party. Finding one with a picture of your dog...or a friends dog...or just a dog you downloaded a picture of from the internet. You create witty things to say about yourself and try to avoid any sort of real commitmment to walking on beaches or thunderstorms. (Note: most people are for them...hardly anyone is against them.)And then you wait for the emails from the guys who dont read a word of what you have written but merely think your pictures are exactly what they are looking for in a "soulmate": a girl...female...chick....being with bosoms.
If you have ever dabbled on Match.com, you know that you can also see who looked at your profile...and then didnt send you a wink, or an email or any sort of response at all. They didnt quite like what they saw. Sometimes I'm grateful. The NASCAR-loving fisherman who loves camping is probably not a good match anyway. And the Biblethumping non drinkers are gonna have a hard time fitting into my social circles so I get it. I try not to take it personally but sometimes I cant help myself. This time I noticed a cute boy that had not sent me so much as a wink. I read his profile. He's PERFECT for me! So it must be me...there is something wrong with me...Im fat or old or a paranoid schizo (hey I have proof!). ....so....that relationship girl inside me slips the single chick in me a $20 (she's single AND cheap apparently) and they send him an email behind my back! The three of us wait for a response...ball in his court. And it was a volley...back to me (us?). We email, we phone, we meet. Hes funny, sarcastic and actually looks better in real life than in his pictures. He seems honest and sincere and both the single chick and the relationship girl have their fingers crossed for me with this one. I just keep hoping that the fantastic "new relationship sex" that the single chick is getting doesnt run out before the relationship girl finds out he's a freak.
Ever the optimist, I popped back onto Match.com recently for another 3-day free trial. (I said I was an optimist not a moron - I dont wanna have to pay for anything unless I see something worth paying for....im more just a browser at this point...a window shopper if you will). The thing about going through this process (again) is the vunerability of putting yourself out there. Waiting to be judged. Making sure that your pictures make you look like you have friends, a winning smile, and a cute wardrobe. Making sure not all of them were taken in a bar or at a party. Finding one with a picture of your dog...or a friends dog...or just a dog you downloaded a picture of from the internet. You create witty things to say about yourself and try to avoid any sort of real commitmment to walking on beaches or thunderstorms. (Note: most people are for them...hardly anyone is against them.)And then you wait for the emails from the guys who dont read a word of what you have written but merely think your pictures are exactly what they are looking for in a "soulmate": a girl...female...chick....being with bosoms.
If you have ever dabbled on Match.com, you know that you can also see who looked at your profile...and then didnt send you a wink, or an email or any sort of response at all. They didnt quite like what they saw. Sometimes I'm grateful. The NASCAR-loving fisherman who loves camping is probably not a good match anyway. And the Biblethumping non drinkers are gonna have a hard time fitting into my social circles so I get it. I try not to take it personally but sometimes I cant help myself. This time I noticed a cute boy that had not sent me so much as a wink. I read his profile. He's PERFECT for me! So it must be me...there is something wrong with me...Im fat or old or a paranoid schizo (hey I have proof!). ....so....that relationship girl inside me slips the single chick in me a $20 (she's single AND cheap apparently) and they send him an email behind my back! The three of us wait for a response...ball in his court. And it was a volley...back to me (us?). We email, we phone, we meet. Hes funny, sarcastic and actually looks better in real life than in his pictures. He seems honest and sincere and both the single chick and the relationship girl have their fingers crossed for me with this one. I just keep hoping that the fantastic "new relationship sex" that the single chick is getting doesnt run out before the relationship girl finds out he's a freak.
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