Hello Mystery Phone Stalker

So, I've gotten some missed calls the last few days. I thought it was this guy I met, whose number I did not save when he called me last week, who didn't want to leave a message because I didn't "call" him from his first one (I emailed and said sorry I missed your call, my friend was in town all weekend). So he hits me on messenger today, and I say, hey have you been trying to call me? No.

Hmmmm. . .so of course, I make my friend call the number.

Guess what? It's the guy from the ejacu-mail. He called me three times on Monday BEFORE I ejacu-mailed him. I bet he thinks I figured it out and am being cute by pretending I don't know who's calling me. He called me again last night. I missed it again. Look how busy and unavailable I am (especially when he DOESN'T LEAVE MESSAGES).

Ok, so he's kind of a phone stalker. . .but he's hot. I'm giddy about this, is that wrong?

I think when he calls later, I'm going to answer, "Hello Mystery Phone Stalker."

Seersucker and Ejacu-mail

I KNOW this to be true, I just can't find it in the Code!

O.C.G.A. Sec. 58-0-??? Every male attorney in the city of Savannah shall own at least one seersucker suit of blue-and-white stripes. Said attorneys shall be measured and fitted for them, and they shall be issued upon the day said attorneys are sworn in to Superior Court, in the Seersucker Department of the Chatham County Courthouse. Every male attorney shall wear said seersucker suit at least once a month from Memorial Day to Labor Day each year. Seersucker suits for female attorneys are optional, but encouraged. Modeled on La. Statutes Annotated 47-6-54: Common name, New Orleans Seersucker Law.

It's pretty amusing when several show up wearing theirs on the same day, too.

Oops
I just ejacu-mailed an email prematurely. To a guy I googled. (What? He told me his name and he seemed VERY VERY interested. And he was SO EASY to find.) I had the window open and was waiting on my relationship advisor, Opinionated, to advise me on whether I should or not, and then, I got clicking and closing and organizing windows after a bit. . .and I ejacu-mailed it! Oh well. It was incredibly flirtateous, but I was probably going to send it anyway. Who am I kidding?

I'm not your girlfriend, dude. You'll know if I am.

Well that explains it!

Once a guy told me that he wouldn't sleep with a girl unless she was his girlfriend. He seemed a little offended that my requirements weren't so stringent. I quickly figured out that he made people his "girlfriend" far more casually than I would become one.

Excluding high school, which doesn't count, I've had three "boyfriends" in my life.

Like, real ones. That lasted longer than a couple months. Boyfriend to me means EXCLUSIVE. And those three relationships were 2 years +, 1 1/2 years, and just short of 2 years. This guy had a "girlfriend" every time he turned around. I'm not going to make someone my boyfriend just to get to sleep with him. Why bother?

Another guy told me that he wouldn't date someone he wouldn't consider marrying

He told me the other day that his girlfriend of 6 months was getting on his nerves and that he thought a good way to break up with her (not that he's made that decision yet) would be leave a note while she was in the shower or something. !! Maybe both these guys should put a little more thought into who they make their "girlfriends." There's no need to rush. If you want to grant the relationship some degree of "importance" (i.e. "it's a sexual relationship now," or "we're serious and on the track to marriage now"). . .geez, take a little more time to make an "important" decision. One you're not going to flake out on down the line.

Boyfriends are something it's hard to get rid of

I mean, I don't want to get into a Relationship, Capital "R", those are kind of hard to end. As long as you're just dating, it's easier to end. I mean, I guess when feelings start to get involved, there's no stopping them, no matter what you "label" it, but you shouldn't "commit" to the idea of a Relationship until both parties are serious. I wouldn't date anyone I wouldn't consider marrying either. I've also never thought about breaking up with one of those people after 6 months!

I've MADE Mistakes, I Haven't MARRIED My Mistakes

I've known several on-again-off-again relationships to all of a sudden bloom into marriages. It's not a good sign when you call up a friend to ask him to be a groomsman only to have him ask, "Oh y'all are back together?" It's like those couples who have babies because their marriage is suffering. . .getting married is apparently a viable way to save an ailing relationship too.

Who are these people who take relationships so casually? Am I weird because I don't?

Cleared My Head

In the interest of clearing out my muddled brain, I took stock of my "dating" situation today at lunch, in the park, under a tree:

Number of guys on the docket this week who I consider Datable: 11

Number of those guys who make my brain turn to mush when I try to think about what changed between a week's worth of multiple hour phone calls, a great date, and some pretty steamy physical attraction (but not TOO steamy): 1

Number of those guys who won't date me because of religious reasons, so will continue to be a hook-up buddy: 1

Number of those guys who I am attracted to and think like me, but probably won't (immediately) stop hooking up with a rather bitchy girl who revels in making sure that she stakes her claim to him openly, in my presence: 1

Number of those guys who are bordering on too old for me: 3-4

Number of those guys who live out of town: 5

Number of those guys who have girlfriends: 3

Number of those guys whom I haven't met yet: 3

Number of those guys who I can't figure out how to give my number to, since we only see each other at the gym: 1

Number of those guys who I had a hard time giving my number to, cause he was with his girlfriend (don't judge, he surreptitiously asked for it repeatedly): 1

Number of those guys I see primarily as free dinner: 2

Number of potentials that I do not consider datable, but would hook up with consistently, but I must choose between because they know each other: 2

Number of those guys who already blew me off once, pretty much making the above decision easier: 1

There's no getting around it: I'm buck. (Wild, that is.)

Bitchy things I did this weekend:

Called the guy I was dating until about 3 weeks ago and proposition him (as a joke) in a voicemail (which then very clearly became an obvious joke, as I was laughing hysterically while leaving it). Except, he didn't get the memo it was a joke, and so when he called me back, an hour later, I disdainfully asked him "Why are you CALLING me?" He was fishing for an invitation, but I didn't bite. It was a joke, dude. I wasn't TRYING to be bitchy, I was just really at a loss as to why he would call me. It was a rhetorical voicemail.

Made out in a bar on a guy's lap. I looked up to see the same guy from paragraph 1 WALKING BY. Again, unintentional.

Tried to hide the fact that I was making out with that guy when another guy who was more my type starting hitting on me. He asked my girlfriend to be sure and give "the brunette's" number to his friend (who she was talking to) because he was in an "interesting" situation. I came to realize that the "interesting" situation was his girlfriend, who was with him in the bar. Right next to him in fact. Talk about the player playing the player. (PS This man could well be perfect for me. . .is it wrong that I DID give his friend my number. . .for when the "on-again-off-again" girlfriend is "off again"??)

While talking to a guy (the night before--how many do you think I can fit in one night?) and after my friend walked up and I introduced her, when she asked, "What happened to you?" proceeded to go into detail about how I'd walked into that room to find a guy I thought was really cute but I couldn't now find him, as though "George" had evaporated. Then I said, "let's go look for him," at which point, we walked away.

I feel certain I shook my head at several guys and said "unh-huh" or "no." 'Cause well, that ALWAYS happens.

Funny things I/we did this weekend:

Decided that all the "funny" drink names at Wet Willie's (Call-A-Cabs, Attitude Adjustments, etc.) should be renamed "Bad Sexual Choices." 'Cause that's what they cause you to make.

Asked virtually every guy I talked to about the length and girth ("by that, I mean circumference") of their physical attributes. Encouraged girlfriends to do same. One girlfriend, who shall remain nameless (and no, it's no one we "know" in this blogging world), verified said information IN THE BAR by copping a feel.

One girlfriend got a piggy back ride from a guy who felt the need to prove his masculinity, even though he was small. I'm not sure that she didn't outweigh him. She then proceeded to say, "The Little Guy's giving me a ride" and CLICK HER HEELS on his backside as though he were a horse. I almost fell in the street laughing.

Heard 2nd hand that the girlfriend who copped the feel got blown off by her prospect "Hosea" and the proceeded to say, "I just got blown off. He didn't even speak English" as though that were the insulting part.

Drunk dialed everyone I knew. Repeatedly.

Clever things I did this weekend:

Told some guys I was talking to, when my girlfriend summoned me out of the bar that "she had a relationship with Justin Timberlake. So now, any time his music plays. . .we just have to leave."

Proceeded to describe some of my recent hook-ups as "wise sexual choices" because most of the guys don't live in town and I won't have to see them again. I was quickly corrected with a "THAT'S a little strong." I almost sprayed diet coke in my car.

Slutty things I did this weekend:

Wore the Paris Hilton skirt. It's denim, it's pleated, it's short as hell. You don't feel like you're wearing anything. And in addition to looking like something Paris Hilton would wear, it apparently also causes me to ACT like Paris Hilton--buck wild, inappropriate, and lots of ass-shaking. I think it's retired after last night. (Along with the Too Busy to FCUK shirt my brother brought me back from French Connection UK. 'Cause that's trouble too.) On the upside, I did get LOTS of complements on my legs and all in all, I'm feeling pretty hot today.

Whilst wearing said skirt, proceeded to dance and do a lot of sultry well-timed leg lifting (Think Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights) as though the bar WANTED to see my ass.

See the paragraph above about making out in the bar.

See the paragraph above about verifying physical attribute information.

My brother (my hero) and Jim.

I was just fixing my 'do in order to facilitate me leaving the house at a reasonable hour to go drink, and I spied some Superfriends note cards that I bought my brother for his birthday. I like the Superfriends too, but I'm really more of a Wonder Woman fanatic, whereas these have some spiffy Aquaman and Wonder Twins and Green Lantern and the Flash notecards. I felt them more suited to him. Which got me to thinking about my brother. Matt is 8 years older than me. He's the closest, in age, and emotionally. I grew up with siblings so much older than me that I was doted on from a very young age (and treated like I was by definition immature. . .it's a double-edged sword!). Matt is one of my favorite people. I remember once when I was about 8, he dressed me up in a "cool" outfit to go with him and his friends to the movies. Cool outfit consisted of an oversized "Swatch" Sweatshirt turned dress (appropriate on an 8 year old). I remember how old I was because I can remember what my hair looked like. Isn't that weird? He would've been 16. Who takes their 8 year old sister out with them when they're 16?? I can't even remember what we saw. Only that I went.

He has a Halloween party every year. My love of Halloween and dressing up stems from him. My mother is also an excellent seamstress. . .I owe Jeannie (just like Barbara Eden), Wonder Woman, and my Chicago flapper costume to her, in recent years, as well as Snow White and a slew of others as a child. Matt and I start discussing about this time every year what our Halloween costumes are going to be. He's responsible for my love of comics too. We try to go see movies that we're really excited about together. I saw the first Lord of the Rings with him. I don't think I saw Spiderman with him, but we talked about it like the week after, cause we both went IMMEDIATELY. We both saw Harry Potter, this last one, on opening night. We have a lot in common!! We are by far the coolest and most sane of the siblings. We get excited about geeky things, though ;-)

Matt is gay. (Both my brothers are, but that's a different subject for a different post.) He was partnered with Jim for many years. . .I'll say 5 or 6. Jim had AIDS (Matt does not). Jim died my senior year of college. He was like a brother to me too. Matt and Jim owned a home together, a very nice one in a very swanky part of Atlanta. They had done all kinds of renovations (and Matt has done more now). They had three dalmations, Pepper, Bruce, and Katie. Katie died the year after Jim did. Matt was devastated. I told him that Jim needed Katie more than he did. Bruce and Pepper still live at the house, and Matt is with Laurence now. Laurence is great too. They have Bella now too, who used to be Laurence's sister's dog. I read Jim's will after he died. If Matt didn't survive him, if they died simultaneously (in an accident or something), I was next in line to get the house and the dogs. It may sound stupid to say, but for some people, especially but not limited to gay couples, being the one to get their animals and their home to take care of if something happens to them. . .that's an honor. I knew then how much Jim loved and trusted me. If he'd trust me with his animals!

Matt called me yesterday. He's going on a trip. He said, "I know this is morbid, but. . ." they had changed their wills (Matt and Laurence now) to say that if they didn't survive each other, the dogs will go to Laurence's sister. Because she has a history with Bella and Bella and Pepper are bonded now and they can't split up the dogs. And then, there's a life insurance policy with my name on it, that Matt wants to go to Laurence's sister just in case, in case she needs to buy a house in Florida, where she lives, to take care of the dogs. "I just wanted you to know. . .if that's ok." My brother! It's kind of funny, but those dogs are like his children. I told him he has to do what's best for the dogs. . .but he just wanted me to know. I don't care in the least of course. I'm glad that I was ever in line to take care of the most important thing my brother has. If he died. I know it's morbid.

As for Jim. Well, I miss him a lot. I have his picture on a memory board at my house. Sleeping with Katie. People always ask me, "Who is this guy?" That's Jim. He died of AIDS. I miss him. I look at him every day. It's funny, I love my brother. And I loved Jim. And I know how much I mean, not only only to Matt, who's related to me by blood, but to Jim too, because of that provision in his will. Jim was great, wonderful and funny (oh God, so funny, so funny your sides hurt after being around him). He did this great impression of Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest in the hanger scene. Matt and I COULD NOT stop laughing. I can see him doing it now. I'm starting to cry as I type this. . .do you think you get to see people ever again when they die? I hope so. I just have to believe there's a place with those people, call it Heaven. Or call it whatever. I don't know, I struggle with faith, but I have a strong belief there's something after this. Of course, someone will read this and think that there is such a place, but Jim can't get there because he's gay. Oh hogwash. He's somewhere, and I can't wait to see him again!! So funny! So pure of heart. Really.

At Jim's memorial service in Atlanta, I read a poem. I can't remember the name but it was basically about being able to go on to something better because your health wouldn't allow you to do what you wanted in this life. My brother picked it and asked me to read it because he couldn't, without crying. I did. Cause that's what kind of relationship we have. When we had Jim's memorial service in Florida, with his family, I can vividly remember me, Matt, Ben and Laura (my incredibly religious-conservito sister) all just standing around and bawling like babies. We couldn't stop crying when the minister spoke, any of us. Jim was a part of our family. No matter what. . .no matter that he and Matt lived an "alternative" lifestyle ;-) I hope I can find a man half as good as Jim for myself. I should take lessons from Matt.

Attention: City of Savannah Bar Patrons, URGENT

To: The City of Savannah
From: Savannah Police Dept.
URGENT, WARNING, BAR PATRONS BEWARE

Two bitter, yet hot, women will be descending upon the bar scene at approximately 10 PM this evening, Friday, June 25, 2004. We don’t know what to expect, but suspect that they will be engaging in drunken and debaucherous behavior. The suspects fit the following descriptions: Known only by her alias, Sweet "Opinionated" Tits, she is 5’9”, ravishingly beautiful with sassy blonde locks, green eyes, and one helluva rack. She has been known to make men fall on their knees and beg for mercy. The Sugartastic Babe, as she is known, is 5’6”, dark brown hair, brown eyes, and usually wears shockingly red lipstick. While her rack is not quite as pert as that of her cohort, she’s still built like a brickhouse, just a shorter, less lanky version. She has been known to throw beer on men and still have them beg for the mere opportunity to kiss her (very nice) ass.

These two women have just come off an unusually bad week or overloaded work schedules and suitors not behaving up to par; they are fierce, they are vicious, and they have a high liquor tolerance. They have been known to dance on bars and shoot evil looks at men who, in the guise of staying within their dating "tier," are actually jumping FAR above it. They giggle, they dance, they find themselves far more amusing than most men, and they will YELL things, of an obnoxious and insulting nature, aloud in drinking establishments, if they think you suck. They are known to inquire of passersby who don't seem to understand their mutual self-obsession, "Have you SEEN us?!?" Mothers, lock up your daughters unless you want them to emulate this floozy-ish behavior.

We have called the national reserve back into town and believe that their training for the G8 will serve us well in this capacity. Please alert your local law enforcement officers immediately if you have a sighting of either one of these severely hot women, although they will almost definitely be traveling together. Do not get too close; do not point or stare; only approach them if you are a really attractive man between the ages of 28-36, at least 6’0” (6’4” for the blonde), and HAVE A PAIR. Pansy ass men should stay far far away. We expect they are primed to attack.

Does anyone want a year's suscription to Entertainment Weekly?

If I renew by the 26th, I get a FREE gift subscription for someone. I'm going to renew anyway, and I've been trying to think, who might really want it? I'm obsessed with it, but I also get the paper (weekends only) and end up throwing it away most days. And that's a hassle. I don't want someone to throw away Entertainment Weekly, I want someone to enjoy it as I do. . .so, any takers? I'll just need your address. . . I'm dead serious, no catch.

Peanut Butter and the Women Who Love It (on their thighs)

Food items I genuinely love:
1) ice cream
2) cheese
3) sweet potato casserole (a recent addition to the favorites, courtesy of Mrs. Wilkes', a family style Southern "kitchen" in Savannah that has the best sweet potatoe casserole ever! I don't even know what else they serve).

Food items with which I am obsessed:
1) peanut butter.

Seriously, I've eaten an entire jar in like a week. Ok, maybe 2 weeks. And a cup of it went into a recipe for Peanut Butter BBQ chicken, but that only speaks to the level of affection I have for this gift from God, Peanut Butter. Once, in Spain, this Italian guy told me he didn't know what that was. They don't have it apparently. I said a quick prayer thanking God for Jimmy Carter. And we're not talking I've been shoveling back PBJ sandwiches. PB is the only of the three ingredients South Beach Diet approved (although probably not in the quantities I consume it!). But I do routinely eat it out of the jar. Back before South Beach, I would eat it and jelly together RIGHT OFF THE SPOON. Or (yum, try this) with chocolate chips. . .again, right off the spoon. I'm eating it with raisins now. It could be the sole source of my recent weight gain, come to think of it!! Whatever. I will not give it up. But I've forbidden myself from buying another jar for a few weeks, I obviously have no self-control.

What offsets the peanut butter consumption:

I do go to the gym mostly every day, in my constant struggle to peel off pounds (it's been about 3 weeks and I'm about 4 1/2 pounds down. . .which isn't amazing, but it's good, and slow and steady weight loss wins the race, right?). And here is my current favorite list of Powerful, Independent, Booty Shaking Chick Songs. . .they pump me up, and you know what? It's good not only to kick start your workout, but to blow off steam about confused and confusing boys (read the Parachute post). (They're not all "chick" songs, but they're all good self esteem pumping songs.)

The Middle Jimmy Eats World (reminds you to "be yourself! It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else.")
It's Raining Men Slutty Spice a la Bridget Jones' "fight scene" or the Weather Girls (reminds you that there are plenty more where the last one came from)
I'm a Slave for You or Boys (or both) Brit (reminds me how easy it is to get boys to leave clubs with you cause you're hot) (some of you Britney fans may have noticed this is really the same song, two tracks apart)
Overprotected Brit again (reminds me that well, I can't say it any better than her: I don't need nobody; Tellin me just what I wanna; What I what what I'm gonna; Do about; my destiny; I Say No, No; Nobody tell me just what what what I wanna do, do; I'm so fed up with people telling me to be; Someone else but me)
Independent Women, Part 1 Destiny's Child, Charlies' Angels Soundtrack (shoes on my feet, I bought 'em)
Extraordinary Liz Phair (Have you ever thought it's you who's boring? Who the hell are you?)

Will be posting more Chica Rock, workout songs for chicks as I work my way down on the old Ipod.

Conversations with Co-counsel

10:15 AM Hey, Co-Counsel. This is Me2. I'm working on this thing now. Yeah, Partner told me you were looking for the depositions of X and Y. We don't have X. We don't have Y. I checked all the boxes to make sure it didn't get shuffled in with something else. Don't know where they are.

2:30 PM Ring.
Hey Me2, this is Co-Counsel. Do you have Y's deposition?
No, I sure don't. I checked before. Sorry.

5:15 PM Ring.
Hey Me2, Co-Counsel again. You have X's deposition, don't you?
Nope. Sorry.

Is this guy trying to trick me? I don't have either of those things. Rephrasing the question as an affirmative intonation will not make me have them.

Dating Without a Parachute

Have you ever dated a person who seemed too good to be true, from the very beginning? I don't mean just, that you cliqued. I mean, the level of attention this person pays to you and the level of attraction they have for you is so strong and the ways in which they exhibit it is so appropriate and perfect for your taste, that you just think, wow this person really likes me! And maybe at first, you're casual about it. You're like, yeah, I like them, they're cool. And then, the more cool things they say about how much they like you and how much you have in common and the more romantic innuendo. . .well, the more you start to get sucked in. I'm talking, the level of attention and lengths they'll go to to spend time with you. . .borders on psycho, but falls just short. . .and therein, in that magical space between psycho and disinterested, lies your new crush.

I should also add, the couple of times this has happened to me, there usually accompanied some obscenely lengthed phone calls, sometimes late at night and when the other person was drunk, some bordering on inappropriate declarations of amorous feelings, and hyperactive rushing behavior facilitating their seeing me again--incidentally, both were out of town guys, thereby making the facilitating seeing me again more of a chore, and the drunk dials less inappropriate, because of the impracticality of them actually being "booty" calls.

So, in one of these situations. . .after meeting me once, kissing me when drunk, sending me flowers the next week, calling me every few days for a few weeks, and talking to me for hours +, telling me about a couple other girls he was dating, but that he really just wished I lived closer cause he was far more interested in me, and then, facilitating the buying of a PLANE TICKET for me to come out to New Orleans and visit him over Xmas, Weird Al Psychotic, we'll call him, calls me up one day, tells me he doesn't think it's such a good idea anymore and proceeds to act like I'm the one who's getting a little too into it. What?! Ok, I'm sorry, you're right, I shouldn't have jumped to the conclusion that you were really diggin' me just cause you bought me a plane ticket, my bad. Come to find out, things had progressed a little faster with one of the other girls than he thought they would. When they broke up a few months later, he was right back to calling me again. By that time, I knew the guy was an idiot.

Well, I may be in a similar situation now. I don't want to call a spade a spade yet, because object o' my affection assures me that he's not trying to bow out of dating me, he's just got some stuff going on that he needs to deal with. I told him, "Listen, I've had guys do this before, be completely into me, driving the action, and then all of a sudden, when I start to reciprocate, they pull the emergency break." "No, no, that's not what I'm doing, I promise, just trust me, just give me some time to think through some stuff. I'll tell you, I promise, I just need to get it straight in my head first. We'll talk about it later." I want to trust him. I do. I told him, "Give me a reason to trust you, and I will. Back up what you're saying and show me that I can believe the things you say, and I will. But I'm not feeling good about this right now." He kept reassuring me and wouldn't get off the phone with me until I said I was ok with it. I mean, if the guy wanted to blow me off, well, I got 50 ways you can do it: don't ever call me again, tell me "you're not ready," "you're seeing someone else," "we're not on a same page. . ." I essentially brought up several of these points and gave him several "outs," and he didn't take any. (He affirmatively disclaimed that he was seeing anyone else.) He never bit on one of them. He just said, "Give me some time, it's going to be fine. Just let me work through some stuff. I can't tell you what I haven't figured out yet." Again, he lives a couple hours away, so there's not pressure to see me again until we're able to work it out with our schedules (which are both conveniently booked for the weekend), so. . .

What do you guys think? Is this guy full of shit?

Last week, we talked on the phone all the time and we had fun on our date. . .we were really cliquing really well, and he was saying some bordering on inappropriately amorous things to me. I want to write him off. . .but I sort of don't think it's time. I know that I can't predict, and neither can you all, so screw the disclaimers. . .just tell me what you think.

No Sex with the Ex

After exchanging some cheerful banter this morning with my ex-boyfriend, he made a comment that he would definitely let me know if advance when he'd be in town so we could do dinner or something and would not wait until the last minute, as he did last time, so I have to use that lame "I'm watching a movie with the new boyfriend-it's not a good time for you to come by" excuse. Ha ha, isn't that funny? I was offended not at the fact that he said this, but that he mistook the cretin of 3 weeks ago as a "boyfriend." I sent him a choicely worded memo correcting him and please do not use the word "boyfriend" as it is a 4 letter word to me, etc. He responds that he's glad to see he got under my skin, as it's one of his favorite things to do, and titled the email "Seen Her's version of 10-minute speed dating" (I had also informed him I had moved on someone else since that time three weeks ago, so I think that's the joke there). I responded that part of the reason he no longer got to get under my clothes was the fact that he got under my skin so much.

He responded to he could come up here right now and get into those panties if he wanted to. Ew! I have a "no sex with the ex" rule. I would NEVER hook up with someone I had REALLY moved past (a little, are-we-or-aren't-we? hook-up doesn't count). It's too complicated. Too many residual feelings, no matter how much you're "over" them. And if there aren't residual feelings, why sleep with him? I'd rather sleep with anyone OR EVERYONE rather than an Ex. It's just a hard and fast dating rule for me. Like, "don't f$#@ where you live" (meaning, don't date people in close social situations, like work or school) and "Don't go where your friends have been." Don't sleep with an ex!! What do you guys think?

PS I responded: "Wanna bet?"

How Far is Charleston, REALLY?

I met him in a bar, for ten minutes, while I was out with someone else. I gave him my number. Things with the other guy went South. He called me after 3 days. Even though he lived about an hour and a half away, he wanted to take me out. We made plans to see each other. We talked for two hours that day, Sunday. I played the game right. I didn't call him again. He called me again on Wednesday, right about the time I was starting to go crazy. I was out with friends, but I called him later. We talked another 2 hours or so. And on Thursday. He even called me Friday before he went out. . .and on his way home, even though it was LATE. We were talking ALL the time. For hours and hours on end. And then he came to take me out. I wasn't sure I remembered really what he looked like, but I knew he was good-looking because I picked him. I stood next to him in the hopes he would talk to me. When he got here, he was good-looking. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, well-dressed. He took me out to a nice dinner. He had made a reservation. We were running late, and when he got here, I said, "Should we call to tell them we're running late?" He said, "I already did." He opened my door for me. He treated me like a lady. We ate, we talked, we joked, and after dinner, we went to a cool, trendy club, where we drank, we talked, we joked. My friends came in for a moment, and I got their approval. April had reminded me that "sometimes you think you like a boy, but you don't" (Mean Girls). I asked her if I liked him. She said yes.

He was going to stay with a friend, but his friend had family in town, so I told him he could stay in my spare bedroom. I thought that even if I wasn't totally comfortable, the fact that I had a spare would make it ok. But I didn't want him to stay there, I wanted him to stay with me. I told him it was ok. We laid around on top of the bed and talked for a while. He said, "What do you want to do?" I said, "I can think of some things, but I'm not going to do it for you." He kissed me, FINALLY. He was on his best behavior. He didn't pressure me. I mean, don't get me wrong: he asked, but I said no. I didn't have to tell him "no" four more times because he was still trying. He asked why not, and I said, "I want to see you again." He said, "you'll see me again." He was a perfect gentleman, but the kind you really really want even more because he's not trying to go too far or push too much. It was the hottest non-sex I've ever had. I hope he wants me more because I said no. Cause I sure want him more because he listened.

I think I want to be in love again. But I know I'm not ready to.

How many more days til I get to see him again?

Women's Biggest Secrets Revealed

Ok, I lifted this off an email forward, but it's one of my faves. Many of you have seen it. Some have not. I love it, and I think it's by and large true. . .are there any of those that you don't think are true or think are especially true. . .?

The woman you sleep with gazes into your eyes and tells you she loves you. And you believe her. You can tell by the way she looks at you, the way she holds you, the way she seems to always know what you want before you do. There are a couple of things in life you just know, and love and this naked woman are two of them. But there are a lot of things you don't know. A woman may give you her body and her heart, but there are parts that she'll never give up. Mysteries only hinted at in a passing sly smile, an inscrutable laugh. These are the secrets of lovers past, hidden fantasies, and unshared longings. A woman's deepest secrets that don't -- and never will -- include you. You're about to sample this hidden knowledge. But like any man who seeks, you'd better be prepared for what you're about to find.

1) My best friend knows everything. She knows all of your vitals -- from the size of your bank account to the size of your other, um, holdings -- and she knows how both compare with those of every other man I've ever dated. I have done a hand-comparison measurement so I can divulge size and girth with a high level of accuracy. When my friend smirks at you knowingly, you are not imagining it. She knows. So just know that she knows, and deal with it. (It's not going to change.) Ask her about me, or chat with her about our relationship, at your own risk. She will tell me. Even -- in fact, especially -- if she promises not to. This is not always a bad thing (e.g., if you happen to be telling her how much you love me). But, in general, remember that she is my confidante first, and yours never.

2) Just looking at your hands can turn me on.

3) When you go away, even for a day, I sleep in your favorite old T-shirt because it sme! lls like you.

4) I'll never tell you exactly how many men I've slept with. No matter how sincere I appeared when I answered your question, chances are I wasn't. As an unscientific guideline, when a woman says she's slept with four men, the real number is actually closer to seven. Her fib is partly intentional (she doesn't want to appear a floozy), but mostly it's sexual amnesia. When a woman wants to pretend an encounter never occurred, she simply scraps the man from her official score sheet. Common excuses that lead to such an omission: The actual sex lasted only a few thrusts; or she was drunk or on the rebound.

5) I fantasized about being with you at least a dozen times before we actually first got naked.

6) I still think about my ex-boyfriends and compare them to you. Mostly you win. Sometimes not.

7) I have Googled your exes.

8) When I'm falling in love with you, I completely lose my appetite.

9) My body really isn't naturally this hairless and smooth all over. But I will never allow you to see any indication whatsoever of all the shaving, tweezing, waxing, exfoliating, and moisturizing that gets it this way.

10) I only appear to have it all together. My true organization (or lack thereof) is revealed in my closet, my makeup bag, my desk files.

11) I have discovered your porn stash and your frequently visited porn Web sites and think the things that turn you on are hilarious.

12) When I say, "I'm ready," I'll need exactly 7 more minutes to get ready. Don't try to cheat the syst! em by showing up 7 minutes later; I will still need an extra 7 minutes.

13) When I say, "I'll meet you in 15 minutes," I mean I will leave in 15 minutes, and thus won't actually arrive for at least 30 (but probably more like 40).

14) You've made me cry more times than you'll ever know.

15) I obsess about when you're going to call me again. The period of time between our first date and your "Thanks for a great night; when can I see you again?" always seems stretched into slow motion. So don't worry about looking too eager. Call. Even if you only wait until noon the day after, it will feel like a lifetime to me. And don't send me an e-mail unless you want me to put you in the figurative trash can along with your message.

16) I want you to talk a little dirty.

17) At the beginning of our relationship, I save all of your voice mails and listen to them (and make my friends listen, too), repeatedly.

18) I might wear granny underwear and purposely not shave my legs because I like you. As crazy as it sounds, the more I like you, the less likely I am to sleep with you on an early date, because I don't want to sabotage having a "proper" relationship with you. So I just might purposely hunt out the ugliest underwear in my drawer and not shave my legs -- all to prevent myself from getting naked with you too soon. Sometimes I might get a little tipsy or carried away, and this plan will backfire.

19) I split the cost of my fashion purchases over two or more credit cards, so you don't notice the gargantuan deficit.

(20) I'm constantly testing you. I observe, analyze, and judge every action, word, gesture, e-mail, and facial _expression. When I ask you if you want to have a threesome, I don't mean it. If you want me to speak to you again, let alone sleep with you after this conversation, the answer should always be, "Why would I want to sleep with another woman when I have you?"

21) I check out your butt every time you leave the room.

22) I need constant indications that you want me around. That's why it's better, for example, to say, "I want you to come away with me for the weekend. Could you come with me?" than to ask, "What are you up to this weekend?"

23) I love it when you get a little jealous. So if you ever see me flirting in front of you with the waiter, the bus driver, or another guy at a party, know I'm actually flirting with you -- through him.

24) Even though I may complain that I don't see y! ou enough (or that you work too hard), I find nothing sexier than watching you put on a suit in the morning and rush off to work.

25) I start fights with you because I'm feeling ignored. I'm trying to force emotion out of you. Don't retreat into your cave; just give me what I want: some attention. And never tell me to "calm down," unless you want to guarantee that I absolutely won't.

26) Even if I insist on paying or splitting the bill on our first date, I'll think you're cheap if you let me.

27) I may find your best friend repulsive, but I've fantasized about sleeping with him. Not because I want him, but because I want a piece of a guy who is so close to you.

28) If I'm going to break up with you, all of my friends know way before you do. I've been talking about it for 2 weeks.

29) When we do break up, I put all photographs of you and mementos of our relationship in a shoe box and store it in my closet. Just in case I get nostalgic. Just in case you come back.

30) I want you to take control in bed. Yes, I have a successful career, I'm financially independent, I live on my own, and I don't need a man to make me happy (in theory). I still want you to pick me up, carry me to the bedroom, and take without asking.

Blowing my "cover" (but not a "cover")

You know what's irritating. When you're not feeling well, and you're trying to explain to your boss, your teacher, your colleagues, your mom, or whomever why you're neglecting your work, going home to work, cutting class, whatever, and you're trying to emphasize that you don't feel well (probably partly consciously, partly because you don't feel well) by speaking quietly, especially from someone like me who is usually very forceful of voice, and the person to whom you're speaking is like, "WHAT?!? I DIDN'T HEAR QUITE WHAT YOU SAID!!" "I'M FUCKING SICK, ASSHOLE, I'LL BE WORKING FROM HOME IF ANYONE NEEDS ME!!!!" I really do feel like ass, but you deaf idiots are blowing my cover by forcing me to re-live it in loud tones every 2 minutes from 1:15 until I leave. That doesn't sound like someone who's not feeling well. It sounds like someone who may not feel well, but more so, is irritated. Which was also true, at the point I had to recapitulate my symptoms every 2 minutes.

Gum Would Be Perfection.

The senior partner in my office of whom I am most afraid just stepped into my office and gave me what I'm sure is a heinous assignment to look through some depositions. This is the type of man who makes me want to wet my pants every time he talks to me. He is 70ish, tall, imposing, a low talker, and he can go from barking orders to subtle mockery to flippant witticism all at the drop of a hat. He is brilliant, and he is intimidating, and I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a ninny. In fact, he gives nicknames to everyone in the office, and I've heard on good authority that mine is "Cheerleader."

So after he gives me this terrible assignment, I respond, "Great." Not no problem, not I'll get on it immediately, but I actually express that I find the prospect "Great." I feel like Chandler Bing in that episode where he's trapped in the ATM vestibule with Jill Goodacre: "Gum would be perfection." Going through box after box of depositions, Mr. Hartridge, would be perfection! Please leave now before I pee my chair. I can't help it, he's terrifying.

Stealth Dating

I have always been the person, in dating situations, to explore the possibility of dating so immediately that I think sometimes, things rev up and then peter out so equally fast. . . I've just never thought I was going to date someone I already knew, cause you start dating someone. . .well, pretty immediately after meeting them if you're going to, that's my theory. I still sort of hang on to this theory. . .at least, you know you're interested from moment 1. (Well, I do anyway.) But I'm getting more patience with "stealth dating," that is, working the magic over weeks, months even. . .being very very casual and just continuing to run into the person, until they finally get the clue and ask you out, or until you've established a level of comfort such that they would ask you out. When you get out of college and you're not seeing your crush every day, such that things are on an exagerated timetable, but you still live in a town approximately the size of a large college, thereby running into the same people all the time. . .but slightly less often. . .this is a viable way of doing things.

Example: I have a crush on a guy at my gym. I saw him out at a bar one night and oh so smoothly suggested that he and I went to the same gym. He didn't jump all over me that night, but we did chat, and as I was leaving the bar (although he was by then talking to someone else), he grabbed my arm, and said, "It was nice talking to you, see you next time." Then, I saw him in Publix a few weeks ago, and he said "I thought that was you!" and flirted outrageously with me. I told him I hadn't seen him in the gym in a while. . .and now, in the last few weeks, I've seen him 3 or 4 times. The first couple times, we just smiled or waved. Then, I plopped myself right on the elliptical trainer next to him one day and we chatted. Last night, we reached a new level. He actually came up to me on his way out, as I was on my elliptical trainer, and struck up a conversation with me. This may not seem like a big deal, but on the stealth dating track, we move a little further each time towards the inevitable date. In addition, it's kind of intimidating to go up and attempt to talk to someone who has their headphones on, and presume they'll pause their music and chat with you. He could've easily just waved or smiled, but no, he chose to TALK to me. He's so going to ask me out. I've been working on this for months (seriously, I think it was mid-April when I saw him out).

Prediction: next step, he either asks me what I'm doing closer to the weekend and tries to feel out whether we might run into each other in a more "phone number exchange friendly" environment, or he finally breaks down and asks me out despite the fact that I am shiny with sweat on an elliptical trainer.

Out of the Woodwork

After getting into a ridiculous, snowballing, drunk dial argument fiasco with the guy I had informed we were only very casually dating, I think I've finally ended that for good. Thank God. Can we say IRRITATING!? His sweetness just stopped outweighing his propensity to get the hell on my nerves. So I finally just gave up and hung up on him. A few moments later, here is the voicemail he leaves me: "Hey it's me. I don't know whether we just got cut off, or you hung up on me, but if you hung up on me. . .don't return this message." Is it really necessary to tell someone who just hung up on you NOT to return the call wherein he tries to determine whether the disconnection was an accident? Is this hilarious to anyone but me?! Most of the people reading this probably heard this story in person, so forgive the rehash. . .

So then, I reignited an old flame on Saturday night. There is nothing between us but friendship, genuine enjoyment of each other's company, and a rollicking good time in the sack, but it was good for me. I needed that this weekend. And I needed to be reminded that when you're with someone cool and compatible with you, talking and interacting is easy, natural, and FUN. I just genuinely like this guy and we get along so well, and the whole time we were together, we were laughing and carrying on. It reminded me why I don't want to be with someone who makes me work too hard or makes things seem too tense. Of course. . .this guy can be a drama queen too, but now that there's no danger of him perceiving that I'm trying to pin him down, it's just fun and casual and we're on the same page. I'm still not Jewish, but we're on the same page ;-)

Then, as if my weekend hadn't been fun enough, I had briefly talked to a guy on Thursday night (while Keith was in another part of the bar. . .yeah, yeah, I'm THAT girl) and given him my number. He lives in Charleston (about 1 1/2 hours away) but he was tall and good-looking and has friends down here. I didn't really harp on it because well. . .guys don't usually call, especially on the basis of a 5 minute conversation. Well, shockingly enough, he called me last night, and wants to take me out this weekend. We talked on the phone for 2 hours! That NEVER happens. He's just a really cool guy and I think we have a lot in common. Again, talking to him was easy, natural and fun. Talking to Keith. . .awkward, stupid, and irritating (at least for the last couple weeks). The call from Charleston Brian just proves, though. . .the less you think about and harp on it, the more out of the woodwork handsome men crawl. . .

And for those who saw me Saturday, remember: "Fine then! I just won't TOUCH anything" (wild arm gesticulations). And remember why you're glad I've never dated any of you. . .when you remember how merciless I am.

Guys just deal with things in different ways I guess

After subjecting myself to a thoroughly irritating night with Boy Toy, in which he said and did everything to make me edgy and uncomfortable (when any one of 8-10 good-looking guys in the happening Thursday night bar around me would have gladly taken me off his hands, I'm sure--life is so unfair, by the way--last week, Keith-free, there was no one. . .this week, all kinds of elgible contenders!!), I finally had to have "the conversation" with him when we got back to my house and went to bed. It went something like this:

Me: Hey don't I just totally get on your nerves sometimes?
Him: Yeah.
Me: But you just like hooking up with me, right?
Him: Yeah.
Me: Ok, so this is pretty casual then right?
Him: (Pause.) Yeah, of course. What brought that on?
Me: You know, I just really don't want to be in a relationship right now. I've too soon out of one. I'm just having fun. I like you. I like hanging out. I like hooking up. But I think that's sort of all this is.
Him: Ok.
Me: I mean, what's your perception?
Him: Yeah. I mean, totally. We're totally in the same place, then. I mean, we've only been dating a few weeks.
Me: It's been more like a month. And I've just gotten the impression that you maybe thought it was going in a direction it wasn't.
Him: Why's that?
Me: Just comments you've made. I just really don't want to be part of a "couple" right now, and I'm comfortable with the ways things are. . .very casual.
Him: Ok, that's cool. Yeah, me too. I mean, I just wouldn't have said anything, so I'm glad we had this conversation.
Me: Well, I just wanted to be clear.
Him: Ok, yeah.
(Few minutes silence.)
Him: So does that mean this is the last time we're going to see each other?
Me: No. I mean, if you want to see me, that's cool. I just don't want to feel like I have to devote a certain number of days to you or see you at particular times.
Him: Yeah, ok. Well, you know sometimes people just say one thing and mean another (astute of him).
Me: No, I'd still like to see you.
Him: Well, you know, if you meet someone else. . .I mean, we shouldn't keep. . .you know. . .just let me know.
Me: Yeah, I would. Of course. You too.

Five minutes later, he was soliciting me for a BJ. Guys just deal with things in different ways I guess.

My So-Far Successful but Doomed to Saturday Setback Diet.

Just because nuts are permissive on the South Beach Diet doesn't mean that you can eat COPIOUS amounts of them, including NOT ONLY peanuts, but Splenda-encrusted pecans that you whipped up at home last night. I CAN'T HELP IT, I left my sugar-free jello at home :-(

On the bright side, I have lost 5 pounds in about the last 2-2 1/2 weeks. (I've only been on the South Beach for the last week of that, though, so I expect the pounds to start falling off faster any day. . .SO LONG AS I PUT DOWN THE NUTS!!!)

I entirely intend to cheat on Saturday for some Golden Enchiladas at Jalisco, though. For those who don't know (my British fan base, mostly) they have this meal at this Mexican place in Atlanta called Jalisco, called Golden Enchiladas. They're basically taquitos (deep-fried corn? tortillas, rolled up around chicken, then smathered in white cheese and sour cream or guacamole if you are so inclined, I am not). Miss Issues, jump in if you can describe them better. It is literally the happiest meal on earth to me. South Beach, for that 4.7 minutes it takes me to scarf those down, be damned. And then, of course, I will go out with my girlfriends and drink. . .again, copiously. . .

A minor diet setback. . .so worth it. But keep in mind, you always weigh about 2 pounds less on days after copious drinking. . .cause you're dehydrated. So 2 pounds extra Golden Enchiladas weight = 2 pounds water lost from dehydration. That equals a 0 net gain in my world, people.

Why my dog keeps me from settling for lazy guys. . .

I read somewhere once: The greatest love is a mother's, then a dog's, then a sweetheart's. Since my mother (God bless her) is a bit psychotic and I can't really get down to the bottom of exactly how she feels for her myriad band of children (but only that she's been very sacrificial for all of our sakes. . .and reminded us of every minute of it ;-) I'll start by examining my pup, Sadie.

Sadie doesn't care what I do or where I go or when I get home, only that I come home and feed her and let her cuddle next to me on the couch, and just in general, that I let her be where I am. She loves a good walk and will occasionally rob food off the coffee table (she's a dog, and no amount of discipline I could enforce would stop such behavior). She will wag her tail at you whenever you use the happy voice, and she barks incessantly when you come home. . .it's partly a command to "Feed me," it's partly excitement, and if it's someone else, it's partly "Is is ok for this person to be in the house, mom?" She's loyal, she's sweet, she's non-judgmental, and as long as I am happy and she is in my favor, all is right in her world. That is a far greater and more loyal love than I've ever experienced from a man, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in all the world.

I guess where I'm going is that the term "love" is thrown around with such reckless heed by so many people, that it makes me question the validity of the whole thing. A few months' dating goes by and you start to say "I love you," and perhaps you do, on some level, but in a romantic relationship at least, a declaration of your amorous feelings bears waiting until it can be backed up by amorous intentions and actions as well. I have had several relationships end where the person professed to still "love" me, but either felt that the relationship wasn't "right," or just didn't make the effort to fuel my happiness, leading me to believe they never would and therefore, they weren't "right" for me. And I've reached a point in my life where I can appreciate that love is a wonderful, fluttery, silly feeling in the pit of your stomach that causes you to forget to eat, or sleep, or work, but that, more deeply, it is behavior modification based on that feeling and directed towards the object of one's affection such as to make him/her as utterly and inexorably happy as is in your power. And continuing to engage in that behavior when that silly amorous "feeling" takes a holiday.

If you're lucky, and with the right person, I don't think that "feeling" ever goes away for too terribly long, and can always be renewed. . .but it sort of insults me that people believe that LOVE is just a feeling. When that fleeting feeling is hidden or momentarily absent, what is left? Love is the right combination of feeling AND action. And although, in my most recent relationship, I had feelings that overrode the strangled voice in my head that kept telling me to "get out," I knew that the object of my love and affection was not "loving" me (read: verb) in a way so as to indicate to me that my happiness was as important to him as his was to me. So I left. Regardless of how strong my FEELINGS were, he was never going to make me happy. Maybe it's because his FEELINGS weren't strong enough. . .or maybe he's a lazy ass. Either way, I deserve more. I deserve the devotion and effort I put forth. But next time someone says "I love you, but. . ." they might as well say "I feel love for you, but I don't want to love you." Read: I have a great feeling from you, but I'm lazy or disinclined to make you happy. I have one component of love (feeling), but not the more important component of love (action). I'll just stick with Sadie.

Boy Toy

Pro:

1. He says REALLY sweet things, like he always tells me he had a good time, and he's glad he got to see me, and thanks for dinner, it was really good.
2. Cute and blonde.
3. Affectionate, always wants to be close to me and cuddle.
4. Helpful. . .or tries to be. Helps when I cook and helps me change the sheets all the time.
5. One in ten things he says will be funny, and he's self-deprecating about all the non-funny things he says. . .unpretentious.
6. Adores me. Knows full well he should not be able to date someone as attractive and accomplished as I am.
7. Is not a total pushover. Doesn't take my crap to the extent that I'm BARELY convinced he does, in fact, have a spine.
8. I'm not afraid he's going to leave. In fact, sometimes, I push him to see if he'll get mad and "break up" with me. He doesn't. He retreatingly apologizes.
9. Surprisingly accomplished in the physical arts for a 24 y/o.
10. Malleable. A pleaser. Shaves on command.
11. Tan.

Con:

1. Can be irritating. Makes dumb jokes. 14-year-old level.
2. Like a 5-year-old sometimes when helping. If I have to stop and find it for you, I might as well get it myself.
3. Teases my dog, talks about her like a) she can't hear us, and b) like she's not my favorite entity. Calls her "dog." She keeps asking me to get rid of him.
4. Doesn't read. Hates Harry Potter. Loves sports. (Read: we have little in common.)
5. I don't see it going anywhere. . .and maybe he does (not sure).
6. It's not that he's not smart. . .just not in the same way that I am.
7. His arms seem disproportionately short for his body. It just looks weird.

PYT

PYT, in the new subtitle to my blog. Who knows what it means? Opinionated, don't answer, I just told you. I'll give a hint. . .early 80s, Michael Jackson, it's a song.

And yes, I am AT LEAST the office PYT in my world, so I reserve the right to refer to myself as a PYT. It is a regular part of my vocabulary, early 80s reference or not.

About Harry Potter, a BOY Wizard

Harry Potter. Whether you love him, hate him, or think he's the anti-Christ (I do mean that quite literally), I saw his new movie on Friday (opening day). I went with my neighbor Jane, her son Harry, he's 9, and oh yes, they are British (how cool am I?). I was very very excited for this installment because the 3rd book was my favorite.

Spoiler alert: for those of you who don't/can't read who plan on seeing the movie, you may want to skip the rest of this blog entry. Before you leave, I will say that it was wonderful, magical, engaging, mesmerizing, and all the things that Harry Potter movies should be. Plus, I will quite inappropriately say that Daniel Radcliffe gets hotter to me every day (whatever, if "lad mags" can countdown til the Olsens turn 18, I can say that I think Daniel Radcliffe is going to be scrumptious as he gets older).

SPOILER: I was a bit disappointed (but I realize this is not fair of me) to not see my favorite part of the book get as emotionally in-depth as I would like. There was a part of this book that literally made me cry. With joy, with heart-wrenchingness, with relief, with an overwhelming sense that my protaganist was going to have a better life than he'd had up until this point. NO REALLY HERE'S THE SPOILER: Sirius Black, falsely accused of being responsible for Harry Potter's parents' murder, is cleared when the young wizards discover a case of mistaken identity. Sirius is also Harry's godfather, and before all hell breaks loose, the real culprit escapes, and Sirius is left to keep running from the law, there is a brief shining moment when it looks as though Harry can go live with Sirius and never ever have to return to the Dursleys again. The Dursleys are gross caricatures of really mean, evil people who treat Harry like utter crap. Although they are not realistic, although I've never TOTALLY bought their unusually poignant brand of evil, I sputtered into tears when I thought that poor Harry would never again have to go back there. 20 pages later, I again cried when I realized that yes, he would have to go back there, because the young wizards did not have the evidence to share with the world that Sirius Black was an innocent man.

I just did not get the sense of that intensely memorable part of the book reflected in the sterile conversation between Harry and Sirius, when he went to leave. I did not sense Harry's disappointment and bitterness. (Incidentally, for those who saw the movie, I felt the same way when he realized that the person he saw conjuring the patronus was not his dad, but him. . .in the book, wasn't he a lot more disappointed at that thought?? In the movie, he giggles in amusement as though he's solved a complex time-travle puzzle.) Harry is a adolescent cauldron of intense and angry emotions, which I just don't think is accurately reflected in the movie. (Nor am I sure I really want it to be. It might ruin Daniel Radcliffe's hotness for me. . .or maybe would increase it. . .Dylan McDermitt on the Practice anyone?? Oh Bobby, you're so hot when you're angry.) But anyway, I don't really expect the movie to delve as deep into those emotional themes as the books do, especially not in the limited time allowed. But for my part, I enjoy the books for that reason.

I was a literature major, and I've read a lot of GREAT books. Few have made me cry. A Tale of Two Cities made me cry. And the Prisoner of Azkaban made me cry. I am sure there are others, but those stick out. Harry Potter may be children's writing, but the ability to evoke that kind of response from an adult reader. . .well, that's powerful literature. Those are powerful characters. That's making someone CARE about your protagonist. J. K. Rowling: you are among my heroes. For making something amazing and for having an imagination big enough to share with the rest of us, and for succeeding in the world of literature, both from a commercial point of view, and from a artistic point of view. I hope to join you on the bookshelf someday (look for me in the Mystery section).

Rename the Blog Contest

No offense taken. . .I had actually thought about doing the same things several times, so it's probably time we each got our own blog ;-) As fun as our run has been!

So, as I've been left with this site, I've been redecorating, as you've seen, and I also want to re-name my newly inherited blog. I would like something to reflect my endearingly shameless and blunt outlook on life, my no holds barred, what-you-see-is-what-you-get attitude. Nothing with expletives in the title (Fugly Slut comes to mind, but maybe that's just because I saw Mean Girls Saturday--anyway, that's an example of an inappropriate Blog Title). Suggestions, anyone?? I have a few ideas but I want to gets others' takes.

The winner of the contest will receive Keith.

Come Visit the New Digs

No offense to Me2inSav, but I've started noticing that she's got enough comments to occupy her whole own blog, and well, so do I. So I'm branching off, and creating a new blog site just for my thoughts.

There are a few things I've realized I would like to do differently (worry less about comments). But still, I'd like to invite you all to visit my new place...

http://internalfocus.blogspot.com

And if she'll still have me, I'll still keep adding my thoughts to this blog from time to time as well. ;) Who am I kidding? Like I could stop myself from commenting if I tried to!

Drunk Dial By Proxy?

Ok, so I just got a call from the friend of the jerk, who is my friend from law school. He's out, he's drunk, he's trying to get me to come out. I am on my way to bed instead. So, I'm thinking he's with some law school people, so I ask, "Who all's with you?" Oh yeah, jerk is with him. Jerk = Mr. Not on the Same Page. . .did I just get a drunk dial by proxy? Anyway, I didn't take him up on it, and I told him I'd be out tomorrow, and I was instructed to give him an "f--ing call." Alrighty then.

Is she/he a light or just a mirror?

I had the most interesting conversation over graham crackers and peanut butter (and oreos for Cody) after we returned from drinking last night. We got to talking about relationships, and he was saying that he thought he could probably be just about happy with any woman because he gave and gave and gave so much that relationships were just naturally good with him, because he did everything he was supposed to do to make them "happy." But so then, he really just wondered, well, is that all there is? And where would he ever find a woman who reciprocated that same level of devotion? And were there really any fireworks to a relationship or did you just WORK to make it last?

I responded that I was the type of person who gave and gave and gave, and thus, ended up with lazy guys (unlike him) who weren't willing to do the work to make me feel happy and romanced. So, yes, there are women who are capable of giving and giving and giving, in reciprocal devotion to their mates. And that no, I didn't think you just woke up every day fairy tale in love with someone, but that when you knew someone was worth it in the long run, you just sucked it up, and stuck by them even when they infuriate you and you want to kill them. And that fairy-tale heartbeats and romance would ebb and flow, as is natural over time. So yes, true love is a wonderful feeling, but yes, it also takes work. It's not JUST a feeling. (So sayeth the me2.)

But he came up with the greatest analogy. He said, "You know, it's like I'm a light, giving and giving off more and more light, and the other person is a mirror, reflecting it back, and it's good as long as she is able to do so. . .but if my light, devotion, energy ever starts to dim, and that person then dims too. . .you know they're just a mirror. But you need someone who is a light too, and gives off their own devotion and energy and adoration, for the time when you're not as strong. . .you don't want to have your light dim and then realize they had no source of their own, that they were just reflecting YOU back."

I think this is brilliant. It sums it up. It is similar to a conversatoin that Me and I had about my Ex-Ex-Boyfriend. That he wanted to please so much and so he did, but then when he started to wane, I couldn't understand why he wasn't able to love me as much as before. . .because I think maybe he was just reflecting me and my energy and love from the beginning, so when things got tough and I got frustrated. . .well, he was just a mirror, reflecting my love. I need a light. I need something that gives off love on its own.

This Guy's Going to be Tough to Get Rid Of

So I ignored Keith's call last night, call him back late tonight, and he immediately sort of asks me,
"Well didn't I call you yesterday?"
"Yeah. It was late."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I didn't think it was too late."
"Yeah, it wasn't. I was just on my way to bed."
"Did you just not answer?" (Busted.)
After him establishing that this is in fact what I had done, not answered, I say, "Do you know why I didn't answer?? I was pissed off."
"Aha! I knew it!" he replies.

So we get into this discussion about how ignorant he sounded, how uncalled for his comment was, and how distasteful I found it; I did not call him ignorant, in fact, conceded that I think he's very intelligent, which is why the comment even more seemed to come out of left field. He insists he was joking, and (keep in mind, I haven't revealed the true source of my sensitivity on this issue) that he has nothing against gay people, he was just making a ignorant, backwoods-redneck-mocking sort of joke. . .in short, he was trying to sound ignorant. . .to be funny. . .I didn't buy it at first, but after a 15 minute conversation about it, I sort of did. I really think he was joking. I really think he was trying to sound ignorant. . .to be funny. . .as not funny as I found that. . .I think he probably does have some latent insecurities about homosexuals, most straight men do, but all in all, I think his comment. . .like him. . .was relatively innocuous.

Well, there's that, and he kissed my ass with apologies and promised to never make off-color comments in front of me again. And I said, "Keith that's not the point. I don't know that I'd want to date someone who would make them at all" (still annoyed and a bit belligerant, early in the conversation). At first he replied, "Well I don't know that I want to date someone who can't take a joke." Dead silence (this is it, we're breaking up, YES!). But then, he back-peddles. . ."Look, I'm sorry, I won't do it again. . ." for the next 10 minutes. . .then, of course, he tells me about the one gay guy he ever knew and he was damn cool, etc. etc. I did end up telling him about my brothers, but then suggested that while that undoubtedly influenced my beliefs, I am still a flaming liberal and proud of it, towards all minority and socially disfavored groups. So watch it buddy.

Oh, God, I think Sadie is finally throwing up that package of Nutter Butters from Saturday, I can hear her wretching. . .

Point being. . .I tried to break up with him. I suggested it. Then all of a sudden, it turned into a conversation about how sorry he was, how he would be more careful, and he's (yes, he said this) "glad we had this conversation now, I mean, we just starting seeing each other and there's going to be stuff we don't know about each other. . ." Gag me with a spoon. 2 weeks, tops. Back on Keithwatch. Am I evil for being so blase about this while he's clearly not??

Dedicated to Huh?

Dear Huh?,

Me2inSav is very sorry to have run you off. She let her curiosity get the better of her, but really, she didn't want you to go away. And neither do I. We miss your bluntness and occasional insight. ;).

Please come back. Comment.

P.S. We know you're still reading. We can see when you log in... Big sisters are watching. ;)

NSM

Things I would not do if I were not sitting alone at my desk

1) Eat my salad in so few gulps that lettuce protrudes, scavenger-like, from my mouth in between hurried bites.

2) When done, use my finger to lick parmesan cheese off the side of the salad bowl where it is pasted by salad dressing.

3) Floss

4) Surf for Porn (ha ha, just kidding. . .or not).

5) Read the People Magazine I just bought at CVS to hear America sound off on the shocking and distasteful reality show "The Swan". . .to see if I want to Tivo it next season.

6) Sit and pontificate about why I never go in the CVS on Waters because each visit inspires in me a dramatic urge to throw my money on the counter (for the inevitable one or two items I wish to purchase) and barrel out of the store, so as not to get caught in the lazy, lazy, slow, ridiculous time and intelligence warp that is the Waters Ave. CVS.

Hooray for Chic-fil-A

So the boyfriend is off for two weeks to the G8 Conference. For those who don't know, he's in the Army Reserves and will be part of the crowd control, homeland defense team guarding the conference.

In any case, last night was sort of a goodbye. So we went out with his best friend for margaritas. I got tipsy, but not full-on drunk. Had maybe 2 1/2 to 3 margaritas.

So here's the perplexing thing, this morning I felt wretched. Dehydrated. Hung over. Not good....

UNTIL I stopped at my local Chic-fil-A and picked up a chicken biscuit AND a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit. Yes, OINK, OINK. I'm a pig. Fine. Judge all you like. Because I am here to tell you that the aforementioned TWO biscuits were exactly what my stomach needed to get over last night's margaritas. I've never felt so good in all my life.

Hooray for Chic-fil-A!

Things that irritate me today...

1. Not having a secretary to handle the admin stuff, but knowing I'm still being judged by my billable time. [Note: Admin functions are not billable]

2. The intern who talks incessantly. Also detracting from my billable time.

3. My obsession with blogs, leading me to check and recheck them every 1/2 hour. Also detracting from my billable time.

4. My bangs being just long enough to constantly be in my eyes. At times, detracting from my productive, billable time.

5. The sky-rocketing price of gasoline, and the fact that my new gas-guzzling SUV costs $37.00 to fill up, a number which keeps growing with each trip to the gas station.

6. The mysterious stains that always seem to appear on my newly dry-cleaned suits the first time I wear them.

7. The fact that certain men always think that they are under more stress than women; even women with equally important jobs; like my job as a lawyer could somehow never be as stressful [god forbid MORE stressful] because I am female. Perhaps my ovaries are supposed to absorb the stress. Or maybe men just think having breasts would be so exciting that they wouldn't care about job stress.

I'm not sure what it is, but apparently I don't work as hard, am not as burdened with stress and my career simply because I am a woman... and yes, my bitterness is also detracting from my billable time as I vent to the blog.

Hasn't sunk in...

In the midst of my trial last week, my mother calls to tell me that she's found an amazing loan program for me. 4% interest on a 5/1 arm, with the loan company paying up to $5000 in closing costs. It was just too good of a program NOT to buy something this weekend. So, I set off on Saturday with the boyfriend and the realtor to find something. Anything. And on house #9, I struck gold.

It's an adorable 2 bedroom, 1 bath bungalow. Built in 1950. Very small, but very adorable. All hardwood floors except for the tiled kitchen and bath. A beautiful fenced yard. Big trees. A nice wooden deck and a stone patio below that. It's just absolutely the cutest house you've ever seen.

And it's mine. Or at least, it will be mine as of June 30th.

I can't wait to paint, decorate, garden, and all the other fun piddling around that comes with owning a home. I am going to have to buy a lawn mower. A grill. New furniture, and perhaps a hammock. Some have suggested a hot tub even.

It hasn't fully sunk in yet just what an exciting, important, big step this is... but I do feel a little more grown-up, a little more stable suddenly.

Hello my name is Ignorant.

Ok, so I knew Keith wasn't a winner (read "I want my bed back."), I just didn't know he was so much of a loser. I am completely unattracted to him at all now. Is it RQOTD that had the post about what's a dealbreaker for you? One of my answers was something like, "Not tolerant of homosexuality. I got gay brothers, I can't be putting up with that crap. I'm not asking you to sleep with them, just with me."

Well, listen to what the infantile, I'm-just-trying-to-sound-cool-but-I'm-really-unnecessarily-aggressive, obnoxious, food-in-his-mouth-and-he-doesn't-even-know-it Keith said yesterday. He said he had to shave before he showered, and I said, “I thought you were supposed to shave after you showered, cause the hot water softens up the hair, that’s what they say on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy,” to which he replied, “Well, they’re queer, what the f$#@ do they know??”

It was the tone as much as the comment. I responded, "Oh well, that's real mature." I'm done with this tool. Ignorant and intolerant are not high on my list of qualities in a man, I don't care how much of a puppy dog he is. Now, the question is, do I take the glee in telling him exactly what an idiot he is and how completely reprehensible I find his behavior (not because he'll change his narrow little mind, but just to make him realize that he should watch his F#@$ING mouth, you never know who you're talking to) or do I just say, "It's not you, it's me."