Thursday, December 20, 2007

When I See You Cry, It Makes Me Smile

I love trashy reality shows more than anyone else I know. I have watched all of the Flavor of Love and New York shows. Hell, I even watched The Pickup Artist. And I wanted to punch "Mystery" in the face the whole time. But not as much as one of the contestants, Pradeep. He was such a prick!

But by far trashier than all of those combined, was Rock of Love, which featured the one and (thank God) only Bret Michaels on his quest for love. At the end of the show he ended up choosing Pink Haired Girl, whom I favored to win:
But alas, their love did not last. Shocking, I know. If you can't find love while your every moment is being televised, when can you find love?

So what is poor, broken-hearted Bret up to? Well, his quest for love continues! Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you............

Rock of Love 2!

Let's take a closer look, shall we? We begin on the left:

Is that the worst wig you have ever seen? Also, how high does she look? Which, while fitting for the show, maybe this was not the most appropriate time. Another odd thing is how she seems to be not with the rest of the group at all. Perhaps she'll be the next Lacey, all social-outcasty and pyscho. But not if she's this high all the time. OOH! Maybe she'll be the one who gets kicked off right away for being drugged out and then blows the bouncer to get back in and sleeps on the couch before passing out in the middle of her phone sex audition! I hope so.

Next, we have this charmer, who was apparently dragged to this photoshoot by her hair when she was just trying to run out to pick up some groceries after slipping into her Uggs:

I'm not sure what to make of the girl in the back row. Is she naked? I can't tell. And my goodness does the girl in the pink dress look like a cardboard cutout! That is uncanny...

Then we have one of the few ladies who went for the "sultry" look and ended up with the "slutty" look:

I mean, not only is that black dress so tight that it looks like she can't breath, but when you look at her feet, it seriously looks like she's about to topple over!
Is it just me or does the curly haired blonde in the back there look a little bit like Victoria from the last cycle of Top Model? I hope it is and she gets all prickly with Bret.
Hey, Miss Penthouse '98, pull up your shirt, I can totally see your bra!

As for the poor girl in the pink shirt and leggings, honey, you need to stand up straight, you look pregnant like that.

Which brings us to the three girls behind Bret, who will clearly be BFF (!), since they all had the brilliant idea to sexily put their sexy fingers in or near their sexy mouths:

Speaking of which, what the hell is Bret doing with his fingers? Are those...double bullhorns/rock-on signs? Do you think he is having a bull fight/rock-off right in front of him?

Ok, moving right along. We now come to the One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other Ones section:

While the genius producers tried their hardest to obscure her in the back row, I can still see the short, dark-haired, possibly Indian woman's head. Am I crazy, or does she look really old to be on this show? We don't really need to talk about the skunk-haired girl with the crazy pose, but I would like to address the strangely normal looking girl's head. Who is she? Why is she on this show? Did she get lost and blunder onto the set?
The black girl with the mowhawk looks so incredible familiar to me. I swear that she was on the first season:
Now here is the other sultry/slutty sister:
I have to give her props in that she somehow looks even more like a hooker than her counterpart black-dress-wearer.
Yet another girl about whose well-being I am concerned is the blonde girl in the pink dress behind the hooker. Is she asleep? What happened to her head? Was her hair caught in some sort of bleaching mechanism in a tragic accident that she is facing bravely?

Now for the finale. It is readily apparent why these two lovely ladies were allowed to be in the front row. They are by far the best dressed of the bunch:

There are no words.

Friday, December 7, 2007

Number Four Is A Copycat

One of the most obnoxious things about Number Four was that she was a total copycat. I've already talked about how she would follow us into the kitchen and how she didn't take medicine because her friend was a Scientologist. But there was more. Much more.

In general, her slovenly ways were enough to creep us out, but this was amplified by the fact that she stared at us. All the time. If we were doing anything in the same room she was in, she would watch us like we were a tv show. Often this led to her doing the same thing we were doing. If we were reading, she picked up a book. If we got a snack, she got a snack. If we started watching tv and knitting, she grabbed her knitting too.

Oh, and that was a whole nuther kind of weirdness, her knitting. I learned how to knit from my previous roommate Nicole. I never got more advanced than a simple knit stitch, but I can make a pretty scarf for you. So I taught Pamala, Orly, and Number Four how to knit too, with varying degrees of success. Pamala gave up quickly because she can't sit still long enough to knit more than two rows at a time. Orly enjoyed it, but only if she could use oversized needles.

Number Four was a different story altogether. She learned quite well alright. She also purchased the most hideous color combinations of yarn you could imagine, and some you can't. There was a type of yarn she liked in particular that had gradations from one color to another. Most of those were very pretty, shades of blue and green, or pink. Number Four chose one that was brown and orange to make a scarf out of. And then she decided to use very small needles, which, whatever, if she wanted to spend six months making a scarf, that was her business. The problem was this. When she would knit, she would wrap the yarn really really tight around the needles and when she was rubbing the needles against each other to pick up a stitch, the needles would make this creaking noise, almost like a door hinge. It just added a new level of creepiness that she was that tense when using pointy objects.

Then there was the blanket. Oh God, the blanket. I need to take a minute.

The yarn she chose for the blanket was another of the color gradation type, but this time she pick one that changed from purple (again with the purple) to green, with shades of aqua thrown in for added hideousness. She got some sort of knitting needle wire circle contraption that looked like a torture device to make this blanket with, and of course the needles were small. So in addition to the creaking needles, there was this growing nebulous blob of purple shot through with green and aqua that lived under our coffee table. Just lurking under there, it's hideous colors pulsating, waiting to smother us.

Given her affection for horribly clashing colors, you would imagine that Number Four's side of the room would have been a sight to behold, but you would be mistaken. It was incredibly boring and unimaginative in a nearly monochromatic faded blue color scheme. Her sheets were blue. Her comforter was blue plaid. Her "decorations" consisted of a weird blue novelty lamp (think lava lamp but with blue glitter instead of lava) and a poster of Van Gogh's Starry Night. Which, I might add, she only purchased after she saw that Pamala had that exact same poster hanging in the living room. I'm still confused about that. I mean, we already had one poster of Starry Night, and yet she went out and purchased another one. On purpose. She did things like that with frightening regularity.

For example, I had a beta fish when I lived with them that just would not die. This fish was seriously seven years old. And it never ate it's food. I don't know how this thing lived. Anyway, somehow we learned that Number Four had never had a pet before. It always freaks me out when I learn that someone never had a pet as a child. I just don't understand it. So she was asking me all these questions about my fish, and I was telling her how the thing just wouldn't die, which made it really easy to take care of. Wouldn't you know that a few days later, Number Four bought herself a beta fish. She spent about a week trying to come up with a name for this new pet, finally settling on calling it Fish. Yeah.

The most bizarre copycat moment of all though was when she copied a behavior of Orly's. See, Pamala and Orly were like seven year olds sometimes. Orly is disgusted by feet, so Pamala would chase her around barefoot, trying to stick her feet on Orly. Pamala is something of a prude, so Orly would break into the bathroom when Pamala was showering, or wander around topless. One day Number Four was talking to Orly about how it would be really funny if she walked up to Pamala "and just went like this!" and then yanked her top up, flashing Orly from about two feet away. I saw it coming and was able to look away, but Orly had no chance. She got full on flashed by the one person she was grossed out by the most in the world. Did I mention that Number Four was wearing her Circus Pants? When I knew it was safe, I looked back over to check on Orly and she just looked stunned. You could have pushed her over with a feather.

A Little Light Reading

I am not the most technically savvy person around. I can get around in most programs pretty quickly, but when it comes to the actual function of a computer, I am at a loss. I know what things do most of the time; I rarely know why.

This is leading somewhere, I promise.

The office I work in has some sort of webpage-blocking thing that, frankly, baffles me. Some of the things it blocks make total sense, like, say, facebook or game websites. Other make no sense whatsoever, like the fact that ebay is not blocked at all.

Then there is craigslist. Craigslist is only partially blocked. I can look at anything for sale, all the housing listings, and the forums. Where it gets interesting is the personals section. The parts that are blocked make no sense when compared with what is not blocked (Please note that I discovered this trying to read Missed connections, because they are often hilarious).

Things that are blocked:
Casual encounters
Missed connections
Rants and raves

Things that are not blocked:
Women seeking women
Men seeking men

So apparently, my work is totally ok with employees using work computers to hook up with someone, provided that it is a homosexual relationship. The proliferation of extremely graphic pictures that are posted in those sections clearly has no bearing on the blocking program. Neither does the high use of "strong language" in the post titles themselves.

It is a strange, strange internet.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Further Adventures In Strangeland

I have already documented how the collection of eating places nearest my work is a vortex of bizarre behavior. First there was Bra Girl. Then there was the Cup of Ice. You will hopefully be pleased to learn that I have two new stories for your enjoyment.
First is the tale of the Pillow Salesmen. Yes, pillows. Now, keep in mind that this area consist of a bunch of restaurants next to each other and a large outside eating area, sort of like a plaza. In fact, exactly like a plaza. So as I was sitting in the warm sun enjoying my sushi and conversing with my friend, I looked up and saw something that completely arrested my attention. I stopped speaking mid-sentence. There were two men with their arms full of those memory foam pillows, all boxed up. They went to a few tables, selling the pillows. Then they went inside the sushi restaurant and sold more. I was apparently the only person who found this strange, since people were buying them like they had never seen pillows before.
The second story is better. This just happened today, and I need to take a moment to digress because I just discovered that the Pepsi logo on my cup is surrounded by a double rainbow of text smileys of various sorts, like this: :-( :-< -O :) :-E ;-) etc. Interesting design choice. Oh, the background is all different sizes of smileys, all in varying shades of blue and overlapping. It's an emoticon collage. There is a website. Curiouser and curiouser...
Ok, back to the story. I'd been eating for a little while when a girl sat down at the table next to my friend and I. Normally not a notable occurrence, except that this girl looked a bit like Natalie Portman and had a lot of facial piercings and a boy haircut. She pulled out a tupperware thing of some food and started eating. Then a guy at another table got up to walk his plate to the trash. The following conversation ensued, which I need to just write down verbatim:

Girl: Um, excuse me? [Guy stops] I know this will sound really strange, but, um, were you going to throw those away? [gestures at pieces of a sushi roll on his plate]
Guy: Well, yeah...[confused]
Girl: Do you think that I could, um, have them?
Guy: Yeah, if you want. I already ate the cucumber out of the middle though. [apologetic]
Girl: Oh, that's alright. [takes the sushi pieces off of his plate] Thanks!
Guy: No problem! [leaves]

The reason I know exactly what they said is because I was full on staring at them while this was happening. Because, seriously? Who does that? And I'm sure I had some sort of 'the fuck?' look on my face, since I have no control over my facial expressions. You can absolutely tell what I am thinking by looking at me. My friends are constantly stopping mid sentence and swinging their heads over to my line of sight to see what I'm making a face about. It's kind of a problem, really. But yeah. Under what circumstances is that acceptable behavior? And the guy responded to her like she had asked him a perfectly sensible question and was in no way freaked out.

I love this town.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

Silence Is Golden

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I managed to convince my mom to let my (then) boyfriend, Joe, move into our house, since he was currently living in a tent in a trailer park. What can I say in my defense? I really did think that getting him out of that environment and into a better one would help him. And I loved him. And I was an idiot. Raise your hand if you’ve never done something incredibly stupid because you were in love. Yeah, that’s what I thought.
As you probably guessed, things did not go the way that I had envisioned they would. Joe and I did not have candle lit dinners in front of a fire; we argued about him not having a job, or him staying out until two in the morning. At some point I stopped arguing. After you tell someone the same thing forty times, and they still don’t listen, what is there to say?
Then I started a new semester at my community college. In one of my classes, I saw a guy who had been in a previous class of mine. We did the your-face-is-the-only-familiar-one-in-the-room-so-now-we-are-friends-thing, and I started getting to know Chris. He was the polar opposite of Joe. We bonded one day over Ralph, and I realized that I actually like this Chris fellow.
While I was making friends with Chris, things with Joe were becoming worse. He had become friends with my cousin’s douchey then-boyfriend (who would later attack her car with a baseball bat) and the two of them were acting increasingly shady. One evening, the four of us went out to a movie. After the movie, the two guys were going off and mumbling together. Alicia and I went to the bathroom for a conference. We decided that if they were going to stay out until two tonight, that was it. Last straw. We were done. We came back out and Alicia’s boyfriend asked if I could drop her off at home, since he and Joe had to “do a thing”. I agreed, and the whole way home we discussed how over this shit we were. I dropped her off and wished her luck, then drove myself home.
Now, those who know me well are quite aware of just how damn stubborn I am. In the previous weeks, I have become increasingly irritated with Joe. I had also met a guy who seemed to not only enjoy my company, but respect my mind. This did wonders for how I felt about myself and showed me how there really were guys who weren’t jackasses.
When I got home, I packed up all of Joe’s things in boxes and put them on the front porch. I remember my mom coming into my room, seeing what I was doing, and asking if I was ok. I told her “Yes, I finally am.” She just smiled and left me to it. I wrote a long letter explaining to Joe exactly what I was doing and why, and left that on top of his things.
When Joe finally did come home, it was light outside. After reading my letter, he tapped on my window. After I didn’t respond he went around to Brian’s window and woke him up. Brian told him that I would come out and talk to him when I was good and ready, godammit. I learned this later when I woke up. When I saw that Joe was still outside, I went out and handed him the phone, then went back inside. He tried to talk to me, but I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. He eventually called his parents to ask them to come and get him.
It was the best breakup I ever had.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

I'm a Nerd. No, Seriously.

Pure Nerd
82 % Nerd, 43% Geek, 26% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.

The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.

Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST
Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on Ok Cupid

This Monkey AIN'T Gone to Heaven

My upstairs neighbors are fucking idiots.
They have a wooden deck that is above our enclosed patio area. Two nights ago they decided that they needed to wash off their deck rightnow. Having apparently never heard of such inventions as a broom and mop, they decided to use a hose. To wash off their two feet by five feet deck. For half an hour. Which washed off our patio as well, so thanks for that. But man am I glad we don't have patio furniture or a barbecue out there yet.
I came home from work yesterday and I noticed that our doormat was wet:

As I was fumbling with my keys, water dripped on my head. I looked up and saw this:

The stucco is actually bubbling up. The porch light is full of water. The doorjamb is swollen, as is the door. We currently cannot use our own front door, we have to use the sliding glass door, which is all kinds of secure.
I called my landlord and told him what happened and sent him the pictures. He called management the next day and managed to garble the message so much that management called my roommate to ask her about our neighbors spraying our door with their hose. She explained what really happened, and they said they would talk to the upstairs people. Dalyne went upstairs a bit later to make sure everyone knew what was going on. After knocking three times and finally ringing the doorbell twice, the mom finally answered. We knew that they were home because we could hear them.

In the course of the conversation, Dalyne learned that the dad had actually hooked up the hose to their hot water heater to hose off the deck, and, "whoops, I guess he didn't turn it all the way off", but she thought that if we just let everything dry out, it would be fine. She didn't take up the offer to come and test out our porch light though.

Friday, November 2, 2007

Stupid Girl

I've been trying to think of how best to write about what happened in the next phase of my life, and so far I've come up with nothing. A large part of that is due to the fact that my memories from this portion of my life are cluttered, unclear, and full of gaps, the reasons for which will become evident.

After Jim broke our engagement, I can now say that I was legitimately depressed. And angry. I felt nearly every negative emotion you can think of, and I desperately wanted to be outside of my own head, away from the memories and the aching pain I felt.

I went from drinking occasionally on weekends to drinking every weekend and during the week. Given the amounts of alcohol I was consuming, it's really surprising that I remember as much as I do. My tolerance was so high that I once drank a 300 (or more) pound guy under the table, and then finished the handle we had been sharing. I regularly ditched classes, mostly first period. I didn't even really do anything while I was ditching, just hung out with whoever I had convinced to come with me. Usually it was Terra, but we would occasionally bring other friends with us. I'm not sure how to broach this, because I'm not really sure how it started, but here goes. Terra's mom was bipolar, and she was on a lot of different medications. I don't know at all how it started, but we would steal pills from her and take them. I usually didn't even know what I was taking. One time that I remember, I took a Klonopin at lunch. In the next class it hit me pretty hard. I was sitting at my desk when my head suddenly felt incredibly heavy. I collapsed forward onto the desk, hitting it with my forehead. A friend of mine in the class helped me sit back up and managed to prop me up at my desk so I wouldn't fall out. He asked me what I had taken, and then looked it up. Klonopin is a benzodiazepine, used to control seizures, anxiety, schizophrenia, and a slew of other things. My friend watched me the rest of the period, even walking me to my next class. I tell you this to demonstrate how other people cared much more about what happened to me than I did. I literally didn't care. I drank whatever was in my hand, took whatever pill was handed to me, and put on a mask and pretended I was fine. I laughed and joked and chatted, and no one was the wiser.

The summer after we graduated, Terra went to Ireland with her sister, and after she got back we had a weird falling out. I started spending more and more time with Joe. He was having problems or his own trying to deal with social environments that he had never encountered before, due to his home-schooled upbringing. He drank nearly as much as I did, smoke a lot of weed (which I never did, I hate the smell), and did a few other recreational drugs like acid. I didn't really ever pay attention to what he was doing though. I didn't really pay attention to much. At some point, Joe got himself kicked out of the house he was living in. He wasn't allowed to move back home, so, having no other options, he set up camp in a trailer park. That's right. A trailer park. He didn't even have a trailer, he was living in a tent.

After a while I started coming back to myself. I had been taking classes at a local community college, mostly because that was just what you did after you graduated. I wasn't taking random pills anymore since Terra and I weren't friends anymore. I was drinking less because I had to be at work and class more, which meant that I had to drive more. But I still managed to do something supremely stupid. I convinced my mom that it would be a good idea for Joe to move in with us.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Didn't You Love Me?

It was indeed years until I saw Joe again. When I did see him next, I was getting gas at a station that I typically did not go to, as it was on the opposite side of the town from my house. Think for a minute about how much time you spend at the gas station if you are only fueling up. I had already gone inside to get my change and was getting back into my car when I heard my name. I looked around and on the other side of the pump was Joe. He had literally just pulled up. In another ten seconds we would have missed each other completely. Every time I think about it, I wonder how many times I have missed someone by that narrow a margin. I was in a rush to somewhere else, probably work, so we exchanged numbers and I went off to wherever I had been going.

I don't remember who called who, but Joe and I did start talking again. It turned out that he lived quite close to my then best friend, Terra. An interesting thing to note is that both Terra and Joe lived on the same side of town that I did, and actually even farther away from that fateful gas station. One day Terra and I took a walk over to hang out with Joe and his friends. Joe had actually moved out of his parents' house, and into a tiny house one house down from his parents. We hung out, listened to music, drank, and had a general good time. Right away I noticed that, in addition to shaving off his hair, Joe had gotten the double earlobe pierced. We continued to hang out and kill the endless hours of our small-town youth. I was seventeen. It was during this time that I started smoking. Literally everyone around me smoked, including my mom. One day I just leaned over and took Joe's cigarette out of his hand and took a drag. It is nearly impossible to describe that sensation, your first drag from a cigarette. At first, all of the nerves in your throat react, almost like getting goosebumps in your throat. Then there is a tightness in your chest, almost as though your lungs are expanding. Your heart starts to pound as you exhale, choking a little from the acrid smoke. Then the nicotine hits your bloodstream, and your head suddenly feels light as a feather. Your scalp tingles. Your eyes widen as your entire body starts to feel like you are cushioned against the very air by some strange force, almost like being wrapped in silk. Is it any wonder that people spend years of their lives, thousands of dollars, and their own health trying to regain this sensation? The catch is that you can never experience that first drag again. It remains an elusive enticement, hovering on the edge of attainment.

During this time, Jim was in Monterrey. He and I talked on the phone about two to three times a week, and we were increasingly fighting when we talked. He wanted to talk about the things that he was doing and learning, I was more interested in using what little time we had to plan for our future together. He wanted me to take care of nearly everything. I wanted him to discuss things with me. We had a lot of those little nit-picky fights that are not about what we are saying they're about. We started talking less. Then one day I walked over to my usual place at lunch and Jim was there. I hadn't seen him in months, and the last time I had seen him was very brief and completely lacking any quality time together. Needless to say, I was ecstatic about his surprise visit. Until he took me aside to have one of the most devastating conversations of my life. He said that he felt the foundation of our relationship was lacking and that we needed to work on being best friends before we could go further in our relationship. What he meant was that he wanted to break off our engagement. I couldn't do anything beyond shake my head "no" while tears poured down my face. Then lunch ended and I had to go to class. He left with his ride back to Monterrey early the next morning and I never heard from him again. Much later I found out that the girl who gave him a ride down was pregnant. As far as I know they got married.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Gouge Away

I know that I said that story would be continued, and it will. The past few weeks my life has been attacking me. My boss gave me a list of tasks to prepare for our next audit, and I am still recovering from the last one. He literally told me to take as much overtime as I need to get these things done. Doesn't that sound fun?

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)

I had a dream about Joe last night. He looked the way he did when we were together the last time. In my dream, Mama, Dennis, Brian, Joe and I were all at some restaurant, celebrating something. I think it may have been my birthday. After some drama in the parking lot involving Brian and someone else's truck and a lot of blue paint, we all went inside to eat. Despite my best efforts, I ended up sitting next to Joe. Even in my dreams, he has that same magnetic pull on me. I know that I should stay as far away from him as I can, but I am still drawn to him like a moth to the flame. That's how it always was.

The first time I met Joe I was thirteen. He went to the same church that I did, and we both went to Youth Group on Tuesday nights. He must have been fourteen or fifteen when we first met. The first thing that you see when you look at Joe are his huge eyes. They are this blue-green color with flecks of gold that you can feel yourself falling into, like Alice down the rabbit hole. Absolutely mesmerizing. When I first met him, and for a few years after, he had longish hair, which frequently hid his eyes. Then he would turn and look right into my eyes and my breath would catch. The reason Joe grew his hair so long was because he had two complete earlobes on his left ear and he was embarrassed about it. I thought that it was cool and unique, and I continually suggested that he pierce them and show them off. This is important later. The second thing that you noticed about Joe was his height. Even then he was towering over nearly everyone.

Joe and I quickly became friends. There were a few other people in our Youth Group that we were close to, like Chris, Rachel and Rebekah, that changed over the years. But Joe and I were always the center. When we first met, I had a boyfriend (Ricky, who would soon move away to Virgina) and Joe was involved with a girl whose name I have forgotten. I disliked her intensely, that much I do remember, so I will call her Krystal. Joe was odd in quite a few ways, one of which was that he was home-schooled. His parents were very controlling and did not approve of their son having a girlfriend. So he and Krystal kept their involvement a secret, but they weren't very good at it and Joe was constantly getting into trouble with his parents. Through this time, I did my best to advise Joe without letting him know that I could not stand Krystal. They had a lot of intense fights and I eventually began to advise Joe that he should end their involvement. This sparked an argument between Joe and I, and we drifted apart for a while. During that time I dated a boy that I barely remember, and he and Krystal eventually ended things when he found out that she was calling someone else her boyfriend but still wanted Joe. After Krystal was out of his life, Joe and I became close again. We also became increasingly attracted to each other. I wanted everything to be open and honest, but Joe's parents still did not want him dating anyone, so he wanted to keep things secret. This didn't sit well with me, and I did my best to avoid becoming more involved with him, without much success. It's hard to explain exactly how I felt about Joe. It was like some part of my brain was completely attuned to him. Whenever he was anywhere near me, I knew exactly where he was. He was like a beacon, I could always sense his presence. So, even though I told myself over and over that we were just friends, that was far from true, and we both knew it.

One of the groups I was involved in with my church was the (aptly named) Drama Club. I convinced Joe to join it, since we badly needed a guy or two for some skits we wanted to perform. I'm not sure exactly why or how, but the Drama Club ended up going to Ensenada, Mexico to perform skits in parks around the city. The skits were bizarre, set to music and without any speaking. It was more like interpretive dance, really. Only not so much dancing as moving around. We spent a fair amount of time in the city center, eating tacos from stands and shopping for trinkets. There was a ring that I wanted, but I couldn't bargain the vendor down to the price I wanted, so I decided to pass. Later that day, Joe came up to me and handed me that ring. Things like that were what made it so hard for me to stay away from him. We would reach an agreement about the status of our relationship as friends only, and then he would do something incredibly sweet that would just shatter all of my defenses. He remains one of the few people who were ever able to break those defenses down. I was only able to finally leave him when he no longer had that effect on me. But whether that was due to the ways he changed or my heart becoming hardened against him, I may never know. Either way, it took years.

I started high school and met Amber, better known as Glytch. We became fast friends and I was invited to join her family on their yearly summer trip to some property they have in Mexico. It was the kind of place that is an hour from the nearest town and you absolutely cannot find unless you know where it is. I was looking forward to getting away from everyone at my church, especially Joe, who was again trying to have a secret relationship with me. It was an amazing place; miles of pristine beach that you could walk on forever without seeing so much as a footprint from another human being. It was the ideal place to ignore the world and sort out my thoughts without the influence of Joe's hypnotic eyes. It didn't hurt that the friend Amber's brother brought was very attractive. He and I flirted up a storm, much to the chagrin of Amber's parents, who have yet to forgive me my youthful transgressions. The third day of that trip took a strange turn. Late the night before, a large group had arrived and set up camp in the area. The next morning, Amber and I were walking down to the water to swim. I had taken out my contacts because I was paranoid of losing them in the water. As we walked along the path, two figures appeared ahead of us, walking towards us. I, being blind at that moment, was completely taken by surprise when I heard a familiar voice call my name. It was Kent, another guy from my church. The person walking next to him was Joe. It turns out that Joe had gone on a surf camp trip with a bunch of guys from church. They had been to two other spots previously that trip, neither of which had good surf. Someone in the group remembered going to the camp I was at a few years ago and somehow was able to find it again. So in all the miles of beach camps along the coast of Baja, Joe ended up in the same exact place I was.

Once I saw him, I threw a fit. I yelled at him that I had come down here to get away from him specifically. I told him to stay away from me while he was there. Amber and I went down to the ocean and I stormed about the unfairness of it all for a while. I decided that I was going to show Joe that we were just friends by ignoring him and becoming more involved with Kevin, Amber's brother's friend. I didn't realize it at the time, but what I was really doing was trying to make Joe jealous. It worked, and Joe talked to me about how he felt about me and that he truly wanted to be with me and that I had been right all along about not keeping our relationship a secret. I had thought that was what I wanted, but as he spoke, I found myself becoming angry. I asked him to stop telling me everything I wanted to hear, that I knew when we got back it would just be the same fears and restrictions again. He swore that it wouldn't. I told him I would think about it. Later that day Kevin told me that he had seen our exchange and that it was obvious that there was something between Joe and I. He asked me to choose either him or Joe. I have a huge stubborn streak, so I told him that since he was asking me to choose, I would choose Joe, who had seen me with Kevin but hadn't said a word to me about it. Yes, Joe understood me very well. He and I spent some time together the next few days, but I was still very wary of him and spent a lot of time with Amber or by myself. Amber was an incredible friend to me that summer. I was doing things that must have frustrated her to no end, but she was always there to listen to me and help me figure out what I was thinking, or to distract me from myself. She remains one of my greatest friends, in spite of a few years of asinine behavior from me.

Once the vacation ended it was time to return to the real world and see if Joe would live up to his promises. I soon found out that he would not, he was too used to his parents' control and, even though he chafed under it, he was unable to go against them for the time being. Joe began to change in other ways though. He met another girl whom his parents did approve of, and he openly dated her. I was bitterly jealous and dated a series of guy that I really cared nothing for. Joe couldn't exist without drama though, so one day he came to me with a problem. His girlfriend suspected that she was pregnant. There was a catch though. Joe confessed to me that, while they had some as closed as you physically can, they had never actually had sex. Once I gave Joe a proper biology lesson, he determined that she was a little too desperate and crazy for his taste, and they broke up. Shortly after that Joe was kicked out of the Youth Group after he was caught smoking weed. Amazing tactics at that church. A few months later I stopped going to Youth Group because I started working part-time after school. It would be two years until I saw Joe again. It was during this time that I met Jim, got engaged to him, and got unengaged to him.

To be continued...

Monday, September 10, 2007

One Fine Day

Every girl daydreams about being proposed to and how she most wants that moment to happen. Every woman who has ever been proposed to will remember that moment for the rest of her life. In some rare and magical instances, the girlhood daydream is transformed into reality by a man who cares enough about that dream to learn it and aid in its formation. More often, this event is a moderately close attempt at romance as re-imaged by a man being advised by at the very least four different people all at once (a friend of hers, a friend of his, a relative of hers, and a relative of his, all hopefully women). And then there are those who receive the type of proposal that is solely derived from a sense of obligation. I was one of those.

Jim and I met in high school through mutual friends at the beginning of my Junior year and his Senior. My high school had a few of the typical cliques, but it also had a fair amount of people like me, who were not associated with any one clique but tended to drift from group to group with friends in all of them. Jim was also one of these types; it seemed that everyone knew him and genuinely liked him. I'm not sure how exactly we ended up being "officially boyfriend-girlfriend", but we did and I quickly became known as Jim's Girlfriend. We did typical small-town couple activities, lots of movie watching and double dates and In-N-Out. We were each others first everything. We got each other into trouble with our parents. We went to Prom and Homecoming together. We were in love.

Jim enlisted in the Air Force.

I always knew he would, he was in ROTC and his father and his grandfather had been in the military. I didn't think that it was a fantastic idea, but I acknowledged that there were not many options open to a high school senior with mediocre grades and an average SAT score. I supported that it was his decision to make. We often talked about the future and being together through the hard times he would face. Then he found out that he was color-blind and would not, in fact, be able to become a military pilot. He would become a linguist, and his first language assignment was to be Mandarin Chinese. This meant that he would go to Basic Training (Boot Camp for all other branches of the military) for six weeks in Texas and then immediately start his linguistic training in Monterrey for six months, after which he would most likely be stationed in Japan. I would be graduating high school around that time, give or take a month.

One Sunday morning, Jim and I were discussing this very topic and I mentioned how difficult it would be to be apart for such a long time. He got an odd look on his face and fell silent. A few minutes later he said, "What if we weren't apart for that long?" I asked him what he meant, to which he replied, "If we were married you would move with me when I went to Japan." I agreed that this was indeed true, since being married meant living together and such. He asked me "Do you think we should do that?" I said I did and just like that I was seventeen years old and engaged to be married in less that one year.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Love and Memories

I remember when I was a kid, my brother and I used to plan out having an animal sanctuary in our backyard. We drew up very elaborate plans about where the different types of animals would be so as to best accommodate them all. The house I grew up in had a huge backyard. As I've talked about before, one side of the yard held The Aqueduct of Doom. The rest of the yard was a veritable kids' paradise. There was a swing set, complete with a slide (that I once tried to ride a tricycle down), a playhouse with a tire swing in the tree next to it, a tree house in a different tree (there were a lot of trees), an above-ground pool, and finally there was a chicken coop. For the chickens.
Our plans almost always centered around the playhouse. This would alternately serve as a reptile room (my brother always wanted to be a herpetologist) or an area for smaller rodents. We planned to put horses in the back corner, near where the chicken coop was. Oddly enough, the people that moved into my old house did put horses there, so perhaps we were on to something. Over near The Aqueduct of Doom, we had an area that was already sectioned off from the rest of the yard; I think at one time it had been a dog run. We were going to convert that area into something for climbing type animals, like monkeys, bush babies, lemurs, and the like.
The rest of the yard would be dedicated to large cats, since I was mildly obsessed with them. I think we may have planned to have otters or seals or penguin in the pool at various points in time.The one animal that we never included in our plans were bears. My brother used to have recurring nightmares about bears eating us and him trying to rescue us from said bears.
Once we had all of our animals in place, we were going to open our backyard for admission and give tours and teach people about the different types of animals and why they were important.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Never Enough

Why do I have such a hard time enjoying something good happening?

Backstory that you've probably already heard:
I used to work on campus at UCSB in the main kitchen and the entire time I worked there, I had a mad crush on one of the chefs, Ricardo. We were friends and hung out a few times, but nothing ever came of it and we fell out of touch after I graduated.
Flash forward seven months to the Gunther concert, where I ran into him on campus. We chatted and did our How've-You-Beens and then he had to go. No big deal. Another few months go by and then one day out of the blue he called me up and asked me if I'd like to have dinner and see a movie. A month of schedule juggling later, we finally went out. And we still are.
It's all very Sixteen Candles.
So here's my deal. I keep thinking that it's a set up or something. I don't know how to explain myself completely. I just keep anticipating everything to crash and burn. Which I am well aware is Crazy Talk. But it's in my head and I can't get it out. It is seriously starting to bother me. He does these great and unexpected things, and I can never just relax and fully appreciate it. I mean, he knew I liked wine, so the other night when he came over to watch a movie, he brought a Riesling for christsake. Not to mention the fact that he loved Serenity.
So what is my problem? Why do I always have this vague sense of dread whenever something good is happening in my life?

Thursday, August 9, 2007


There are a lot of things that I've been meaning to write about, but I just can't seem to muster the energy. Not even to write, but to do anything really. Everything I think about trying to do has taken on a monumental impossibility. I haven't even gotten around to making a To Do List, because thinking about it makes me want to take a nap. I'm a habitual list-maker, so that's a bit major. Another indication that I'm not quite myself is that my desk is not neat and tidy. I'm one of those weirdos who has trouble functioning with a messy desk, but at the moment, I just can't be bothered. I have a ton of things to do, but I have to wait to get started on them.

I think that has a lot to do with my lethargy. I feel like my whole life has been spent waiting for one thing or another. Waiting to finish high school, waiting to transfer to a UC, waiting to finish my degree, waiting to hear if I got that job, waiting, waiting, waiting. Not to mention all the little waitings in life. And I'm still waiting for things. I'm waiting to take the LSAT next month. I finally finished waiting to start studying for it this week, so that at least is one less thing I'm waiting for. Once I take it, I'll have to wait for the results. And then wait to apply to schools. Wait to hear back. Wait to go. Wait for my life to start.

I'm sick of waiting for that.

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Commence Rant Mode

A friend of mine sent me the following list in an email today, and I am hard pressed to think of a time when I have been more outraged in my life. This list was actually published in Maxim magazine (which should give you a hint of it's contents).

100 Things You Need to Know About Women

You know not to forget her birthday and that her favorite flowers are purple tulips. But you need the complete list. Please use it responsibly.

Maxim, Aug 2006

100. Girls enjoy always having something kind of wrong, like a headache or cramping or something. Remember: No matter how bad it sounds, she's going to outlive you.

Is anyone else really confused by this? Does it mean that all women are complainers? Or that a woman's complaints of physical discomfort should be discounted?

99. Most women will not have sex for the first time with a guy unless their legs are shaved. If your date shows up and you spot stubble, she's trying to keep herself in line.

Ok, I admit that I have purposely not shaved my legs in order to help prevent myself from sleeping with a guy. However. That does not mean that every time I forget to shave or didn't have time to signifies that I am drooling over you.

98. No matter how much she reassures you, if you can't get a hard-on she assumes you're not attracted to her.

Most intelligent women are aware that there are many many mitigating factors. I could go on about the whole "don't trust what women say" nuance, but we'll get to that later.

97. Beware of your girlfriend's single party friend or gay bud. They want her to be single with them and will encourage any bad behavior as often as possible.

For women are, after all, unable to resist the influence of anyone. Fragile creatures are we.

96. Jewelry. Now you always know what to get her for a last-minute gift.

Or you could get her something simple and thoughtful, that shows you know her personality.

95. The sight of you in your socks and underwear is the biggest turnoff in the world.

Yeah those three seconds we see it. Granted, it's not the most appealing combination of clothes for anyone to be seen in, but I can think of quite a few bigger turnoffs.

94. Never trust a girl who has no girlfriends. She doesn't get along with other women because she's either bat-shit crazy or just plain mean.

Ok, I have to agree with this one.

93. Girls who say, "I love sports!" are lying. Girls who ask you what time the game is on, without specifying which game they're talking about, are not.

Loving to play sport and loving to watch sports are two very different things. I love to play sports. Watching them on tv bores the holy hell out of me. So, I will never ask what time the game is on. I will ask you what time our game starts. That means I don't love sports?

92. A random hookup is more likely to result in pregnancy, because a woman has more sex when she's most fertile.

Which is why you use a condom. I guess the author left that part out. They also left out the words "the desire for" between the words "has" and "more".

91. She still has all the love letters and cards from her past boyfriends.

I don't.

90. Just started dating? Women want you to drive, even if it's their car.

No one drives my car expect me, unless I've been drinking. No one. In fact, I hate it when other people are driving. It freaks me out.

89. A girl would prefer to get a $100 gift from Tiffany & Co. than a $500 gift from Fortunoff. Why? Because her friends will ask where she got it.

First of all, "girl"? I thought this was about women...Second of all, this ties back to the "get me something that shows you know my personality" issue from before.

88. "If I give you my number on Friday, Tuesday and Wednesday are your best bets to score a date. Monday is too desperate, Thursday is too late."—Claire, 27

And Claire is the leading authority on all arbitrary dating rules. If I like a guy, I don't give much of a fuck how many days after I give him my number he calls me. Unless it's like six months later at three am.

87. Your female coworkers are obsessed with the fact that on average they receive less pay than male counterparts—and the fact that they work less overtime and get pregnant is irrelevant to the discussion.

There are no words. None. This was published people!

86. Laying a towel down over the wet spot is like putting your jacket over a mud puddle for her, you noble bastard.

Or you could sleep on it your damn self. Have you ever slept on a towel? That shit is uncomfortable.

85. A recent study revealed that natural blondes could be extinct in 200 years, so unless she's Norwegian, her towhead might be bottled.

As a natural blonde, who admittedly lightens her darkening hair, you can tell when a non-blonde woman has dyed her hair.

84. Sixteen percent of American men have been with a prostitute—scientific proof most women are decent in bed.

What? First of all, how is a statistic "scientific proof"? Second of all, if it is as low as sixteen percent, why are there so many hookers?

83. Women always want to believe what you're saying is true.

How about, women will hold you to a standard of honesty?

82. What do women really want in bed? More blankets. They get colder than men.

If I'm too hot in bed, I can't sleep, and having another person there usually makes it too warm.

81. The threesome is not about you; it's about the two girls. If you're lucky enough to score one with your girlfriend, enjoy sex with the other one because there's a good chance it'll end the relationship.

So...even though it's not about you, make it about you?

80. If women have an excuse to take a pill, they'll take it.

I'm not really sure what they're going for with this one. Yeah, if I have a problem and there is a readily available solution, you bet I'll take it. Why wouldn't I?

79. Never trust the woman who gives you the best blow job you've ever had.

Clearly she must be a slut and will cheat on you. No chance that she's invested some time with a long-term partner and honed her technique. That would be silly.

78. "I hate when my boyfriend is sweaty and tries to lie down on top of me or cuddle after I've come. Wait five minutes."— Erin, 21

What happened to Claire? I thought she was our dating authority. Unless Erin is our post-coital authority. What Erin doesn't seem to realize is that sex is messy and she needs to get over it.

77. The average woman kisses 79 men before getting married.

That is possibly the most random number I've ever seen. I don't remember guys I've kissed, and I could only guess at the number.

76. She hates your Xbox more than she lets on. Blow her off for some gaming and she'll soon stop wasting time on a dork like you.

Especially if you're bogarting my Xbox. It's my turn, dammit! You died twice already!

75. Women who are obsessed with their dogs also like to keep their men on a short leash.

Sadly, I've seen evidence of this. Look, I'm not defending crazy-bitch behaviour. But this article perpetuates it and that is beyond irritating.

74. "Girls who buy their men lap dances and pretend to enjoy it are kidding themselves. They're trying to keep him happy with some controlled freedom."— Suzy, 31

This is not something I would ever do. But then, I wouldn't date a guy who habitually went to strip clubs.

73. Over the course of her life, a woman will use 10 men for every one she loves. If you lent her your car or helped her move and didn't get laid, you're one of the 10.

Yet another random-ass statistic. I like how getting laid is the only way that a man can have a favor to a woman returned.

72. During emergencies, women are likely to remain calmer than men. Though it should be noted that inventing minor crises on a weekly basis gives them more practice.

So close. I guess they did have to get that zing in there, or the other guy's magazines would call them sissy. And for the record, I have never seen someone panic in an emergency as much as my Aunt Ann. My dad, on the other hand, has sat patiently holding bits of his own body together (or in some cases, just holding them), waiting for someone to sew him up.

71. "Women grow hairs in a lot of the same places that men do—lower abdomen, nipples—we just get rid of them."— Katie, 26

And your point is?

70. Unless they're lesbians, she won't approve of your hanging out with other girls. Even if they're ugly. And, really, even if they're lesbians.

For no woman shall ever trust a man. It's in our genetics after all.

69. If you have something to hide, she'll find it.

So you should be honest and tell her about it in the first place.

68. Eighty-five: The number of males per 100 females in Gary, Indiana, lowest male-to-female ratio of any city with a population of 100,000-plus. The highest male-to-female ratio is in Salinas, California: 114 males for every 100 females.

Why is this on the list?

67. Kiss her before two dates have gone by or you'll be "friended."

Yeah you pussy. No woman has ever become interested in and developed a meaningful romantic relationship with a friend.

66. They can't live without tension. Every once in a while she's gonna pick a fight with you for no reason. Accept this as a running, inevitable theme and your relationship will make a lot more sense.

Wha...? I wish I had less tension. I strive to rid myself of it. If I am fighting with a man, there's a reason. I'm not going to stick around with someone who consistently pisses me off.

65. The most painless way to end an argument: Let her win.

Why take the trouble to resolve the problem when you can just ignore it and get into the same argument over and over?

64. An online dating service's survey found that a woman's ideal man has brown hair and blue eyes.

And it's on the internet, so it must be true!

63. In the U.S., 21 percent of women ages 18 to 59 hold out for their honeymoon.

That is a huge age gap and a very small percentage. I'm just sayin'...

62. A British study claims a woman's chances of getting married drop by 40 percent for every 16-point rise in her IQ. The same increase in IQ for a man boosted his chances of getting married by 35 percent.

Just let that sink in...Lower IQ women are more likely to get married (I shall avoid obvious jokes) and higher IQ men are more likely to get married. men like stupid women? I am screwed.

61. When a woman tells you her problems, she does not want you to offer solutions.

Except for when she does.

60. Women often cite manhandling of breasts as the biggest foreplay faux pas.

No arguments here.

59. "When I'm drunk, I can't come. Not even with a vibrator."— Lauren, 35

Which is a great excuse for guys to not worry about how sex is for drunk women. I mean, she's not gonna come anyway, why bother. Right? Jesus Christ.

58. If they're going to do it, most wives cheat between the ages of 18 and 29.

Well if they got married, clearly they were stupid. Can you expect them to live beyond 29?

57. Most women think they're better drivers than they are. Don't point this out while she's at the wheel or she'll freak and crash.

I admit, I drive like an insane person. I have also never been in an accident that was my fault. I don't think some guy in my car bitching about my driving ability would make me "freak and crash". It might get him pushed out the door though.

56. Women ingest about half the lipstick they apply, which means they eat approximately one to three sticks per year.


55. [missing]

54. A woman might say she just wants sex, but sleep with her for a while and she'll change her tune. "I've known so many women who think they can pull this off, but they always develop feelings for the guy," says Evie, 22.

I hate it when "feelings" is used like this. If you interact with someone more than once, you will develop feelings for them, good and bad.

53. According to the American Association of Facial Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery, Angelina Jolie's lips were the most requested celebrity feature among all female patients in 2004.

I could get all evolutionary psychology about this, but I don't want to bore you. So I will say: Duh.

52. Despite always complimenting another woman's short haircut, she secretly celebrates having one less competitor, since men prefer long hair.

I currently have long hair and it drives me nuts. I have had one inch long hair. My best friend has short hair and she is gorgeous.

51. Don't call her "cute." In her mind it's the same as "not vomit-inducing." "Sexy," OK. "Hot," yes. "Fucking awesome," only if she's at least slightly buzzed.

Yes, because hearing some clown yell "Yer haaaaaaaaaawt" is my idea of the perfect compliment. I don't like being called cute because I have a bit of a Napolean complex and it's a diminutive.

50. Women often buy shoes a size or two small because they're in denial about the size of their feet—which they can't stand.

What the hell? It is not possible to wear a shoe that is two sizes too small!

49. They dream of one day peeing in a urinal.

Well, not really. But they had to fit penis envy in here somewhere I guess.

48. Women know where they stand looks-wise but worry about being considered cool, about which they're unsure.

I know I'm a dork, and I flaunt it. The other day in fact, I had a discussion about commas and semi colons.

47. According to the U.S . Bureau of Statistics, 23 percent of 18- to 34-year-old women live with their parents, versus 31 percent of you losers.

Getting a job after college is hard. Paying rent while in college is hard. Solution? Live at home.

46. Women want to talk dirty, but they're afraid you won't respect them in the morning. Reassure her that letting go in bed doesn't make her less classy and she'll probably go wild. Jäger helps.

Especially since you won't have to worry about her needs when she's drunk anyway, right Lauren? This is like three steps away from "women secretly want to be raped, but they're afraid you won't respect them in the morning. Raping her helps."

45. Twenty-three percent of this magazine's readers are women.

Ladies who are reading Maxim, stop it. Stop reading Cosmo too.

44. A psycho jealous girl will do anything to keep her man—including anal.

I Seriously?

43. [missing]
42. [missing]

41. If she suddenly cuts her hair short, it might mean she no longer cares what you think of her. But that doesn't mean she doesn't care about someone else's opinion.

Or it could mean that she just got sick of her hair. Unless all of her appearance-relation decisions must be cleared by you.

40. About half of all brides will lose a good friend over a ridiculous bridesmaid squabble.

I don't know if I would define someone who would stop being my friend over a "ridiculous bridesmaid squabble" a good freind.

39. It never hurts to say you're sorry, even if you don't mean it.

Saying shit you don't mean is lying. Want your girlfriend to trust you? Don't lie.

38. Let her beat you at something once in a while—poker, chess, Ping-Pong—and she'll be more likely to give you what you want, like some peace and quiet.

Especially since we intellectually inferior females can't win on our own.

37. Women's public bathrooms are about three times more disgusting than men's.

True. I'm sorry, but it's true.

36. "At one point or another, I've gone through your things looking for any evidence from past relationships. I'm talking photographs, postcards, mementos, address books, diaries. If you don't like it, get rid of this stuff before letting me in your apartment. It's not about trust; it's about curiosity, and it drives us crazy till it's been satiated."— Caroline, 28

At one point or another, you should tell me about your past relationships.

35. Like you, girls hate nothing more than a clingy partner who needs them every eight seconds.

This I have no argument with. I have shit to do. You need to have shit to do that does not involve me.

34. Chick rock strikes a deeply primal chord inside women while simultaneously revolting men. Just sit back and let her sing the Sarah McLachlan or Ani DiFranco song. It's only about four minutes long.

Let her? Let her?! Look, if you can make an air-guitaring fool out of yourself, I can sing whatever I want. Not that I'm likely to voluntarily listen to chick rock...

33. The average woman owns eight bras and wears each one five times before washing. Shasta!

Bras are expensive and the washer creates a lot of wear and tear. And do we want to talk about your socks or underwear? Seriously, most items of clothing are worn a few times before being washed and everyone does it.

32. Girls will not sit on any toilet outside their own home or a five-star hotel. Everywhere else they're hovering above the toilet in a squat.

That is because women's restrooms are gross.

31. Got a new girl coming over? Your (tidy) bathroom should include clean linen, a box of Puffs Plus, and several full rolls of TP.

Ok this is extreme, but yeah, you do need to have a moderately clean bathroom with toilet paper.

30. "Don't caress our faces while we're kissing, unless you really, really, really like us."—Rachel, 21

Or ever in my case. Why is Rachel the kissing expert? Here's a novel idea: get to know what the woman you are actually kissing likes and dislikes.

29. On a first date, women never order what they really want to eat.

For most of our lives, we never order what we really want to eat.

28. Breast augmentation surgery has grown by 257 % since 1997. The most popular size? C-cup. As if you didn't know.

Are they possibly feeding arguments to men trying to convince their girlfirends to get a boob job?

27. Gain her trust when you're out by calling her at 10 P.M. She'll go to bed content you're thinking of her, even if you're slurping Jell-O shots off some skank's cleavage.

Or you could gain her trust by being a decent human being and not acting like a lying asshole. Just a thought.

26. Put down the Drakkar and grab a box of Good & Plenty. Women are turned on by the scent of black licorice.

Unless they are like me and the smell of licorice makes them naseuous.

25. At least one of her friends wants to sleep with you.

Again, I could take an evolutionary psychology tangent, but this thing is already way too long.

24. A good but flawed man is a fixer-upper gem, and women love nothing more than home improvements.

No, if I feel like there would have to be significant changes in a man I'm dating in order for me to be satisfied, it's not worth my time to try to "fix" him. I'm just going to find a better one.

23. Every woman is self-conscious about her ass. Tell her you love her ass and you'll see it more often.

Or she will know you are lying and resent you for it. It's a toss-up.

22. If you want more sex, tell your girl an attractive woman hit on you that day. Sixty percent of the time, it works every time.

Thank you Anchorman. Y'know, if I never hear or see that quote again, it will be too soon. To the point, this has to do with some more boring evolutionary psychology stuff.

21. More than half of surveyed females between 18 and 25 would prefer to be run over by a truck than be fat.

What survey? How many women were surveyed?

20. All women think they're smarter than their partners in some significant way.

That's because it's so easy to trick you or catch you in a lie.

19. The more piercings she has, the more places she'll let you put it.

Yes, this must be true, since everything else in life is exactly as it appears to be.

18. Once in a while, let her pick the movie and don't complain about it.

Ugh. I'm exhausted. Just read these. I think you get my point by now.

17. Any good woman will tell ya, honesty is not always the best policy.

Ok last one, I promise. Bad woman, seeking honesty in a relationship! Bad, bad woman!

16. Chicks aren't afraid to get kinky; you just have to have the nerve to ask.

15. Girls don't want to date doormats. So make her proud and refuse to give up bowling night with the guys.

14. Don't take a woman to a concert you really want to see—she'll just want to leave early.

13. "Women appreciate a big penis, but having one doesn't give you an excuse to suck at foreplay."— Elena, 28

12. Studies show women are more attracted to "macho" guys near ovulation. The rest of the month, they're drawn to "good providers," otherwise known as chumps.

11. She likes one of your friends.

10. Ugly girls like to hang out with pretty girls because it makes them feel like they're more attractive. Pretty girls hang out with ugly girls for the same reason.

9. The minute she decides she's even mildly interested in you, she starts making mental pictures of what your kids would look like and imagining her first name with your last.

8. Sixty percent of women in the United States color their hair, according to L'Oréal (who are obviously hoping they can peer-pressure the other 40 percent).

7. Dated a stripper? Keep your mouth shut, stupid.

6. Rub a sheet of medium-grade sandpaper across your face. That's your five o'clock shadow when you kiss her. Now rub that sandpaper on your inner thigh. (Mind you, we're not suggesting you shave.)

5. Female serial killers tend to use poison rather than guns or knives.

4. Foghat's "Slow Ride" is not about a trip in the car. Get the hint?

3. The one breakup line she'll never be able to argue you out of: "I'm sorry, but I no longer have feelings for you."

2. Buying a present for your girl? She'll hate it (and you) if she finds out you took along another woman to help pick it out.

1. You'll probably never know how many guys she's slept with. The standard lie is five. Which really means about 12.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

10 Signs That It Is Going To Be A Bad Day

1. You wake up seven minutes before your alarm is supposed to go off.

2. You run out of conditioner in the midst of putting it on, and are only able to condition about half of your hair.

3. The shirt you wanted to wear is dirty.

4. Your computer is r e a l l y s l o w . Uh-oh. Viruses?

5. Your hair dryer shuts off and will not start again, and your hair is in that weird not-wet, but not-dry stage.

6. Something spilled in the fridge. Something very sticky.

7. Guess what? It's raining. Now your under-conditioned, not-wet but not-dry hair is all frizzy.

8. Everyone on the freeway forgets how to drive. Of course.

9. As soon as you turn on your work computer, it reminds you that you have a two hour meeting this afternoon.

10. It takes you a full fifteen minutes to find some fucking coffee that is not left over from yesterday.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Warm Fuzzies

I don't have a lot of family that I'm close to. In fact, I don't really have all that many people that I'm close to. But this past weekend was spent with members of my family that I never thought I would be able to spend time with all together. Especially not having things go as well as they did. Amazing, right? Your eyes do not deceive you. That is Mama, Dad, Dennis, and Brian all sitting together. All laughing together. I love this picture more than words can express.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007


I love Arizona. It is a place of opposites and extremes. The only comfortable middle ground to be found is artificial. In its natural state, Arizona gives no quarter. In winter, the days are freezing and the nights even colder. In the summer the heat will scorch your throat until you breathe in gasps and year round the air will leech the moisture out of you until you feel that you will be thirsty for the rest of your life. At the peak of the heat of summer, another extreme will confront you. Just when you feel as though you are about to pass out from heat exhaustion, a drop of water lands on your nose. Startled, you pause. Another drop hits your forehead. For a few seconds, you are afraid that you've begun to hallucinate. A bright flash of light draws your eyes upward. As your disbelieving eyes take in a ceiling of roiling black clouds, a booming peal of thunder echos across the sky and the clouds open up in earnest. Within minutes, you are soaked through and running for cover, as lightning flashes all around and thunder cracks like some demon coachman, driving you on. Half an hour later, the sky is startlingly blue and the air around you is steaming. The edge of the mountains seems to slice into the sky like a knife. This image is helped along by the red-stained earth freshly saturated with rain, looking a little too much like blood for comfort.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007


Just one more reason to boycott Wal-Mart.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

The Trouble With Love Is

I've been thinking about past relationships a lot lately, and I've come to the conclusion that I have a bad habit of dating guys that either a) have little to no future or b) are assholes. Sometimes they were a combination of both, like a sliding scale (but not like a Lazy Susan, Shawn). Now the asshole thing would be somewhat understandable, if I were talking about guys that are assholes in that "bad boy" sort of way, where they secretly have a heart of gold and all they need is the tender love of the right girl to reform them. Unfortunately, that is not the case. I am referring to the more sinister type of asshole-ness, the type that sneaks up on you. These guys seem normal when you first meet them, and for a while after they remain in that normal category. However, slowly, very slowly, you begin to witness jerk-type behavior. And you make excuses, "Oh, he's just cranky" or "He's stressed out" and the like. After a while though, it becomes undeniable that this guy is a full-fledged asshole. At which point, you shake your head and sigh at wasting so much time, and you move on. Hopefully.

Much more prevalent in my life have been guys that have little to no future. This trend is more disturbing as well, and the reason is two-fold. One, it preys on my nurturing side. I know that I try to come off as a cold-hearted bitch, but the reality is that if I truly care about someone, I'm very generous with them. Two, aside from being a general asshole, my father was great at not having a future. Sure, he's got his shit together now, and he has a nice business out in Texas, but when I was a kid, it was one job after another after another. Not to mention being in and out of rehab. Not that I think that he's lazy, in fact just the opposite. The man can't stop doing things. Even on his days off, he would constantly tinker in the garage on a variety of projects. The problem was that none of his ideas and projects spanned beyond the moment of conception. Sure, it might take a few months to follow through and complete whatever he was working on, but it was only to be able to say that he had accomplished whatever it was. There was never any thought to the bigger picture, no plans or projects with real staying power, nothing that would improve his mode of living above its current state.

This worries me, since I seem to have an affinity for guys with the same type of mentality, a sort of lack of ability to act toward to future. I have been getting better about this. I've gone from dating a guy living in a tent in a trailer park (no joke) to a really great guy who just doesn't have the level of motivation that I'm looking for. But this trend really makes me wonder if I will always choose guys that need some sort of care-taking. Would I recognize a guy who could share the care-taking burden equally?