Truth Is Thursday: Life Is Quite Nosy

Truth Is: Dear Willoughby, I have so much to say to you, but I'm not going to whisper a single syllable. You simply cannot see what you do. It's okay. Humans are beautifully complex that way. But I cannot, and will not, be your Marianne. No, this Marianne needs her Colonel Brandon.

Truth Is: CSI: Miami was cancelled! Very sad. No more Horatio. :(

Truth Is: I miss my Mavs. When I think back on this time last year…the stress, nausea, pacing, heart pounding, and rocking back and forth on the edge of my seat; the highs and lows of wins and losses; the utter thrill of victory…it's a great feeling. Good luck to all you fans whose teams are still in the hunt--enjoy every single second, good, bad, and in between. There's nothing like it.

Truth Is: Mom got her Kindle for Mother's Day…with "wee-fee." She's hilarious with it. At first, she was completely clueless. Now, she's zooming around the thing like she's had it for years. Dad and I are very proud of her.

Truth Is: Life sent me a message on Mother's Day. Not joking.

Woke up Sunday to a little text jingle.

"Hmm, wonder who that is," I said, checking the number. "Don't recognize that number, but it is local. Maybe BFF got another new number."

I clicked on the text and very nearly fell out of bed.

"HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! Love, Life"

"Screw you, Life. Screw you." Yep, that was my spontaneous reaction.

Being single doesn't suck--beats being alone in a relationship. Still, Life needs to stay the hell out of it and shut the blank-ity-blank up.

Male Monogamists--An Urban Man Myth?

Behold an example of the rare, nearly extinct species called Male Monogamists. 

Daniel Radcliffe of Harry Potter fame (and The Woman In Black) recently stated that he is a serial monogamist.  And, yes, he is happily in love.

The man is only 22 years old.  TWENTY-TWO, thinking the way a thirty or forty-year-old man should think.

Perhaps Dan should hold a seminar and relay this notion of monogamy to older men, since the concept seems lost on many of them (not all, mind you, but, dang, there are quite a few who just can’t seem to stay with one woman).  

Dan also mentioned an incident where some woman implicitly invited him to have sex with her, even going so far as providing him with her hotel number.  Ugh.  Self-respect, ladies! Self-respect!    

I suppose Male Monogamists do, indeed, exist, though I'm convinced they are an endangered species.

Then, awwww:

Credit: Getty Images

Now, Mr. Harry Handsome:

Credit: Esquire

The Urban Love Myth

The Urban Love Myth

Tell Bridget Jones, call Carrie Bradshaw, channel Jane Austen, and alert the white jackets. And someone, please, slap me silly because I have done something beyond comprehension. 

The thing with which I must hide my head in shame: While watching the wedding scene of The Twilight Saga, Breaking Dawn, Part I…I cried. We’re talking the salty tears, snotty nose variety, here, folks.  And I was really pathetic when they started playing Flightless Bird, American Mouth…yeah, hello, Kleenex. 

My mind, which was thoroughly repulsed, screamed, “You don’t cry at Twilight!” (totally modified that from Tom Hanks circa A League of Their Own).

It was a totally impulsive, unfiltered reaction, and I couldn’t help but wonder why.  Then, it hit me: the reason my tears flowed wasn’t for the vampire and his flightless bird, it was because I envied the love they shared, and, more importantly, I wondered about its existence in reality.

And, yes, I know it’s a movie, a book, fake, so not the real world, blah, blah, blah.  I get that; I’m not delusional.  But…in all honesty, shouldn’t that supposed unrealistic love be part of our world? I mean, minus the bloodsucking, bruising, and rapidly growing baby, followed by gruesome birth stuff. 

So, the trillion dollar question:  Does that kind of inconvenient, heart-stopping, endless love actually exist in our reality?  If we’re patient, and look with our hearts, yes, I believe it does.   

I could easily say it doesn’t exist.  Why?  Because it’s the easy answer.  It’s an easy way to explain away the frustration, the perpetual Singletonville address, and, in some cases, settling with someone you know isn’t right for you. 

See, I think many people today are so jaded that, on some level, they settle for what’s easy or convenient because they figure they’ll never find the real thing.  I’ve known people who have married because they believed that person was the best they could do at the time.  Then, of course, you have the men who marry based on lust, women who marry for money, etc.  None of these scenarios equal the kind of love I’m talking about—the kind of love we all yearn for…and we all deserve.  

People are so quick to say true love is only for books and movies.  But, I don’t think that’s true.  The only reason we don’t see it in everyday life is because no one steps up and actually makes it happen. 

If everyone settles or rushes into something “just because,” then, naturally, the concept of a soul mate becomes more of an urban love myth than an actuality.  No wonder so many people don’t believe movie-love exists—they’re all too busy crapping on the idea.

Maybe if we trusted our hearts a little more, gave credit to our instincts, and took chances, we’d look at the world and it would remind us of An Affair to Remember or a Jane Austen novel, rather than just leaving us wishing for some elusive dream. 

I’m pretty sure some people think I’m a fool, waiting for something I may never find.  Maybe I am.  But, I’d rather be a believing fool, than alone in a relationship, wishing I had trusted in something that’s seemingly unbelievable. 

There are many different kinds of love, bringing people together, making us happy.  So, why sell one brand of love short?  If love really does make the world go round, then giving up on any part of it is like helping to end the world (in a manner of dramatic speaking).

Maybe never giving up isn’t such a bad thing after all.  

And so ends this episode of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, otherwise known as my single gal brain dump. 

**This was a guest post I wrote for the wonderful Janie Junebug. She mentioned posting it here as well, but in my sleep deprived state, I plum forgot. 

Truth Is Thursday: Single Gal Mind Dump and M&M's

Truth Is: What’s up with the wedding marathons on television?  Seriously.  Channels like Hallmark and Lifetime and, I don’t know, others, have had wedding weekends since January. 

Pretty sure one of them begged viewers to celebrate “Wedding Month.” Huh, what, and more huh?  June is the official wedding month.  Not January, not February (apart from V-Day, which is like engagement day), not March, April, or May—June, and ONLY June. 

And I know this isn’t just annoying to me as a single because even my mom said it was ridiculously obnoxious.  Now, when my fairytale-happy, loves-to-watch-happy, happy, joy, joy-movies mom says as much, you know it must be white-dress and butter cream icing overkill.

Sorry.  Had to just, you know, get that off my mind because…

Truth Is: …my brain is standing room only.  I’m surprised I don’t have to WD-40 the dang thing.  It’s just going and going and going and going. It won’t shut the heck up and let me be, much less sleep.  

Truth Is:  Kind of getting sick of the: “You’ll need x-y-z when you have kids one day…if you have them, I mean.”  Oh, the “Your clock must be ticking about now, right?” is always pleasant.  And let’s not forget the classically annoying, “Well, you’ll probably find him someday.”

Anyone have ANY suggestions for how to respond to those statements?  I'm getting tired of responding with the plastered smile and resigned nod.  I don’t think they’re trying to be mean or anything—it’s more like they forgot about their stay in Singletonville.

These same women HATED when the Marrieds made those kinds of statements/questions.  Yet, here they are, cuddling up to the ideology they once loathed, while busily inserting it in my life. 

I sometimes wonder if marriage acts as a partial lobotomy on the single gal mindset for some women.  

Truth Is: My Mavs play the Heat tonight. *Hurl* If we hadn't annihilated them in the Championship last year *bliss*, I'd be much more nervous.  Jason Terry is rumored to be breaking out the gold shoes for the match up. lol Gotta love Jet. 

Truth Is: And, lastly, one of my favorite commercials right now is this M&M ad. Totally makes me laugh every single time. 

Truth Is Thursday--Sinuses Suck

Truth Is: I know I haven’t been blogging much this week.  I’ve been fighting a ferocious sinus infection.  We’re talking the ice bag on face, Anbesol on gums, Advil every chance you get kind of thing. Honestly, I haven’t had one this bad in a long, long time. 

                                                                                                    

Truth Is: If someone cancels a date due to a sinus infection, please know it’s actually in your best interest.  Please don’t respond with the following: “Really?  You’re bailing over a sinus flare up?  If you don’t want to go out with me, just tell me.” 

Here’s the thing:  Unless you would like your date carrying a drippy ice bag, downing Advil, snotting, drooling from a numb mouth thanks to copious amounts of Anbesol, and likely face-planting in her food, be happy about a cancellation.

Truth Is: I’m really looking forward to seeing The Hunger Games, but I would love for people to stop saying it’s the next Harry Potter. No, it isn’t. They’re two completely different stories set in two totally different worlds. Besides, Harry Potter stands alone. 

Truth Is: Tim Tebow is now a Jet, not Bennie (B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets…sorry.  Great song, though).

I’ve heard people say that Tim “needs to change to fit the NFL.  He needs to act more like a football player.” These folks aren’t talking about his game; they’re talking about him as a person.  Ooh, it really boils my blood!

Change to fit in? Well, bah on them!  I say dare to be different.  No one should ever, ever, ever make you feel like you have to fit some absurd standard “they” deem appropriate.

Tim Tebow is a true role model, and if people don’t like it, then maybe that reveals a little something about their true selves. I hope more than anything Tim has the chance to shine in New York. 

Truth Is: My dad is hilarious.  He brought out his fan and there were two big “X’s” drawn in Sharpie marker over two of the buttons.

Me: “Um, Dad?  Why are there two big X’s on your fan?”

Dad: “Because they remind me those two buttons are evil.”

Me: “Evil?”

Dad: “Yeah, well, they screw up my settings, make the thing go WHOOOOOSH, and then it just stops.  Thought it was broken a time or two.  And you know I always end up pushing one of those two stupid buttons.  Not anymore,” he said grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Classic.

Eleven, Part Three

Okay, here's the final set of questions, this time from Catherine. I wanted to keep her questions in the original colors she selected for them. 

Catherine's Questions:

1. What is your biggest fear and why?

                                              

Not having my parents with me one day.  I know it’s the way life goes, but I can’t even think about it, to be honest.  We are so close—our family is small, but good (Lilo & Stitch reference there). 

Really can’t think about any of this…so…moving on…

2. What are your plans for the future?

“Plan” is a four-letter word in my world.  Every single solitary time I use that word, everything falls magnificently to pieces.  So, I try not to “plan” anything.  I just set goals, hold tight to dreams, and try my best.

3. Do you prefer a nice stomach or a nice butt on the opposite sex?

Hmm. Reckon I’d go with stomach.  Truthfully, I really love strong arms and big hands.

4. What are your opinions on gay marriage?

I’m a hopeless romantic, so maybe this is going to sound embarrassingly simple-minded, but here it goes:  Love is about two people, two hearts, two souls, united as one.  Marriage is supposed to be about two people in love who want to spend the rest of their lives together.   When it comes down to it, shouldn’t it be all about love?  And when you look around this big old world, I reckon it could use a little more love.

5. What do you think about Rebecca Black?

*Crickets* I don’t know who she is.

6. How many pairs of heels do you own?

Ha!  A few, but I'm more of a sneaker/boot/espadrille girl. 

7. Share the experience of your first kiss.

It was awkward, but sweet.  He was older than me and had more experience than I had, which made me crazy nervous.  What’s funny is that he was as anxious as I was nervous because he really liked me, and I, apparently, “intimidated” him, which was just completely weird to me since I’m so not intimidating.

Anyway, when he finally made his move, he asked, “May I?” I actually really liked that.  The kiss was gentle, sweet, and, um, I drove him crazy (he told me as much). It was nice to know the kissing thing came naturally.  Gives me a bit of confidence that other things will just come naturally as well. ;)

8. List 3 things you like about yourself, and 3 things you don't like.

Like: 1. If I could, I’d be a real life Santa, just so I could see people happy and help them see that dreams do come true; 2. My night owl ways; 3.My inner strength.

Dislike: 1. I can be really tough on myself, particularly with work and goals—it’s part of that perfectionist thing; 2. I hate that I allow doubt to creep into my mind from time to time; 3. My long-term relationship with stress.

9. What is the worst pickup line you've ever heard? (check out my last post titled - Pickup lines at their worst, for ideas if your stuck)

“Your lips look like pillows…I’d love to lay one on them.”

10. How many hours a day or week do you spend blogging?

I’m not sure, actually—yeah, that’s a boring non-answer.

11. Would you rather have eternal health, wealth or love? Explain.

Love.  Eternal wealth is intangible and cold.  Eternal health means nothing without love.  Love makes the world go ‘round.

As for my tags, I decided to pick seven fellow bloggers, but feel free to snatch these questions up and have fun, if you feel like it:

1.  J. Day
2. Ms. Caboo
3. Anna
4. Hazel
5. PurpleMist
6. Yvonne
7. Janie Junebug

My Questions (I’m going with whimsy, here):

1. If you could have the choice of one superpower, what would it be and why?
2. Which Harry Potter movie is your favorite?  Why?
3. Which Harry Potter book is your favorite?  Why?
4. Do you believe in parallel universes? Why or why not?
5. Do you think aliens exist?  If so, are they E.T. kind or Independence Day mean?
6. What’s the first thought that jumps into your mind when you see the word Disney?
7. Assuming it’s true, and we only know about 10-15% of the ocean’s inhabitants, what do you hope is down there that we have yet to find?
8. What is your favorite movie score?
9. If you found yourself living with seven tiny men, what would their names be?
10.  A big blue genie grants you one particular wish: Change the world into any imaginary world you’ve either read in a book or seen in a film.  Which world would you choose and why?
11. If you could pick one literary or film character and bring him to life to be your soul mate, who would it be and why?

Eleven, Part Two

Today, we have questions from my dear friend Jewels, along with a few more random facts. I knew Jewels would have some awesome questions--she didn't disappoint.

Jewels' Questions:

1. What side of the bed do you sleep on? 

Middle. Yep, I’m that single.

2. Do you believe in ghosts? 

Absolutely, no question. 

3. Would you be willing to go on a cross country (driving) trip with me? 

As willing as I’d be to accept an invite to a Mavs game or NASCAR race. (Translation: Absolutely.)

4. If you could only watch one show for the rest of your life what would it be?

Wow.  Tough.  Friends, I think.  Laughing is what it's all about.

5. If you could only read one author until the end of time who would it be?  

J.K Rowling.  I love her writing style.  Her words move like movies in your mind.  Can’t wait for her upcoming novel for adults!

6. If you HAD to get something pierced what would it be?

I have my ears pierced, so I guess I’d get ‘em done again.  

7. Given a choice of a mystery meaning Chinese symbol, butterfly, or zodiac tattoo which would you pick? (You HAVE to pick one)

Butterfly. I love butterflies.

8. Would you rather have sex with Wilford Brimley/Susan Boyle or give up sex for good?

Well, since this is so not applicable to me, I think it’s safe to say I’d stay the course—no sex.

9. What would you pay for a vaccination that prevents kids from being bitchy, sassy, dickheads?

LOL--So long as there aren't any dangerous side effects...or, you know, so long as it doesn't turn them into zombies *shivers*...I reckon I'd cough up a good amount of dough to ensure we don't release any more asshats into society. 

10. Would you rather serve a week in prison or try and survive for a year alone in a jungle?

I’m going to the jungle--swing on a vine, sing a little Phil Collins, and hope for a half-naked Tarzan.

11. What is it about nice people that attract total idiots?

Would LOVE to crystal ball this answer somehow—in other words, not a friggin clue.  

Random facts: 

6) I keep a box of Lucky Charms in the pantry at all times because it reminds me of my childhood.

                                                                                             
7)  I love watching Murder She Wrote.  Stop laughing.  It has always been a Mom & me kind of show, along with Love Boat and Little House on the Prairie.   Really, stop laughing. ;)

8)   Top Gun is supposed to be a manly-man’s movie, right?  I respectfully and hormonally disagree.  Let’s see: Fighter jets, sexy men in bum-hugging uniforms, and, hello, volleyball scene.  Yeah, it’s eye-candy for women.  "Maverick, you big stud..."

Credit: Paramount Pictures Promotional Images

Tomorrow we have questions from Catherine!

Brosiery: No, Just No.

Look, I’m all for the modern man.  You like opera?  Cool, Niles.  Fancy museums?  Who doesn’t, Frasier?  But this just screams ridiculous. 

Apparently, pantyhose for men is a growing trend. Designer Emilio Cavallini designed a line of unisex tights, and they’re being snatched up by men.

Please, tell me how any woman could seriously go all ooh-ooh, ahh-ahh with a man wearing these.  I’m sorry, but if he revealed these under his pants, I’d burst out laughing, tears, snorts, gags and all. 

I can tell you, if this is in fact a growing trend, then I’m going to be a virgin forever because there’s no way my cherry’s gettin’ popped by a man wearing mantyhose.  Mantyhose?! Good friggin’ grief! 

Credit: Emilio Cavallini

Credit: Emilio Cavallini

So, what do you think? Check box “Sexy,” box “Um, huh?” or box “Hell no.”

Truth Is Thursday--Emotional Dweeb, Yoda Dale, & Random Life Stuff

Truth Is:  I read something that suggested meditating on feelings as a way to de-stress.  WTH?  Feelings are the things that send us into orbit!  How the frig can that calm me down? See, a little irked right now…

Truth Is: Dale Jr. ripped it up in the Duels today, finishing second. 

Truth Is: Dale Jr. ripped it up in the Budweiser Shootout, but was unfortunately collected in a foolish wreck.  And, I gotta say, I think Jeff Gordon’s a great driver and all, but he seems to get a little wobbly-kneed when Dale pushes him.  During the shootout, radio communication reports said that Jeff asked Dale to back off.  Thing is, when Dale was pushing him, they were up front.  If the Yoda of restrictor plate racing was on my rear end, I’d let him Jedi my butt all the way around the track, no questions.  If there was ever someone to trust, it’s him.

Truth Is: Very happy that the two-car tandem stuff seems to have diminished at Daytona.  Give me pack racing any day. 

Truth Is:  Dad.  Sigh.  Yeah, he apparently decided to “lightly drizzle” queso (cheese/salsa) on tater tots. 

My response to Dad: “E. R.  I. C. U. Do those letters ring a really loud bell, by chance?” 

Dad, totally playing coy: “Huh, can’t say they do at the moment.”

*Shakes head*

Truth Is: I love my Mavs.  Just had to say that.  They fight so hard.

Truth Is:  Harry Potter better bring home an Academy Award this Sunday.  It will be a travesty in the film world if this series doesn’t have an Oscar to its name. 

Truth Is: Moisturizer update!  The smell—same.  The result—vast improvement already.  I’m shocked.  Obviously, I’ll need to give it more time, but the drastic difference in my skin has me cautiously optimistic that this stuff will abolish the dryness entirely.  

Truth Is:  AMC is showing Sleepless in Seattle later today.  I should have added it to my top five movies.  Anything Tom Hanks & Meg Ryan, I adore, and this is one of my favorites.  Cry every single time.  I know, I'm a romantic dweeb. I accept this.

A Valentine's Reboot, Part Two

And today's Vomit Day.  Yay.  Can you feel the enthusiasm?  Anyway, here's part two of my Valentine's date from hell. 

 *******

Driveway Roadkill, Part Two: 

Aside from the occasional raspberry when I would forget to lift before moving, dinner went quite smoothly. No food drops, food flings, or gags...that is until Mr. Leaver made me try to eat something, knowing I thought they looked like little bits of mushy cow's brain.

Mr. Leaver: "Just try one for me."

Me: "Oh, all right, but I won't like it."

Mr. Leaver: "You'll like this one."

So, I tried it. Didn't like it. Mr. Leaver started grinning at me while I tried to choke the thing down. I made a very tiny ewy-ick face at him, just to make him laugh.

It's quite unfortunate that at that precise moment, the chef came out and wanted to know how everyone enjoyed their meals.

To make matters worse, my date's family was pretty well-known in the community, so the chef, proud of his work, looked to us first.

Yeah. 

Poor thing--he seemed so anxious to know if we found his cooking satisfactory. Beaming, he looked to me first. Can you guess what he saw?

You guessed it: The leather-pants-wearing-faux-flatulence-problem girl, wearing the ewy-ick expression on her face.

His face went pale; I really thought he might vomit, which would have been very bad, since the little mushy brain-like thing in my mouth pushed me to the ragged edge of vomitville.

I swallowed the last bit as quickly as I could, coughed a little, made a small gagging sound, nervously (sadly) moved in my chair, and tried to assure him that his meal was delicious.

Not thinking he bought it. Not sure if it was the expression, cough, gag, or faux fart that didn't convince him.

Sigh. I do hope he understood after everything.

After dinner: Once in the car, I could tell something was off about Mr. Leaver. Was it the pants? The ewy-ick face? Ugh, the faux-flatulence?

I should point out that Mr. Leaver did NOT bring me any flowers or candy or a cuddly for Valentine's Day. His reason? Because he wanted to take it slow (fine by me!) and he didn't want to "scare" me off. **He knew about Wasn't**  

NOTE: He had not even tried to KISS me yet, much to my surprise.

As the radio played one of my favorite songs, Mr. Leaver fumbled about for a CD. He cut off the radio, put in the CD, and immediately started playing a specific song, saying, "I want you to hear this one."

Uh-oh.

He picked a song that had a very clear message...and it didn't include sleep. Now, the song wasn't Bump N' Grind or Freak Me (those were really good songs, weren't they? Sorry, momentary mind melt), but I got the message.

I can't remember the song specifically--probably because my leather pants and I were busy visiting sweatville all over again--but I do recall some of it was very, very sweet and complementary...still, I got the jist of what it was saying.

He wants to take it slow. He hasn't held my hand.  He hasn't kissed me.  Yet, he wants to go have sex?? 

Seriously?

I didn't say anything, apart from commenting on what a pretty song it was; he didn't say anything. It was THE most awkward drive home. He never followed up with anything.

I kind-of think he wanted me to initiate something...suggest we go back to his place, perhaps. I didn't know what to do...usually the guy actually makes a move or suggests going back to his place...SOMETHING. This was new to me.

So, play a song, and I'm expected to recommend the sex??? Total confusion.

Next thing I know, Mr. Leaver says: "I'm just going to take you back home tonight.  I have an early day tomorrow. Hope you don't mind." His tone was a bit cold, at least to me.

It was pretty early for a date to end. My initial translation on his words: "You didn't pick up on my song and suggest going back to my place, so I'm gonna pout now." I could have been wrong, but that's how it came off.

After the longest drive ever--where I tried to make conversation and he just seemed distant--we finally pulled into my very icy driveway.

We paused for a moment. I felt bad. I didn't want the date to end all awkward and full of misunderstanding. So, I tried to imply that we could take things to the next level (i.e. kissing...since I was a little confused as to why that hadn't happened yet).

Whatever.  It didn't take.

Hmm. Why isn't he moving from that nice warm seat to walk me to my door? Maybe say goodnight with a Valentine's kiss??  Ah, I get it, he's not gonna do either. 

He literally dropped me in the middle of my driveway and drove off without making sure I made it safely to my door.

Nope. I was left in the dark, in the middle of my icy driveway, in leather pants, and brand new heels.

Maybe I misread everything, but I still think, no matter what, you see your date makes it to her door safely... especially a Valentine's date. I'm a southern girl, remember.

I scraped and slid my way to the door, looking like something between the Hunchback of Notre Dame and a turtle. During my long hobbit-like walk to the door, several thoughts ticked across my mind:

What happened to "taking it slow?"

Ya haven't kissed me, but you want to have sex? Huh?

Play a song = girl suggesting sex? Really?  


Am I totally wrong, here?
 
Once I made it safely inside--shocked I didn't fall on my arse--I closed the door on Valentine's Day forever...and wearing leather pants on a formal date.

After about three days of nothing, he called and started calling me "honey" and "dear" and I think even "darling." It was strange and, yet, totally par for the course.

So, there you have it, my top three worst Vomit Days. I think the only reason I don't have more is because of my tendency to hide this time of year. If history is any indication, it's a dang good thing I do.

To all of you who love V-Day: Happy Valentine's Day to you. {{{HUGS}}}

To all of you who don't: Happy February 15th...a.k.a. The Chocolate Sale Day! {{{HUGS}}}

A Valentine's Reboot, Part One

Since tomorrow is the dreaded day, I figured I'd re-post a couple of my classic V-Day failures (and I do mean failures). 

One day, I hope to have at least ONE good V-Day.  Heck, I'd take one relatively decent 14th O'Feb.  I've always thought that one good V-Day would forever change my thoughts on this drab time of year. 

But, for the time being, I hope these failures will give you some insight into my sheer disdain for Vomit Day.  


Driveway Roadkill, Part One:

Who: We'll call him Mr. Leaver.

Date: 3rd. a.k.a. the expected sex date...on my very first official V-Day date. Fabulous timing.

Mood: Excited, hopeful, happy.

Outfit: Oooh, a good one--leather pants, brand new pink top, brand new, tastefully sexy boots with a decent size heel on them. 

Restaurant: Quaint, converted house.  Picture a mid-size bar adjacent a surprisingly small dining area--very intimate. The overwhelmingly quiet atmosphere around the bar and dining area made me nervous.

Me + new heels + small area + insane quiet = possible catastrophe.

Mr. Leaver: "Let's sit at the bar while they're getting our table ready."

The bar stools were unusually tall...dangerously so, actually. With my nice new heels, I lifted and balanced myself gracefully onto the stool. Phew.

Mr. Leaver and I talked for a few moments before he left to go talk to someone (I think he wanted to greet someone his family knew...that whole bit is a blur).

While my date did whatever, the front of house informed me that our table was ready.

*Keep in mind, the following happened very quickly, but it felt like slow motion*

As I tried to slide off the stool, I discovered something the mean science teachers failed to tell us in school:

leather pants + wooden seat = inability to slide, slight stuck feeling, and manufactured farting sounds when attempting to move.

Now, I don't know if there were some unknown variables, like whatever they used to clean the wood, the type of wood, or the type of leather pants I had on, but my rear end was essentially STUCK. 

Oh. Holy. God. 

The height of the stools were such that I couldn't put my foot down and hop off without the possibility of my leathery bottom bringing the stool crashing to the ground. And, as we have already learned, I cannot simply slide off without sounding like I had a flatulence problem.

Growing very hot, I began to sweat--not a good mix with leather.

I had to get off this stupid stool.  I slowly lifted my rear, one bum cheek at a time, and tried to ease myself forward until my feet could touch the floor. In doing so, these very strange *FLAWP* *FLAWP* peeling sounds rang out from my derriere.

The people at the tables closest to the bar kept a measuring eye on me; I couldn't tell if they were amused or if they were waiting to see if I would fall off the stool.

By this time, my feet were halfway to the floor, my body was slightly tilted on the stool, and I was in deep danger of the whole stool tipping over should I move one more inch.

I dared to try one more little slide. The only thing I accomplished was the sound of gas.

Grab Guy (sitting behind me at the bar): "You okay, there?"

Me: "I can't get off the stool."

Grab Guy: "Why?"

Me: "My leather pants--they're sticking to the wood. I need you to lift me off the stool."

Grab Guy: "Um, how?"

Me, sighing: "I need you to stick your hands under my bottom and just...peel me up."

Grab Guy, laughing: "I would, but I have a girlfriend."

Me: "I'm not asking you to grope me...just kindly help me off this thing, otherwise my pants will continue to make obscene sounds and eventually succeed in knocking over the stool. Please, I need your help...I can't reach the floor. Now, stick your hands under there and peel!"

Grab Guy, quite literally laughing his rear end off, aided in my dilemma, and I was able to hop off the stool with his, um, forklift-type-help. I did stumble a bit and, in doing so, my heels made an appallingly loud clip-clopping sound as people turned to look at the crazed leather-pants-wearing girl.

I thanked Grab Guy, and rejoined Mr. Leaver--the clip-clopping prompted him to leave his acquaintances and attend to his frazzled date. After assuring Mr. Leaver that all was well, we followed the waiter to our table...

...which had wooden seats.

It was only the beginning.

Bridget Jones, You Disappoint Me.

Bridget Jones, friend and mascot to all single, thirty-something women around the globe, has just made me want to chuck eggs at my television.

On a particularly drab Sunday, boredom struck at approximately 2:17 a.m. When boredom hits a sometimes insomniac, certain things that one would find exceedingly dull become the most interesting things in the world, like infomercials or, in this case, special features on The Edge of Reason DVD.  

Under the special features, there was a "Who's Your Man" quiz.  All I have to do is answer a series of questions and it will choose a man that is right for me.  At the end of the quiz, it will evaluate my answers and show me who my perfect partner is: Mark Darcy or Daniel Cleaver.

If I get Daniel, I should just hang up underwear and call it a day, I thought to myself.

Here is a sampling of the questions and answers I selected:

What is your idea of a perfect kiss?  So, it's going to be either sweet, tender, with a bit of tongue or passionate, purposeful, all tongue.  Well, ideally you want the sweet to end up at the passionate, so both...but I can't choose both.  Dilemma.  I guess if we're talking for starters, I'd go with the sweet, tender, bit o' tongue.

You've just seen an unfaithful ex after a long time.  How do you react?  Easy, I remember how miserable he made me feel. 

How do men in tuxedos make you feel? Um, hot under the collar, for sure. James Bond, anyone?

After more questions like the above, it was finally time to find out who my perfect man will be! Terribly exciting for a boring night!

Daniel ding-dong, but v. bad:

Credit: Universal Studios Publicity Photos

Or Mark, double ding-dong and v. good:

Credit: Universal Studios Publicity Photos

Mark or Daniel...Mark or Daniel...who will it be?

Ah, here comes my ideal mate!!!

*Screen Flash*

Neither Mark nor Daniel is right for you.

WHAT?! NEITHER?! THAT WASN'T AN OPTION WHEN I STARTED THIS DANG QUIZ!!!!

You are too carefree and cool to let any man tie you down.  You are enjoying being single on your terms.  The chase and being in control are what turn you on. You're not ready to fall in love, settle down, and have babies--there are just too many men and not enough time.

HUH?! Apart from being single on my terms, I must wholly disagree with its entire evaluation.

This is where boredom turned into determination: I retook the quiz...several times...until I got an actual man. Pathetic, I know, but I suddenly thought I might jinx myself if I accepted "neither" as my answer.

Finally, I got a man:

Credit: Universal Studios Publicity Photos

Mark Darcy: You are a Mark girl.  You're looking for a man who accepts you for what you are and loves your wobbly bits.  Mark is that sort of man: kind, considerate, coy, stable, and sweet. Men like Mark are gentlemen through and through and beneath that conservative exterior beats a heart of gold, which needs a woman like you to keep it pumping.

Ah, much better. Perfectly on point. I approve. See, it got me absolutely right! *we won't mention its initially incorrect assessment or the subsequent tries it took for the dang thing to finally give me a man*

No, It Doesn't Mean Love

Saddest day of the year: December 26th. I miss Christmas. What can I say? I'm a holiday person and I feel really sad when it ends. But it was a wonderful, wonderful Christmas that I wish I could rewind! I hope everyone had the best Christmas imaginable!

I have so much to share--including a truly mortifying me moment on Christmas day. *shakes head*

But, for now, I just wanted to check in and, well, basically gripe.  I'm sorry in advance.

Gripe #1: Romo injured.

I know I run hot and cold when it comes to Romo, but an injury to his hand could have been avoided.  Cowboys lost what turned out to be a meaningless Christmas Eve game. Not great, but not major...so long as his hand is okay, which they *think* it will be. The big showdown will be this weekend in New York. Winner takes all. Puke.

Gripe #2:  Idiot people who claim to know basketball, but don't.

Mavs. Sigh. Lost. Bad. Two nights in a row. Very bad.  Here's the thing: they are not the same team as last year's championship group; they have new players now. Everyone who knows basketball understands it will take time for the team to mesh, and without any real preseason, it's going to take a while.

Still, immediately following the Christmas loss to Miami, you see a headline calling the Mavericks' championship a fluke, a claim which, according to the "sports writer," was substantiated by the way the Heat defeated the Mavs in the first game of the season.

Honestly, how asinine do you have to be? The Miami Heat have the same team they had last year, so of course they're going to be good; the Mavs are, essentially, a new team and will need time to come together as a group.

As for calling their championship a fluke: Go on, say it if it makes you feel better.  Mavs' fans will just sit back and smile...with our Championship team, trophy, and banner. 

Gripe #3: Saying Merry Christmas does not mean "I Love You."

...nor does it mean any of the following:

* I want to have your baby

* Will you marry me?

* I have a crush on you

* You are my soul mate.

Merry Christmas simply means...wait for it...MERRY CHRISTMAS, Happy Holidays, Joy to the world, and all those good holly jolly, peace on earth things.

Oh, and to the men (believe me, there are a few) who think if they say Merry Christmas the women will somehow take it to mean you love them, want to marry them, and want them to have your baby...please, get over yourselves.

Okay, done griping now.

Sorry for that.

Feel much better though.

Holiday Wishes for an Asshat

Some men are like the abominable snowman in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer--mean, arrogant, and slightly stupid...until you play on said stupidity and yank out all of their teeth.  Only then will they finally see how far up their own anus they've been.

Consider the following my cosmic attempt at tooth extraction of a truly first class asshat.  And, since it's Christmas, this shall be done in fine holiday style, complete with iconic movie references. 

Holiday Wishes for an Asshat:

While in NYC, I wish for you to hit on a Rockette, who will see through your inflated ego and promptly high-kick your butt to 34th street, where you will ask Santa for a pair of balls.

After a good stare-down, Santa sarcastically does the "Ho-Ho-Ho," before shoving you down a nearby slide, which will deliver you to a grand, empty home in Chicago...empty apart from an eight-year-old boy.

Convinced you're a burglar, the boy will put one heck of a hurting on you, equipped with burning door handles, blow torches, and flying paint cans, one of which will knock you unconscious.

When you awaken, you find yourself under a chair in the form of a cat with a string of Christmas lights in your mouth. The ghost of Christmas future indicates a future as pitiful as this, should you continue your jackassy ways.  And just to make sure you get the point, the homeowner plugs in the lights and POUF! Your fried kitty self is dumped with the chair next to the gutter where Cousin Eddie emptied the full shi*!er. 

What a sad, smelly way to go.

Sweaty and panicked, you wake up and vow to hang up your asshat forever. 

The end. 

The beginning.

So, if you have a fellow asshat in your life (male or female), do them a favor by wishing them a cosmic tooth extraction. 'Tis the season, after all. 

 

Nothing Like A Little Frosting

Well, so much for catching up on blogs over the weekend. Slowly, but surely, I’ll catch up. Hate when I fall behind on reading.

When Mom and I get going on a topic, we tend to resemble Lucy and Ethel (of I Love Lucy).  This weekend was no exception.

During the holidays, Mom’s kitchen most closely resembles what you would envision Mrs. Santa’s cooking domain to look like: cookies, candies, cakes, and, on this particular weekend, cupcakes.

There were only a few cupcakes left (Dad inhaled them, very bad) when Mom said to grab one while I could.

The cupcake had the cutest Frosty the Snowman ornament adorning the icing. Except it wasn’t an ornament. Oh, no.  It was a ring. Now, this might not seem like much, but with literally everyone, everywhere getting engaged, it’s a little…ironic. 

This is where Lucy and Ethel took over.

Me: “It’s a ring.”

Mom: “Fine catch.”

Me, not missing a beat: “Isn’t it beautiful,” I said, slipping it on my left ring finger. “So lucky.”

Mom: “There are many benefits to marrying a snowman.  He’ll never forget your birthday.”

Me: “Hell, he’ll think my birthday is everyday—could be beneficial in the present department—and I’ll never appear to age.”  Pause. “If he ticks me off, all I have to do is take off the hat and hide it.”

Mom: “Or stick him in a greenhouse.”

Me: “I’ll always have an ‘in’ with Santa.”

Mom: “The best part?  He goes away at least nine months out of the year. Honey, it’s a dream marriage.”

Laughter-snorts followed.

Behold my lovely ring—note the delicate blue and pink plastic. Bit narcissistic that he had to have his face on said ring, but, you know, you make concessions. ;)

Happiness Survey!

Jay had this survey on his blog and his answers were so much fun to read, he said we could do the same. So, here we go!

What makes you happy?

* Christmas makes me sublimely happy. Christmas music, movies, shows, decorations, food…everything.

* My parents, who mean the world to me.

* Football, NASCAR, Basketball, Baseball, etc.

* Soda. Yeah, I know. Bad for me makes me happy.

* Dreams.

What was your childhood like? Honestly, I couldn’t ask for a better childhood. It was a childhood full of love, laughter, and so many traditions. I miss it everyday.

What was your first crush like? Mind-numbing.  It’s actually funny to think back on it now—how every little look held a hidden message or how every “and, the, huh, uh, and um” he uttered just had to mean something.

Did you ever have a celebrity crush? What was that like? Troy Aikman was my big crush in the 90s. Well, and The Right Kind of Love singer, Jeremy Jordan.  Honestly, especially with Troy, the crush filled a void…it kept me company. I guess, while others had boyfriends, I had an unrealistic crush—the best kind, really, because they can’t hurt you—which is why I’ll be hanging on to my Bing Crosby crush for eternity. ;)

Do you like sports? Um, do we remember how I was during the Mavericks’ run for the Championship? Need I say more?

Have you ever done sports? Yeah, no. I watch, not play.

What music do you like? Everything, really. From Indie and instrumental to R&B and country, I listen to it all.  I love American Standards (Big Band) as well—it’s something I grew up with and hold very close to my heart.

What instruments do you play? Yeah, none, unless you count tapping out songs with your nails on the keyboard when boredom sets in? Yeah, didn’t think so.

Did you like school?  I didn't like how cruel kids could be growing up.  As I got older, it became more about grades than anything else, especially in college and beyond. People didn’t call me Hermione for nothing. I was obsessed with getting A’s. To this day, I have dreams (nightmares?) that I’ve forgotten to study for an exam. I’m very glad to awaken from those dreams, I tell you.

                            

What is your favorite color and why? Pink! I have no idea why, but I just love it!

Do you like where you are living? Yes, it’s a great little town.

                                     

If you could live anywhere else in the world, where would it be? Ooh, that’s tough. I would say Diagon Alley or maybe Santa’s village. ;)

What was your favorite book growing up and what is your favorite now? Growing up, I loved the classics like Charlotte’s Web, Anne of Greene Gables, and The Boxcar Children. I also loved the Nancy Drew books and Babysitter’s Club series. Today, I love the True Blood series.  Until I find a new book love, my present day favorite must go to the Harry Potter series. 

               

What is the answer to life, the universe, and everything else? Not sure there is an answer, but if I had to guess, I would say: do the best you can, be the best person you can, remember The Golden Rule, have faith, be true to yourself, love and cherish your family…oh, and count your blessings instead of sheep. ;)

Do you know where your towel is? Um, huh? I feel stupid. Am I missing something with this one? Anyone know what this means? Uh, it’s hanging in the bathroom. I feel off the charts on the stupid meter right now.  Do they mean the kind you whoosh around during a football game??? 

Superhero Me!

So, here we go! Lex has given us a challenge: to create, write, and draw a superhero version of ourselves. Using your super power suggestions, I crafted my superhero self! And, um, after the Cowboys’ unbelievable loss (our coach basically iced our own kicker…and it worked.), I had to work out the tension and got a little carried away with this superhero challenge. *blushes* 

The Frisky Virgin, superhero-style

Code Name: The Frisky Virgin

Description: From the deepest, darkest corners of night to the blindingly bright rays of day, she moves, unnoticed by human eyes, watching, listening, and waiting. Delusional dizziness is doomed! Ignorance be gone! Douche-bags beware! Liar-liar pants on fire she shall declare!

Super Powers:

• The brutal truth she speaks will penetrate your brain and replace the stupid with common sense and accountability. (Might have been useful for the Cowboys coach yesterday…icing your own kicker…just when you think you’ve seen it all).

• Can move about unnoticed, completely invisible to human eyes (yeah, this is so a real power of mine)

• Her palms mysteriously soaked the power of the Patronus and Petrificus Totalus charms from the pages of Harry Potter.  Together, they bind wrongdoers in an impenetrable web of freezing light and wispy blue jays (TFV’s Patronus). (Dang, I wish!)

• By virtue of her own virtue, TFV is able to save women from giving it up to a lying douche-bag (and vice versa—save men from falling for a vicious, ill-intentioned, sight-setting, money-grubbing witch…’cause those do exist and they always seem to win…not anymore!).  (Kinda want a theme song now).

• Irresistible to men when she chooses to be visible. (*snort* wish this were true).

Bonus abilities: Fly, super speed, and super strength. (really, who doesn’t want these?)

Tools:

*Bejeweled “V” on her belt: glows and vibrates [hey, if phones can be set to vibrate, so can my bejeweled“V”] to alert her of someone needing assistance; can also detach and be used as a smart-weapon (really, couldn’t this be some character on True Blood, minus the obvious cheesy bits?) 

Thank you, Lex! This was so much fun!!!

Lion King Cuteness, Blog Award, & Kiss It.

Kiss It: We have some randomness this Friday, mainly because my brain has declared an early weekend due to its state of pi** off.  A certain HE made a cameo and proceeded to, yet again, show just how incredibly screwed up he is about things, namely how to treat others. The funny thing is, I'm not convinced he even gets what he does or says. I'm not mad or hurt on a personal level, just ticked on a human-to-human level. There's a way of treating people, you know, and it doesn't involve impersonating the Riddler.  I know this is all cryptic, but, like I said, the brain has left its pink slip for the day. 

Lion King Cuteness: Mom told me Dad asked her if they had the DVD The Lion King.  She didn't think they had it, so Dad hopped on over to Target and came home with the DVD. 

Once home, Mom told me she had to ask him about his interest in the DVD:

Mom: "Honey, why did you get The Lion King?"

Dad, a little coy: "'Cause I like the music."

Isn't that cute? This is a man who likes war movies, action films, and comedy-type things, like Wedding Crashers and Stripes, yet here he is buying a Disney movie. Too darn cute.

Blog Award: I received a wonderful award from the super adorably kind Purple.Mist! Thank you so much, sweetie, and huge congrats on finishing your exams!!!

Now, I'm supposed to pass this pretty award to 15 bloggers, but you know I'm ridiculously bad about that.   So, with it being the holidays and all, EVERYONE snatch it up and enjoy.

Extra Random Fun: Here's what y'all have suggested so far for my superhero alter ego super powers...

With invisibility already in check...

Lost.In.Idaho: Super honesty (no sugar coating--brutal bluntness only).

J.Day: Knock sense into people (I'm thinking this could work with the super honesty--like the result of brutal bluntness is common sense.)

LOLA: Harry & Hermione powers. (So, here, I'm thinking about taking Expecto Patronum and Petrificus Totalus and combining them into one super spell).

Loving your suggestions!!!  If y'all have any others, bring 'em on!!!

So, this weekend, aside from sweating over sports, I'll be working up my superhero identity--very fun. Great idea, Lex!!!

Have a great weekend!!!

Dig My Car, Baby

I hate to admit where I was when this little gag-me moment took place.  Please keep in mind, it was getting late and I hadn't eaten.

McDonalds. I was at the Golden Arches. I know, awful, right? Here it is right after the annual Thanksgiving gorge-fest and I'm fast-food-ing it up.  I blame the smell of freshly fried fries and grease.

Anyway, while in the parking lot at Mickey D's, Cool Dude decided to give me his best "wassup, baby" move.

Now, I need to paint this picture as clearly as possible for y'all:

1. Having not eaten anything, I was somewhere between a fainting princess and a ravenous bi*#$ wolf. 
2. My nose was busy having a love affair with the smell of smoking hot fries coming from inside Mickey D's.
3. On a scale of 1-10, my desire to have a move put on me was a -5.
4. Did I mention we're in the parking lot of McDonalds? Yeah. A little grease and a little flirt? Not ideal. I just want my bad-for-me food, you know?

Cool Dude had the wassup head move down pat.  No words, just the bob and a semi-smile.  I smiled back, not wanting to be rude (although, I strongly suspect the corners of my mouth turned up because I was one step closer to the fries).

He then stood there, chomping his gum, posing by his fancy BMW with tinted windows. He had kind-of a "look at me, baby, aren't I sexy with my 007 car" vibe.

Well, let's see where the sexy ranks, shall we: His pants were so far down that the pockets had to be near his knees.  He had his hat turned backwards with the bill flipped up, and the brightest pi**-yellow shoes I have ever seen. I bet you they glow in the dark...glow in the dark pi** shoes. It's like he missed the mark and hit his toes.

After the pose, he slowly got in his car, put the driver's window down, turned the stereo to sonic boom, and ripped out of there.

Not sure what the heck all that posing was about...or if he was just showing off...or if he expected me to swoon, but the next song that played on the radio was so ironic, I had to laugh. Pretty much sums it all up for me.

Here's the part that really sums it up (Back When by Tim McGraw):

...We got too complicated
It's all way over-rated
I like the old and out-dated
Way of life

Back when a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crack's what you were doing
When you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said I'm down with that
Well it meant you had the flu
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when...

~written by Stan Lynch, Stephony Smith and Jeff Stevens; performed by Tim McGraw.


I hear you, Tim--I miss back when, too, even if it's a back when I never knew. 

Truth Is Thursday, Thanksgiving Themed!

First and foremost, I hope EVERYONE is having a wonderful Thanksgiving!!!

Truth is: COWBOYS WON! Whoop-Whoop!!! Turkey Day with a Cowboys win makes digesting much easier.

Truth is: After the game, CBS did a little tribute to all who work behind the scenes. They show pictures of everyone and their families while playing a song. It’s really nice.  Anyway, this year, they played Keith Urban’s Without You, which he wrote for his wife, Nicole Kidman.  I LOVE that song—who doesn’t want a man who loves like that?! I’ll post the video below.

Truth is: This morning, the Christmas music station I listen to did something that even made my mom’s jaw drop. 

In between songs, the DJ started talking about random stuff and then mentioned something about wish lists. I thought she was going to talk about the top toys kids are asking for this season, like they normally do. I couldn’t have been more wrong.  

DJ Lady: “…I’ll let you know what single people  are wishing for this holiday season.”

Really? We now have single-people specific wish lists for Santa? And here I always thought wish lists were specific to the individual, regardless of social status.

Couldn’t stick around and find out what topped the single person’s wish list, but I bet whatever it was didn’t match my wish list, since my #1 is sports related.  So…there…you sorta not nice DJ Lady person. *sticking tongue out*

Truth is: I really, really want to ride a float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. 

Truth is: My mom’s kitchen smells so good…and the fridge with all the leftovers is the best smelling fridge this side of the moon.

Truth is: Will not be Black Friday shopping.  Will be sitting in front of television for football.  Must be ready for football.  Watching football right now, actually. I do love football.  Can I possibly type football any more times?  Probably. ;)

Truth is:  Think I over-stuffed my tummy.  It’s tradition to over-stuff on Thanksgiving. Definitely lived up to said tradition. 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!!

Here’s the video I mentioned above: