"My Doctor Is A Woman. Damn it."

Slowly, but surely, I'm catching up on blogs. My mom went to the doctor for a routine test. About an hour after my mom arrived at the doctor's office, my phone rings.

Me: "Hello?"

Mom: "Hi, honey! I'm at the doctor's office. You know, you're right, they really do smell...doctor's offices. Anyway, they did the test and we are waiting on some preliminary results."

Me, trying to keep the worry out of my voice: "How do they think you are doing? Have they said anything at all?"

Mom, gasping: "Well, I didn't have any pain or swelling or anything like that. Pushed all over me. Wasn't thrilled, but was very happy when nothing hurt! They said my symptoms sound pretty basic."

Me, relieved: "Well, that's good news! Basic is good, right?"

Mom: "Yes, but..."

Me, frantic: "But, what?"

Mom: "My doctor is a woman. Damn it."

Me, perplexed: "Um, what?"

Mom: "I was hoping for a single man, kind-of like Keanu Leeves--"

Me: "Reeves."

Mom: "Oh, yes, of course...anyway, you know, from the film Something's Gotta Give? But, no, I get the woman. She's very nice, though."

Me: "You wanted Keanu Reeves. How did Dad take that one?"

Mom: "Oh, sweetie, not for me...although I wouldn't stomp my feet, whine, and run at the prospect of him treating me...might be the only time I'd willingly slip into one of those hideous little gowns, but...no, no, for you."

Me: "For me? What?"

Mom: "Don't you worry, I've got my eyes peeled."

I just couldn't help but laugh. Only my mom goes in for medical stuff and makes it her intention to sniff the place out for a single man for her daughter. After receiving a new medication, my mom left the doctor's office and called to let me know she was unsuccessful at spying a single man. Alas, there weren't any single men that she saw. In fact, I believe her exact words were, "All women. Unbelievable. Not a man in sight. Very unlucky. If I have to go back, you can bet I'm asking!"

I love my mom. Not loving the need for her to try and set me up, but I think that's just Mom 101...it's in their DNA. Comes with the territory. 

Hark Go The Blog Awards!

I have two utterly amazing blog awards to give thanks for and to pass to other wonderful, deserving blogger buddies.

First, I know I am so far behind on blog reading--between everyday life, my seemingly perpetual sentence in Singletonville, cooking a Thanksgiving dinner, and worrying about my mom 24/7, I've had little time for much else...other than sleep, which I have tried to squeeze in when possible...but I do believe I'm taking on a zombie-like quality. Please forgive me.

Okay, first award: I'm A Shiny Turkey. No, really, I am. And I cooked one, too (yeah, I know, lame joke).


My wonderful friend, J. Day, over at The Ramblings Of Charlie Brown (Check out her blog--it is vastly entertaining and she is just a truly wonderful person) awarded me this yummy award--thank you so much. *hugs*

The rules are simple: Pass it to 3 or 4 bloggers and tell a story relating to any of the following--intoxication, food, kitchen, cooking/baking, or holiday.

Well, I reckon my recent Thanksgiving cooking adventure qualifies...especially the part where I inadvertently burned up my mom's stove top, rendering it completely useless. Or, maybe, I could talk about the time we had an ice storm in Dallas during the Christmas holiday. Ice storms happen in Texas, but for it to happen just in time for Christmas was pretty cool.  Hmm, maybe I could talk about friends. You know, how REAL friends call to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. My BFF called first thing at 8:30 a.m. Wasn't (who is quickly turning into He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named a.k.a the snake-like Voldemort) doesn't. Nope. Pretty revealing, if you ask me. Heck, I wish everyone a Happy Anything every year--it's just...polite...and nice...and the human thing to do. Anyway, I digress.

Here you go fellow bloggers--a turkey award for you (I figure it still counts because turkeys are tradition throughout the whole of the holidays): Juliana, Alessandra, Ms. Caboo, Jewels, and Martha

My second blog award comes from another dear blogger friend: Average Girl (Tracy) at It's An Average Life. She is such a sweetheart and whenever she comments or blogs, she just makes my day a little brighter. You will want to visit her blog. This award is called...are you ready...love this...The Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award. Thank you so much Tracy. Um, is it wrong that I really want a piece of that strawberry pie?

There aren't any rules that I could see with this one, so I will do what Tracy did and pass this forward to three bloggers (though I could pick everyone!): Yvonne, Jen, and Rebekah

Two yummy, delicious blog awards that, quite frankly, are making me hungry.

Thank you again for thinking of me. *hugs to you both*

A Happy Thanksgiving...With A Dash Of Panic And A Sprinkle Of Nausea

I hope everyone had a wonderful, safe, healthy, and happy Thanksgiving Day.

Ours was wonderful (minus the Cowboys loss--will cover in a moment).  My mom felt well enough to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner. She was overwhelmed  and proud that I undertook the whole dinner on my own (with her as my coach, of course--really, the Cowboys should hire her) and actually pulled it off. Seeing her happy and smiling made my day.

The sweet potatoes turned out just right, thank goodness. My mom eyeballs the ingredients, so I didn't have real measurements to go by with this one...I had to guess--really not a good idea for me. Maybe I had Thanksgiving luck on my side or something. Whatever it was, I am grateful.

Turkey: Well, no one told me just how grotesque it is to remove the, um, insides of the thing. Ick. It took everything in me to keep from gagging. Couldn't stop the watery eyes and the slight curl of my lip, however. Anyway, when the moment of truth arrived....

He turned out just right.

Um, except for one nearly catastrophic mess-up. When moving the turkey from the oven, I bobbled the pan and some of the juices spilled over the edge and onto my mom's old stove top. More specifically, the juices went down into a fan switch on the stove. Next thing I knew, a strong electrical wire-like burning smell filled the kitchen area and smoke started rising from the stove.

My mom began panicking, while my dad calmly went to shut-off the circuit breaker to the stove and lower oven.

Result: My mom's stove is now no more. Broken. Destroyed. The plus side? She's been wanting a new stove for a loooong time, so I guess, in a way, it's a good thing.

It's just not Thanksgiving without something to make your stomach lurch into your throat and out your eyes.

Speaking of lurching stomachs...

Dallas Cowboys: Well, we won the game...it was in the palm of our hand...then Roy Williams coughed it up.  There is a difference between smart football and selfish football. Roy Williams caught the pass for a first down, setting us up for a score.  Did he protect the ball? No. Did he just fall down after catching the ball and  getting the first down? Heck no. Did he carelessly hold the ball in one arm, continue fighting for unneeded yardage and fumble in the process? Naturally.

We won't even talk about our sporadic kicker.

So, all in all, the Cowboys put on a show and put up a fight against the defending Super Bowl champs. I'm proud of them...despite a little post-game nausea.

Survived cooking Thanksgiving dinner--Mission COMPLETE. And you know what? I actually enjoyed cooking. Maybe I'll audition for Hell's Kitchen next. Just kidding. Ramsay couldn't handle me...and I'd probably break his stove. ;)

Now we can officially say....HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Thanksgiving Cooking Part III: Swiss Green Beans; Sweet Potatoes; Fruit Salad

I'm done! Well, except for the turkey tomorrow morning, for which I am setting an alarm clock. Doubt I'll sleep in with the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade on so early. I LOVE LOVE LOVE the parade!

I panicked a little when the turkey wasn't thawing fast enough. My mom told me to add some water to the pan with the turkey--that seems to be working nicely.

Mission: Swiss Green Bean Casserole, Sweet Potatoes, and Fruit Salad. 

Swiss Green Beans: This yummy dish has it all. The green beans are cooked in a mixture of sugar, butter, pepper, onion, and sour cream. The mixture is poured into a casserole dish then topped with grated Swiss cheese and warm buttered corn flakes. (Note to self: Open sugar bags with caution. Had a most unfortunate incident with the sugar)

Note to self: Figure out the best way to cut an onion--started while cutting for the stuffing. Clearly didn't figure out a better way for this dish. We're talking seriously burning tears.

This one requires you to add the ingredients super fast, so I had a couple of issues with nervous hands, but managed getting it all together without spilling too much.  

Sweet Potatoes: My all time favorite dish (I was so afraid of messing this one up). After placing the sweet potatoes in a large, flat dish, I added a mixture of butter, brown sugar, pecans, and orange juice. It wasn't bad at all, although my mom doesn't know exactly how much brown sugar and orange juice she uses (she can eyeball it). We'll find out tomorrow if I got it right or not. It sure smelled good. I'll take a pic when I give it the final touch before warming it: marshmallows.

The last thing I did was a kid friendly fruit salad my mom told me about...um, yeah, it's pink--couldn't be a better color for me! It's fun, colorful, and a great way to get kids and non-fruit-eating adults to eat the healthy stuff. It has fruit...and marshmallows, whipped cream, and jello. Didn't I say it was kid-friendly?

Well, day one of cooking is done. No major catastrophes; nothing burned. I've had a fantastic coach: My mama.

Mission: Swiss Green Bean Casserole, Sweet Potatoes, and Fruit Salad--COMPLETED

Tomorrow: Turkey and final touches. I really hope I don't dry the turkey out too much--that's my biggest concern...a Griswold Turkey. 

Thanksgiving Cooking Part II: Stuffing

The stuffing was a massive undertaking.

The Mission: Sausage & Cornbread Stuffing

Tasks: Chop vegetables; cook sausage; cook veggies & sausage in melted butter; mix in large pot with dry foods (cornbread, toast, spices--sage), periodically add chicken stock.

Tricky Part: There is no real science to how much stock or spices/sage to use. I had to keep adding until it tasted like my mama's. 

After lots of trial and error....I finally got it! 

I give you Sausage & Cornbread Stuffing! Tomorrow, after going into the oven for a bit, the top will have a nice, brown, crusty top.

Mission: Cornbread & Sausage Stuffing--COMPLETE

Up Next: Swiss Green Beans, Sweet Potatoes, & Fruit Salad.

Thanksgivng Cooking Part I

Wake-up: Much too early after going to bed much too late. Will only sleep an hour more.

Wake-up II: Oh Holy Turkey! Slept over 6 more hours!! Very bad start to first Thanksgiving cooking spree! Will now be a cooking sprint!! Oh Gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh. Must not panic.

Haven't slept much since my mom hasn't been well...usually can go on very little, if any, sleep. Why my body chose today to pass out for extra hours I will never understand! Unbelievable!

Lunch: Mission-Cornbread for stuffing recipe.

Okay, so, I use Jiffy cornbread mix--it's what my mom uses for the stuffing; she makes stand-alone cornbread from scratch.

Directions: mix with 1 egg and 1/3 cup milk.

Sounds simple enough.

Will appear slightly bumpy.

Er, what's slightly bumpy?

Stirring ingredients...see bumps...um, okay, so, at what point is it just slightly bumpy? Reckon if I mix it a bit longer, that will suffice.

After about 5 minutes of stirring, mixture appears about right--little bumps, but mostly smooth.

Pour mixture into pan; bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes.

With my trusty Ove-Glove firmly in place, I approach scary oven, shaking ever-so-slightly. (yes, I have a fear of the oven...no idea why). 

Done. In. Cooking.

20-25 minutes later: Voila! CORNBREAD! Hurray! It smells delicious and is a perfect golden-brown. 

Mission: Cornbread--COMPLETE.

Next up: Stuffing. 

The XXX Annual Thanksgiving Grocery Trip

Every year it's the same: someone trips and falls on their face, unloads a load of apples, oranges, or some other produce all over the floor, or slams into a display...you know, the usual embarrassing grocery store stuff.

Last year, while passing the fish market section, I began gagging...massive, borderline hurling-type gagging. I'm not a fan of the smell of fish. In order to stop said gagging, I hurried down the cereal aisle where, I'm sorry to say, I terrified an elderly couple, who were simply trying to say hello. I gagged--badly--in their faces. After a brief explanation, they laughed and went on their way.  I continued gagging into baked goods.

Today was no exception. Dressed in my very favorite one-size-too-big jeans, I was ready for this year's Thanksgiving adventure.

Absent gagging, I had to deal with a very cranky dad in canned goods. Eventually, he did shed the cranky pants somewhere around the cookies...where I left him to indulge in a treat, while I went to find sage, almond extract, and jello.

Jello moment: Squeezing between two men and their talkative wives, I grabbed two boxes of jello...while knocking about a half dozen more off the shelf, into a display, and onto the floor. It was one of those moments where everyone stops what they are doing to point, stare, and laugh. I had to laugh too. The irony? It was cherry jello. Sigh. Cherry. The jokes are endless.

XXX moment: Turkey gravy will forever be my nemesis. The particular brand my mom uses was sold out. I swiftly called Mom and began listing all sorts of alternatives. This listing took me from the top shelf all the way to the bottom, where I had to stoop down. I felt a strange breeze along my lower back, but brushed it off. After nearly five minutes of crouching tiger, I realized I had non-hidden-butt-crack-dragon. That's right. My one-size-too-big jeans slipped down, exposing the top of my bum cheeks and a little crack.

Mortified, I jumped, yanked up my jeans, and found two men smiling to my left...to my right, one smiling man...and yet another grinning man stood perched by a display of soft drinks, talking on the phone, watching me as I turned to leave. The look on his face was something between "Should I tip her" and "I need a Viagra."

Great. Am now a stripper. Why didn't I just start grinding against the gravy display while I'm at it?

What's worse? My dad, in between hysterics, informs me that the guy on the phone--the one who I swear contemplated tipping me--is a store manager...and knows my dad.

So, in summation: The virgin in me sends a not-so-subtle signal by knocking off multiple boxes of cherry jello, while the slut in me apparently decided it was time to air a little out.

Another classic shopping excursion in the books.

Time to cook...I can only imagine what this will be like...actually, I can't, I really can't.

Thanksgiving Should Be Interesting

First, I promise to catch up in the next couple of days. I was hit hard with a marathon headache today. Yuck.

Anyway, I've made what could be a terrible decision.

Since my mom hasn't been well, I've decided to cook Thanksgiving dinner.

Um...for the first time.

Now, Mom doesn't know this just yet...not entirely sure she will be open to this--she ALWAYS cooks Thanksgiving dinner and never accepts help. But I really don't want her to overdo; she needs to take it easy.

I'm not exactly a kitchen buff. 

So, I'm hoping you will send me tons and tons of blog-support as I take on Thanksgiving dinner. 

Did I mention I'm afraid of the oven?

Oh, Lord, help me.

Cheering section needed.

Dallas Cowboys--That's 3 Wins, Baby! Mavs--Thank you! Jimmie Johnson--Just Wow.

Wonderful weekend for my Texas teams!

Dallas Cowboys: Yes, yes, it's only 3 wins for my Cowboys, but, hey, they're wins. The Cowboys handily defeated the Detroit Lions today before heading into their annual Thanksgiving Day game this coming Thursday. This year will be a test for my 'Boys--we have to face the reigning Super Bowl champs, the New Orleans Saints. Yeah. I may want to have my turkey well before the game. I'm already a little gag-ish.

Dallas Mavericks: After losing to the Bulls, the Mavericks came back and defeated the Atlanta Hawks, making my family very happy. Dirk is just pure joy to watch.

NASCAR NEWS: Jimmie Johnson and the 48 team won their 5th STRAIGHT NASCAR Sprint Cup Championship. That's 5 in a row, folks. Whether you are a 48 fan or not, it is hard to be anything other than completely gobsmacked by what he has accomplished. He and crew chief Chad Knaus are one heck of a dynamic duo. Congratulations to the 48 team and Hendrick Motorsports for a 5th consecutive title.

As for my driver, well, we just have to look to next season. I imagine there will be some changes to the 88 team. Something has got to give there. If given the cars (and that special kind of chemistry between crew chief and driver) Jimmie has had, I have no doubt Dale would be celebrating wins...and probably one or more championships. I'm a believer in timing--when it's right, it will happen. 'Til next year.

My Mama Is My Best Friend

Yes, I have a BFF and he's wonderful, like the brother I never had. But my real best friend is my mom. Yesterday's faux-husband incident had us laughing hysterically late last night after the games that we just had to complain about (mainly the Mavericks losing).

My whole life she has said or done things that only happen in movies; things happen to my mom that are just unbelievable--either jaw dropping amazing or seriously embarrassing, but always hilarious.

I inherited the seriously embarrassing, but sometimes hilarious gene. Yeah, not as good, but it keeps life interesting.

My parents and I are so close--they are good, strong, southern people. They've lived their lives doing things the right way...being good to people, even though they haven't always received the same in return. I've seen their hearts break and all I want is to give to them what they have always given me: hope.

When one of my parents isn't well, I fall to pieces. I just cannot imagine my life without them. They are all I have in this world. I want my daddy to walk me down the aisle; I want my mama to see her baby girl in a wedding dress; I want my mama and daddy to be grandparents...they deserve to be.

But with each passing year, I worry I may fail my parents...and fail my heart. Though I know they are proud of me, I feel I owe them more...no, I DO owe them more. And, boy, would they protest if they knew I was thinking this way. They just want me to be happy.

I'm probably not making a bit of sense right now...that's what happens when my heart takes over. Reckon what I'm trying to say is this: I love my parents with all of my heart; they are everything to me.

So, today, when my mama wasn't feeling very well, I couldn't help but wonder if I'm doing the right thing...what if this rather unpopular choice of mine keeps every chance of real love away and my mama never sees me as a bride or a mother? I went through this same thought process earlier in the summer with my daddy.

I begin to think I'm walking down this endless, dark tunnel with no light in sight. I'm panicked.

Then I hear my mama say she's proud of who I am, the choices I've made, and, once again, she gives me hope.

Apparently, I Have A Faux Husband. Terrific.

Wake up: I fell out of the bed. Haven't done that since I was seven. In all fairness, my foot was wrapped up in the sheet. Thinking it would just slip free, I crawled out, kind-of flew forward, and...THUD.

This little mishap set up the rest of my day. Sadly, I was blissfully unaware of that fact.

Lunch: Picked up a few things for mom at the grocery store. Traditional family Thanksgiving grocery trip forthcoming. Said grocery excursion is almost always reminiscent of the Griswolds.

Delivering items to mom was eventful. Walked in and mom started talking about an episode of House Hunters from last night.

Me: "Ooh, what was the situation?"

Yes, I do like House Hunters...and Property Virgins--don't say it.

Mom: "She's a grandmother looking to move closer to her daughters and granddaughters. After the grandmother picked her house, she talked about how lucky she is to be near her daughters and have so many grandchildren...with another one of the way--one of her daughters was noticeably pregnant."

Mom, under her breath: "Ugh, witch."

Oh. My. God. There goes the flashing single sign over my head, sirens blazing.

Me: "Um, what did you say?"

Mom: "Huh? Oh, nuthin' darlin'. Nuthin."

Me: "Mom, you called her a witch. It's because she has grandchildren, isn't it?"

Mom, looking like she just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar: "Well, yes, in part. I just know I would rock as a grandma."

Me: "You would. I would love nothing more than to see you as a hip granny."

Mom: "I would love nothing more than to see you as a beautiful, sweet, adoring, wonderful mama."

Okay, trying to keep from crying. Won't cry. Won't cry. My clock isn't ticking yet, so the tears are solely for the fact that my mama thinks I would make a wonderful mommy. 

Mom: "The most important thing is for you to be happy. Never jump into anything just because...it has to be right in your heart and your instincts have to be there. You are always perfect to me, married, unmarried, whatever."

Me: "I love you, mom."

Mom: "I love you too, my baby girl."

I love these moments.

Mom: "Um, there is one little thing..."

Oh, Lord.

Me: "Mom, what have you done?"

Mom: "I meant everything I said but...there is a possibility that...I...may have...inadvertently...well...I have a son-in-law."

Me: "What?"

Mom: "You're married."

Me: "Huh?"

Mom: "Well, I was nervous. There were these big guys, so I told them my son-in-law was here and would help me."

Me: "When have you ever been nervous? And what big guys?"

Mom: "That's neither here nor there, my lovely, just know I accidentally said you have a husband."

Me: "I have a faux husband. That's just terrific. That's the only thing you could think of?"

Mom: "I can't control what my mouth does...it was the first thing that flew out."

Me: "Yeah, doesn't that worry you just a little? The first thing that enters your mind is to craft a faux husband for your daughter? I mean, why couldn't you have said Dad was with you?"

Mom: "Huh. That would have made more sense."

Great. My mom's subconscious is now acting out. 

Night: Watching the Longhorns (basketball) and NASCAR Camping World Truck race on SPEED...with my faux husband. Well, hell, why not? He's as invisible as air, right?

Reckon I'll watch Ghost Adventures later, mourn the end of NASCAR's season this weekend--hope Dale can end the season on a high note. I've got my Dallas Mavericks starting soon. Mainly, I will sit here this Friday night--date night--alone with my chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

Oh, wait, I have my faux-friggin' husband to keep me company. Yippee.

Some Christmas Commercials Should Be Banned

Watching football, flicking to basketball. Wouldn't think I'd have to endure too many icky-love Christmas commercials. Wrong. Suppose they are trying to send "messages" to the husbands and boyfriends out there--here, buy our jewelry, see how happy she will be. Blucky!

Thing is, I can take it or leave it...jewelry as a present, I mean.  I'd be happy with anything. So, it's not that these women are getting sparkly things that's getting under my skin...it's just the whole setting...the mood...the feeling...that love stuff. 

And it's not just Christmas when single people are inundated with this tripe. New Year's Eve, Valentines, the entire month of June, and even Fourth of July tend to fall into the puke pot. 

The one they just shoved up my buttocks involves the adorable skating couple; she's solid on skates, he isn't. She gracefully glides to him when he nearly falls; he whips out the ring; she, in turn, gets all wobbly in the knees. Sweet, huh?

Let's see, then there's the global "Will you marry me?" ad where the question/answer is posed in different languages. Darling, huh?

What else? Ah, the one where mommy is rocking newborn baby by the tree and daddy wakes up to give her a special sparkly gift. Precious, huh?

I love the holidays, I do. It's my favorite time of the year. Must say, I could do without the singletonville-hating commercials. We singles are well aware of what happens between couples this time of year; we do not need reminding, trust me.

And it's not like those ads represent reality. From personal experience watching my friends, I've observed the following:

1. Boyfriend buys girlfriend jewelry that isn't even her style. This after one year of being together. He still didn't know her taste. He bought it because he thought he had to. No romance.

2. Husband gives wife a pair of earrings. Said earrings featured feathers. Yes, feathers...that tickled her face.  I do believe they were the most hideous things I have ever seen. Turns out, they were the first thing he could find on Christmas Eve...he completely forgot to get her anything for Christmas.

3. Good guy buys gorgeous diamond bracelet for soulless girlfriend. Soulless girlfriend asked if he got her the matching earrings and necklace, then pouted when he didn't. What did he do? Found a way to buy the matching items after Christmas to make her happy. What did she do? Nothing. Took them, thanked him, then never wore them. Oh, and she wanted rubies for Valentine's Day.

So, either he forgets, doesn't care, or he genuinely cares for a soulless witch.

I'm so totally screwed.

Blog Blonde Returns--UPDATE--FIGURED IT OUT! YAY!

Okay, I can't post comments on some blogs.

I type a comment, press the button, it sends, but doesn't appear on the blog. I don't get it.

So far, the blogs I cannot post on are as follows: Jules, Martha, J. Day, and Average Girl. Any blog asking for me to chose between Google Account, Wordpress, etc., just won't let me post.

HELP!!!

I can't even reply to comments on my own dang blog!!! What the heck??? I've tried selecting the "Google Account," because I assume that's what it is, but when I try to post, it just disappears.

I tried the Name/URL on Jewels' Vampire post, but still nothing!

HELP!!!!


UPDATE: Okay, I've read about quite a few people having this problem. Here's what you need to check--make sure that under tools, you have "Accept 3rd party cookies" checked.

Phew. Now I can post comments!!! Hurray!!!!

Why Wednesday: Why Waste All This Time Being A Virgin?

Her: Why are you wasting all this time?

Me: Are you seriously asking me this?

Her: You're not going to be young forever...why waste all this time when you could be having sex with guys, find out what you like, see what different guys have, you know? It's crazy. There's nothing wrong with screwing around until you find the one. You should just go pick a guy up, get crazy, and start having fun.

Me: Well, thanks for your opinion.  The one I didn't ask for...why do people always do that?

Truth: With every bad date--every nightmare date--every birthday, and every empty New Year's Eve and/or Valentine's Day, the idea of wasted time more than crosses my mind. Sometimes, I cry. There, I said it. I cry. Don't we all from time to time? Anyone who answers 'no' to that question is a flat out liar, by the way.

Thing is, I don't want to have sex just to get it over with and start "having fun." If I starting having sex to avoid wasting time, wouldn't that be another way of wasting time? Laying down with someone just to have sex is, in effect, wasting time--there would be a lack of feeling, love, something deeper.

Conclusion: Maybe I am wasting time, but I'd be wasting time either way--having random sex or not having sex at all. What I want is love. Period.

Things Guys Say: The "I'll show you I care" line.

My friends have inspired me to start a new blog topic entitled, Things Guys Say. I don't know why it is so abundantly clear to me when my friends' boyfriends are feeding them empty words. They never see it...or they turn a blind eye.

Here, I'm going to reveal as many lying lines men like to feed us in the hope of helping women--young, old, inexperienced, experienced-- recognize when they're getting played. At the very least, maybe these posts will help fine tune the built-in b.s. detector all women have. 

The Beginning: George treats Lola like gold for the first two months of their relationship. Lola sleeps with George for the first time on their 3rd month anniversary.

The Middle: George starts treating her poorly thereafter, yet still expecting sex every time they are together. Lola confronts George about his behavior, they fight, and she walks out.

The Hooking Line: "I hate what just happened. I need to see you, please. Come back."

First Red Flag: He needs to see her, hates that they fought, but won't GO to her; he makes her COME to him. Accountability, guys, it's called accountability.

Lola gets back in her car, goes to George, and, upon arriving, finds herself in his warm embrace as he gently strokes her hair.

The Sinker Line: "I hate what happened. I've just been stressed. I haven't been sleeping well. I do care about you...and I'm going to show you how much I care all night."

Lola stayed the night with George.

Second Red Flag: George never actually apologized. Notice how often he said "I." I've been stressed...I haven't been sleeping well...I'm going to show you how much I care. He never once made this about her. Beware of the "I" guy.

Bottom Line: He wanted to get laid.  He said as much as necessary to keep the sex around...and it worked. Sorry, but it's true. Guys will fake caring for you, loving you, etc. to get what they want. Some guys can get pretty creative. Look at George: I can't tell you how much Lola valued his "I'll show you I care" statement. It was just a clever way to confuse her heart, while getting what he wanted.

The End: Within a week, George dumped Lola, leaving her confused and brokenhearted.

Keep your ears, eyes, and instincts open...you'll see more than you expected.

Funny Thing About The Fickle Fiddle

Been thinking (dangerous pastime, I know), but you know what's ironic about Wasn't's (my English teacher would hurl if he saw that word) current situation?

He's her fallback...he's playing second fiddle to her ex-husband AND ex-boyfriend.

I can't claim utter brilliance in coming to this conclusion on my own accord...my mom led me down the path when she said in her thick southern drawl, "Honey, he's never gonna be first with her. He'll be miserable. The fact that he's once again callin' you is proof of that. He's her fallback."

My mom is always right, I swear. Wasn't goes out of town, and his gf welcomes her ex-boyfriend into her home with open arms, while allegedly treating Wasn't like dirt.

So, if by some unconscious (or possibly conscious, the devious wad) desire Wasn't holds me as his fallback, isn't it fitting that he, in essence, is the real fallback? See, I can't be his fallback when I've never chosen that role...perhaps I was unwittingly in that role a few years ago, when I legitimately believed something may evolve--given his empty words and invites--but I put an end to the back-and-forth.

He's laboring under a delusion with regard to me AND with his current gf. Ironic.

Wanna hear something interesting? His gf told him she's not sure she can fully trust him yet. Well, well, well.

What's that old saying...you reap what you sew? Yeah, that.

COWBOYS BEAT GIANTS, GET SECOND WIN! 2-7! Whoo! Hoo!

Yes, I'm elated with 2-7. Why? Because today, we looked like a football team. Jason Garrett looked like a head coach. We improved. Dez Bryant is the real deal. Kitna shocked me. AND we beat a damn good football team in the New York Giants ON THEIR HOME TURF. Hey, we're just returning the favor, Giants' fans.

I loved seeing a young, enthusiastic head coach walking on the sidelines. What's more, I have no doubt Jason Garrett loves the Dallas Cowboys--he WANTS more than anything for them to succeed.

One big way to win points with fans? Consult Jimmy Johnson. That's exactly what Jason did. Smart move.

Our offense moved the ball beautifully on the mighty Giants' D, while our own defense looked fiercer than I've seen them all season.

Winning a division game against one of our biggest rivals...I've just got one thing to say--HOW 'BOUT THEM COWBOYS!

Bring it back, 'Boys, bring it back.

Stop Shoving, 'Cause I'm Not Eating

Is it just me, or does there seem to be a climate of rewarding or celebrating bad behavior these days? Almost daily, I turn on the news, a sporting event, the computer...you name it...and I hear/read nothing but justifications for someone's bad behavior or questionable character.

It's like "they" are trying to sell America on a new standard: It's okay to be a snarky, cruel, money-grubbing, immoral, alcohol-happy, lying, stealing, cheating turd because those things bring in ratings and sell books, t.v. shows, sneakers, etc.

This does not a role model make.

For me, I haven't bought said books or sneakers, although I may have been guilty of watching the shows in the past.  I don't watch them anymore because it became glaringly clear what, as a society, we seem to be becoming...what we seem to so easily accept as okay, while downing those who don't fit this new mold.  

I honestly don't think the vast majority of us are buying the bull. I tend to think we still value what's intrinsically good and right, honest and true. Can't convince me otherwise.

I'm not trying to sound like some stick-in-the-mud--I just think things have gone a little too far in a very bad direction.

Just sayin'.

Christmas Music Hates Me (Yesterday's Merry Fun)

Last Night: Boring day. Still, much to tell in another post, thanks to some rather opinionated friends and family. Spent night enjoying Christmas music on the radio until...I-wish-I-had-someone-at-Christmas tune came on. Fine. Okay. Breathe. Next song is sure to be Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer or Frosty The Snowman.  Hmm.  Don't recognize new song.  Oh My Holy Santa.  You're-my-Christmas-miracle-and-I-love-you-forever song. Hateful.

Immediately shut off cruel radio and turned on Alanis Morisette. This worked until I remembered she is now happily married and expecting her first baby. Singletonville's greatest angry resident is no more...she has crossed to the other side, where grass grows green instead of brown...or at least where there are green patches.

Bit of news coming from Wasn't (last week's conversation): He has a girlfriend. Things have gotten tough, and he calls me. For the first time, we really TALKED. He opened up. I finally got to be the friend I wanted to be with him--giving advice, helping, etc.  STILL, things were said by him...things that tend to muddy the friendship waters.

Bloody hints.

He has a girlfriend and I'm not a home wrecker, never have been, never will be. Sticking to the surface with Wasn't--friend only.

Today, early evening: My brain hurts from thinking. Next post will be revealing. Right now, am tired with headache and in desperate need of a quick nap, Advil, and ice bag.

Sigh, I see they continue to play lovey Christmas songs I've never heard until now. Friendly. Shut off music entirely. No music, no thoughts...apart from BFF's statement made yesterday: "Wasn't wants to be with you. If you were there, his current girlfriend would be out the window. He just needed a warm body." 

Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better.

True Blood Tuesday: Harry Potter Comes To True Blood???

Sort-of.

Petunia Dursley, Harry Potter's awful aunt, is coming to True Blood! Muggle-no-more, Fiona Shaw, who has portrayed Aunt Petunia throughout the Harry Potter series, will play Marnie, a homely palm reader and medium who succumbs to the spirit of a powerful witch.

Looks like Aunt Petunia will finally get to be a witch and wave a wand...True Blood-style.

The Cowboys Sink To An All Time Low...Coach Fired

I truly feel sorry for anyone who watched last night's "game" between the Dallas Cowboys and the Green Bay Packers. I hesitate to even call it a game, since use of the word game usually implies participation by two or more parties in a mental and/or physical contest. Green Bay played; Dallas did not.

Dallas looked lethargic, lacked passion, and had absolutely no sense of cohesion. It. Was. A. Disgrace.

Final Score? 45-7, Green Bay.  Dallas is now 1-7, our worst start since 1989--you know, the year we had a new head coach, a new QB, a young team...a team that was building, growing, and eventually went on to win 3 Super Bowls in the 1990s.

This is by far the worst I have EVER seen my team. Granted, we were 1-15 in 1989, but we were GROWING...and, boy, did we grow. We had some pretty bad years after the Troy Aikman era, but we were REBUILDING.  In 2010, we HAVE the team and the talent--there is NO excuse for this complete and utter collapse of America's Team. 

Less than an hour ago, Jerry Jones reportedly fired head coach, Wade Phillips. Offensive coordinator, Jason Garrett, has been named the interim head coach. Good move. Not that Jason will ignite any changes, but at least it is a step forward...changes are forthcoming.

Another change I would like to see? Remove Kitna, play Stephen McGee. What do you have to lose? Nothing, I assure you. Clearly the Cowboys have some major holes to fill--this is the season they can experiment with...this is the time you see what you have in your cupboards, before the offseason, before the draft.  Play the kid, see what he's got...see if you can develop him. Is he the future QB of the Dallas Cowboys? You'll never know until you give the kid a chance. 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, we NEED a Jimmy Johnson-type coach. THAT is the formula that works. PERIOD. My vote? Bill Cowher.

I WANT THIS BACK (as tears sting my eyes...yes, I'm a true fan and I don't apologize for it):

Makeup Magic Monday: ALTERNA Caviar Anti-Aging Moisture Shampoo

I've only tried a sample of this stuff, but I am sold. Though I will NOT replace my old reliable Pantene shampoo for everyday, ALTERNA Caviar Anti-Aging Moisture Shampoo is a fantastic treatment once or twice or week.

After ONE sample-size use, my hair was even softer, silkier, and shinier than it is with Pantene. Truly amazing. I'm convinced it enhances the effects of my everyday shampoo.

Why not use everyday? Well, for me, it may make my hair feel too heavy. I suppose it depends on your personal preference. I was amazed when I used my Pantene the next day and STILL had the effects of the caviar treatment...in fact, the effects have lasted. Another benefit to not using it everyday: it will last FOREVER. You don't need much of this to begin with.

Available at Sephora, $30 for a bottle; $30 for a travel size kit, which includes shampoo, conditioner, hairspray, and overnight care.

Stereotype #10: Virgins Make Bad Girlfriends

This is one of my absolute favorite stereotypes. (Kindly note the sarcasm)

There are two basic tiers to this theory:

Tier One: Immaturity

This perplexing little gem of a stereotype-tier originates from "man's belief" (sources remain unnamed...Kyle The Prick) that virgins have less relationship experience to draw from since they don't "give it up."  Therefore, virgins are increasingly unable to maturely handle common relationship issues/roadblocks. Hence, we are apparently decidedly less mature than girls who have had numerous...how shall I put this...bone.

**It should be duly noted that Kyle's ex-girlfriend handled their break-up like a truly mature, experienced woman...wonder if he's gotten around to repainting his car.

Fact: Because many virgins intend to remain pure, for want of a better word, until they find love and/or marriage, it is likely fewer men are willing to give it a go with us. This, admittedly, results in less relationship experience. Does that mean we are ill-equipped to handle adversity in a relationship? Absolutely not.

Let me tell you, contrary to semi-popular opinion, it takes an enormous amount of strength, energy, self-preservation, and just plain thick skin to walk down the virgin road. That, my dear naysayers, is called maturity...and it starts pretty early, especially considering how young  people are having sex these days.

You don't walk the virgin road and wear a badge of giggling, idiotic, school-girl. You learn very early to hold your head high, no matter how many times someone tries to punch you in the stomach...and they will...and it hurts. You grow from the hurt...you gain strength...you mature.

By my senior year in high school, girls were coming to me for all sorts of advice, despite the fact I hadn't "been there, done that." I saw things very clearly with regard to other people's relationships.  Perhaps it's a consolation prize of having to surviving all that comes with the "virgin" label.

Tier Two: No Sex (Duh!)

Well, who would guess this one, right? Eventually, according to some, men will grow tired of said virgin because...drum roll, please...they aren't getting laid! Just kick me in the gut and color me happy! I could never have guessed this one is a zillion years! Ugh.  (Again, note sarcasm)

Fact: Some men will cut and run after so much time. Others will quite literally leave rubber (aw, heck, pun intended...why not?) to get away from a virgin the second he finds out the truth. These men are NOT worth your time or tears.

Then there are those who remain by your side....for YOU...for who YOU are as a person. If a man can see a future with YOU, it shouldn't matter if you are a virgin or if you have slept with over half the county. It's about the heart...it's about love. 

Bottom line: There is a lot more to a relationship than sex. Oh, it's important, don't get me wrong, but it's not everything. Virgins just start from the bottom and work up--we delicately, gently, caress each relationship block, softly putting them together to build the rock hard foundation we need before we become one with  our bodies. Just consider it a nice long period of constant, non-stop foreplay for the soul, mind, and body. 

Stereotype #10: SLAYED.

They Say Don't Shoot The Messenger...

...but maybe a good kick off their high horse would be in order.

Wake-up: Did yesterday happen? Was there a flurry of communication with The One That Wasn't? Checking phone. Yes, apparently so. Moreover, did he just tell me the following: He's. Not. Married. Yes, he did.

He's.  Not.  Married.

How can someone get something so wrong? Must wash face and stop thinking. Well, the washing of the face part will happen.

Lunch: Voted! I'm such a good American! Ooh, text message!

BFF: Voted at 7 a.m., first thing.

Dang. BFF is a much better American.

Had a salad & iced tea...NO soda (impressive development). 

Afternoon: Had to run many errands on very little sleep. The Christmas present I wanted for my mom forced the lady to run all over the store looking for it (felt terrible about that). She did finally find it in the back.

I effectively made a royal a** out of myself in front of an attractive single man when I knocked a slew of Harry Potter books off their display table. So, not only am I a klutz, but I'm a dorky klutz scoping the Harry Potter table (you know, the one with the light-up wands, flip pad, and, God help me, sticker books). Sigh. My idiocy never fails me.

Off to buy mom some things she requested. Spent precious minutes on phone trying to decipher exactly what she wanted--colors, styles, design. This is a sampling of what I got:

Mom: "I would love the top in navy..."

Me: "Okay, I see navy." I grab it.

Mom: "...but not if it has too much design or sparkly stuff on it."

Me: Putting navy top back. "I see green."

Mom: "Oooh, I love green..."

Me: I grab the green one.

Mom: "...but not too dark or lime-y green."

Me: I put lime-y green top back. "Here's another green...it's a muted sage color," I quickly added.

Mom: "That sounds perfect."

Me: Finally. Grab muted green top. "How about red?"

Mom: "I love red!!"

Me: "There's a smallish bird on it."

Mom: "What kind of bird?"

You get the picture. My mom had to laugh later at how difficult it must have been for me to pick and choose tops to her specifications. Turns out, she loved the navy top that I insisted upon (the three tiny little snowflakes were not overbearing at all).

Night: Watching election coverage and working. Gripping life.

Phone ringing...

Here we go...

Late Night: Oh. Holy. Crap. Major developments! Need time to process this gigantic balloon of information! Safe to say, The One That Wasn't and I are better friends now than ever before...or so it seems.

Must resist need for soda.