Monday, May 7, 2012

Awake At Stupid O'Clock



(yes, those are actually my vitamins/enzymes)
Today I started Nisa's Boot Camp. My ass was up at 5am (ok, 5:15am) and I was dressed, with my face washed, & no make up (that was scary to me this time of year with such a pale complexion). I took all my vitamins & enzymes... and took some Dramamine to help if I got dizzy. I drank 1/2 a cup of tea (can't really "chug" hot tea...) , and was at the first location (they do "boot camp" all over the island, each day is a different location) by 5:50am.

Owen Park, 6am... I was ready. My outta shape ass was totally ready. I just want to get this ball rolling. I will be going 5 days a week, even if one of those days is my "day off" at work... and even if I'm going through an annoyingly hellish shark week. (Can I just say that every month during shark week I google "elective ovary removal" costs...)... did I mention yet that today is my day off, and it's currently shark week? No? Well, it is. :/

"Owen Park"
We all (there was about 12 of us I think) started out marching up and down an incline that is a skateboarder's wet dream. Some of us walked, some ran, some even did it backwards or sideways. I just kept walking in even quick strides as I tried to remain as fully erect as possible while going "up."  You ever notice that? When walking up a steep incline you begin to walk totally hunched over? No? Just me?

At the base Nisa was making sure that all the proper paperwork was filled out. There was even a page where you were asked if, for the month, you were willing to give up a bunch of things. Coffee, sugar, meat, alcohol...  For real, the list was waaay long, but other than the "don't eat meat" part... I was 100% willing to agree to everything else. I already steer clear of sugar, wheat/grains, most dairy, gluten, legumes....and booze. (BTW, legumes weren't on the list, but here is why I don't eat them.)

I even quit smoking. Yup, Feb 21st 2012 I had my last cigarette. I intend to remain smoke free too. There is a small sense of pride in being able to say that after 25 years of at least a pack a day I quit for good. I haven't cheated once. Most people I know that say they've quit still smoke every now & again. I do not want to be that person.

The way I see it, if I can quit smoking (& I really miss it, I was SO GOOD at it! I still want one ALL the time) then I can get up retardedly early every day of the week and work my ass off at getting even healthier.

I don't really have a choice. Well, I do have a choice, I could let myself fall apart, and I could chose to be okay with the 15+ lbs that appeared after I quit smoking (no joke, in under two months) Your metabolism totally just stops. Not pauses, fucking STOPS. Seriously, I went days where I lived on nothing but ice water and baby carrots... still couldn't fit into my jeans without muffin top spilling over. Certain pairs wouldn't even zip without me having to lay down and struggle like it was the 70's.

Probably looks like this:



But when weight like that comes on so quickly, & you feel repulsive in your own skin, it feels like, and feels like it looks like, this:












I'm not ashamed, in fact I am proud of myself that I not only quit smoking for good, but am doing as much as I can to make, & keep, myself healthy. Anyone that has a snarky comment about the 15+ lbs is just an insecure douchenozzle. It's not just a battle, it's an all out war, but I'm gonna fucking win.

So, yeah as I was saying, I don't really have a choice. The doctors have decided to tell me I have MS (that's what the issue I have had with my eyes is apparently a precursor to). I have decided they are out of their tree and I will now be doing EVERYTHING I possibly can to get even healthier & to stay healthy. I've already had 1 MRI, I'm due for a 2nd one- a spinal MRI- soon... but the hopo here totally sucks and I've been kept waiting for over two months now. The first MRI did indeed show lesions on my brain... but depending on which medical journal you research, it could mean many things. Bottom line though is this: MS stands for Multiple Sclerosis. Multiple Sclerosis literally translates to "multiple lesions"... which is what I have on my brain. I dunno about you, but man I feel special. Do YOU have a whole bunch of lesions on YOUR brain? No? Well neenerneenerneener to you! (for real though, I hope NONE of you go through the hell I am currently going through.)

Between you and me, I must admit, the idea of having an autoimmune disease like MS scares the shit out of me. I do know that every single case is different, and there is a much better chance of living a "normal" healthy life if you are vigilant about living a very healthy life. I also know that deep down I truly believe it is Lyme disease.  More on that some other time. (Plus, if you have questions... google exists for a reason, not trying to be rude... have just had it up to my semi-blurry eyeballs with the whole question/answer thing.)



My bottom line: I very rarely drink as it is, I've been Paleo since Feb 2011, and now I am even stricter about it, I am working out a minimum of 5 days a week, I go to bed at a reasonable hour, and I quit smoking. (Man, I just sound like freakin' oodles of fun, don't I?!)


Right, so, that's me currently, kinda... just wait'll you hear about some of the dates I've been on. I only have, maybe, one day a week where I can set time aside to write... so this'll take a while. I AM still writing posts, but I just haven't been posting them.


PS. On the off chance you think I'd lose my sense of humor over all this bullshit... here's a picture of me a week ago today that I took just s0 a friend of mine could see my most excellent t-shirt :)

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

The Little Things

With all the bullshit I have been dealing with this winter, it really is the little things that put the biggest smiles on my face. Every single time (seriously EVERY TIME) that I say "I love my job" out loud, I tend to look over my shoulder to see who the hell would say such a crazy thing, &/or who has managed to throw their voice and make it sound like me. It's just so strange to love my job... and I know I'm not the only person to think that. Basically every person I know/meet that hears me say "I love my job" gets the strangest look in their eyes. It's like I just said "my dog can read....Shakespeare.... aloud."

But today I found myself giggling at random (which has been VERY rare this winter) and thought I'd share one of the sources of the giggles....

Yet more proof my job (& boss/friend) at the motorcycle shop kicks ass:

(me:green, bossman:white)


 Just for the record... Pandora is what was playing Katy Perry, not me.... but I'll admit it... I kinda do like her...


Oh... and playing with your fruit is fun too... Meet Mr. Cutie (you've had those "cuties" right? Mini oranges with no seeds?... FANTASTIC wee snacks.... 'cept when they try to run away :)

Monday, March 26, 2012

100 words: The Day Before Yesterday

My future has been rendered null and void, because my past has been erased. All hopes, all dreams: gone. I can no longer listen to a song on the radio from "before," it will remind me of what I was once silly enough to long for. Sadly there are people categorized like this as well. They are now dangerous to me, unable to understand what is happening. Fuck, I can hardly understand it. All I am aware of now is how badly I want tomorrow to be just like yesterday...,and the knowledge that no promises will ever be kept again.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Double You Tee Eff!

I'm not sure where to start with this, but I guess the beginning is as good a place as any.

On Sunday the 4th of December I went to the grocery store & I noticed I was having a hell of a time reading labels....and I am a true label reader. I won't buy much of anything that has ingredients I can't spell/pronounce. Personally I like that rule. (yes, there is a reason I just told you that.. wait for it...) Anyway... I was just pulling into my driveway when I heard the "James Bond" theme start up. I wasn't having "a moment"... that's the ringtone on my cell phone. It was my father. I couldn't get to my phone in time, so I parked my car, pulled the phone out and called him back. We talk so infrequently these days that I felt I should return the call immediately.

We spoke for a few moments, and then I asked him if I could call him back after I brought the groceries in and put them away. He sounded like he just wanted to chat about nothing in particular, so we hung up, I unloaded the car, put away the groceries, and about 15 minutes later I called him back.


After the small talk, which included me telling him what I had been doing for work since spring (Woah! Had it REALLY been that long since we spoke?!) he begins to tell me about some very personal issues, along with a surgery he had just had to help. I was sitting there with "TMI!!!...TMI!!!....TMI!!!..." flashing through my brain as if it were on a bright neon digital scroll whooshing by.

TMI!!! ....TMI!!!...TMI!!!....TMI!!! ....TMI!!!...TMI!!!....TMI!!! ....TMI!!!...TMI!!!....TMI!!! ....TMI!!!...TMI!!!....


Eventually I stood up to go get something to drink while he was telling me things about his surgery that a father really wouldn't normally tell his daughter... and then he paused...


... and then he said "they found something while they were in there..."


I wanted SO badly to hear something ridiculous like "remember that earing you lost at dinner here that one night? Found it!".... but I knew what was coming... I knew...


...and when the word "cancer" came out of his mouth I screamed a whole slew of swear words, and began to dry heave. The housemate, Colin, was standing about 3' away and was stopped dead in his tracks in those moments. He just stood and watched me, no idea idea what was going on, or what to do.

My father went on to tell me that of all the cancers out there, this was one of the most curable, but there was a problem. Because of the surgery he had just had, the majority of the treatments couldn't be used. Not till he healed. I'd also like to add that Dr. SHIT HEAD told my father that one of his options was to just "wait it out." Seriously, Dr. SHIT HEAD basically told my father 'well, you're gettin' up there, why bother?' My father, of couse, was like "you've never met my young wife have you? I'm one year younger than her mother. She'd be very upset." (Dr SHIT HEAD: 0, Dad: 1 !!!)


When we finally hung up, I sent a txt to my mother, who was away with her hubby at the house in NJ, that said "Dad has cancer."


A few txts were exchanged, and I resigned myself to sitting in silence for the rest of the night trying to figure out how my very fit, über healthy father could have cancer.


On Monday I went to the dentist... who, I might add, is not covered by my health care. (Awesome)... so when they told me they found a small cavity I was like "let's just let it ride? ok? I've got bigger fish to fry." I had no idea that an hour later I would be even more correct.


When I left the dentist I decided to swing by my eye doctors, convinced I had cataracts... and after polling a bunch of friends with any sort of experience with cataracts, was borderline elated to get things sorted.



Let's back track for a moment here though. Do you remember a year ago when I was having weird issues with one of my eyes? 
Well... I  can't honestly say it got better, if anything I believe I just got really used to it.


Just over two weeks ago I started to notice it was more pronounced than it had been since about March, and since I finally had health insurance I knew I needed to go see my eye doctor here. Turns out eye doctors are ALSO (tell me again what exactly I'm paying for?) not covered by my health insurance. (Grrrrrr!) So I let it ride for a bit. Yet on Monday December 5th I walked into my eye doctors, ready to pay for whatever tests needed to be run, and get this over with.

What I got instead was "you don't have cataracts," and a diagnosis of something called retrobulbar optic neuritis, in BOTH eyes. I did not know what it meant, but I sure as hell didn't think it would be what I was soon to find out it was.

When my eye doctor told me I would need to get an MRI.. well that's when the panic set in. Once I got home and typed it into google... well, let's just say my life has been changed.

After fighting my health care (I made them my bitch!) and demanding they pay for the tests that need to be run, I found a primary care physician, and now have an appointment day after tomorrow, on Tuesday the 20th of December for an MRI ... and from there I will have to go see the eye specialists at Mass General up in Boston.

Now if I could just get people to stop sending me links to web sites about retrobulbar optic neuritis I might sleep through the night... might.... 'cause to have things like the following playing in my head like some sort of fucked up personal horror movie is not helping...

"Between 20% and 40% of the 25,000 people who develop optic neuritis in the United States each year will develop multiple sclerosis within 10 years."

"In some cases, if the optic nerve is permanently damaged, it can lead to blindness."

"Because the underlying cause of retrobulbar neuritis is often unknown, there is no way to prevent it."

etc...etc...etc.....

As it stands, I can not really even see my computer screen as I type, my eye sight is shot,  and I have said repeatedly, & in complete honesty (truly serious about this)... if permantent blindness is where I am headed... I will be checking out. I could live with out sound, taste, smell, even speech... but with no sight... can't do it.


It's just killing me that I don't want to talk to my father about this, the guy has enough to worry about! He has fucking cancer! They (whoever the fuck "they" are) say "it" comes in threes, good or bad... well I found  #1 & #2 .... what could possibly be next?

Don't answer that, I honestly don't want to know.

MRI is tomorrow, and all I am going to focus on (no pun intended) is the fact that I want to get to Scotland for my birthday in January. I want a happy memory, all the others have faded these days.







*please ignore typos... I really can't freakin' see what I'm doing. A sentence like "Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow" looks like "Mar   h    li    la  who   feec        te  as     " to me right now.*

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Monday, November 21, 2011

Just Say "NO!" To Turkey!


The way we normally celebrate Thanksgiving in this house has apparently had a big ol' honkin' wrench thrown in the plans...

Colin decided to tell me that he was hoping we (& by "we" he means ME, since that guy can't cook anything that doesn't say "heat on high for 3 minutes" and have a Cumberland Farms label on it) could go more traditional for Thanksgiving... which means he tried to convince me to cook a turkey (which I don't like), make stuffing (which I don't eat), cranberry sauce (which I won't eat), and then went off on a drunken tangent about side dishes he'd like to have. I told him I wasn't a fan of turkey, I refused to cook one, and the best he'll get out of me is some chicken I'll throw in a crockpot. Pretty sure he accepted it since he really didn't have any other choice in the matter.


This year however, if/when asked what I am thankful for.... I will have a big long list. At the top of it will still be my Thanksgiving LAST year. A Thanksgiving I spent in a country that doesn't even celebrate that holiday (& understandably so, since we did kinda give them the big ol' "Peace out! Chumps!"... then came here to America to steal this country...)

I will also be thankful for :

my job



my kick ass new faux fur throw on my bed (even if it sheds on me like a cat in late spring),



the killer boots I just scored that are actually tall enough for my long ass stems (even if they put me at 6'2)

the dress I fell in love with in blue, and found in orange (♥) too (even if the majority of people hate orange, I LOVE it)...


the new(to me) car I just got (& will be obsessed with for quite a while),



and the fact that I am finally able to stop sneering at my reflection in the mirror most days... trust me, that's a big one.... I figure I'm less than 2 months from 40 (*gasp!* I know!)
11/11/11... no make up, no nothin'... early morning taking the beast out for her morning... well.. you know... :)

... so I had better just suck it up and accept things as they are, and If I can do that, and other people can not? Um... fuck them! I'm (almost) 40! I'm fun! & I still get carded... and I will always find wearing devil horns to be funny.....



Friday, November 18, 2011

New, To Me!

Ok.. I finally gave up on my POS Ford Exploder... w/ or w/out the extra awesome wonky bumper I made out of aluminum energy drink cans and duct tape to replace the "illegal" one filled with rotted rust holes (which, I might add TOTALLY passed inspection the following day.)
 It was time to find a new (to me) car.

This summer (pretty sure it was August) I had been at the health food store next door grabbing something to cook at work for breakfast (I really can not stress enough how cool it is to have a gourmet kitchen on the premises)... and I noticed a car, a model I was not familiar with... but kinda instantly fell in love with. By the time I had made it back onto the deck at work I was just standing there staring at it.

I HAD to know what it was... so I just dropped my groceries and walked back over to it. On my way over the owner was getting in the car.... I just walked right up to his window, put on my best "I swear I'm not nutters" face, smiled, and said "Hi! What IS this?"


Turned out he was friendly too, and he smiled back and told me, "a 1969 Jeepster Commando."

I informed him of my instant love for the car, and he then told me it was for sale! (!!!!)

We exchanged cards & numbers... and 24 hours later I had lost his number. :(
I just figured it was one of those "if it was meant to be..." things, and that clearly it wasn't meant to be.

Jump ahead to about two weeks ago, on my day off, and I had to stop by work to get a number off the computer. Guess who was there talking to my boss?! Only I didn't recognize him at first. When he smiled at me I had smiled back thinking he was one of the friendly customers we get at our shop, and I must have met him this summer. I should add the fact that he is ridiculously handsome, so I was kinda shocked that I didn't remember exactly who he was in that moment.

Once inside at the computer he and one of my bosses walk in, and the guy says to me "Do you remember me?" ... and my brain went into turbo flashback mode (pretty sure there were flames as well as a sonic boom type *whoooosh*) and I suddenly remember exactly who he was.

"I do, and I was always bummed that I lost your number. I loved your car."

"I still have it, it's still for sale."

We exchanged numbers again. This time I wrote his number down in like 8 different places. He came back the next day, and we talked some more... and then a few days later... I got super serious about that Commando.

TODAY he drove it over to me at work, and one friend that works at a repair/tire shop just one street over let me bring it by and put it on a lift. THEN a very good friend, whose opinion I value so much, showed up to check things out too... and to top it off, my mechanic, the guy that has worked on my Exploder for YEARS showed up to help me.
There were others around that knew the ins & outs of classic cars... and they offered help, opinions, and useful information too.


At one point, standing under the Commando, I looked out at all these amazing people, who I might add- NOT ONCE treated me like a stupid girl who doesn't know cars, and promised them loudly "you are all SOOO getting fresh baked cookies!"

I had prepared a list of questions for the owner (& asked many of them when it was just the two of us) ... and I felt a silly satisfaction in hearing the other guys there ask those very same (albeit worded differently) questions. I had a few more questions for the owner like "is there a lien on the car?" which elicited audible grunts of approval for such a savvy question from the crew of awesome that was inspecting the car like it was an alien spaceship and this was Area 51.

As the car was brought down in the lift my mechanic, Louis- his name is Louis- had a very stoic look on his face and asked me to step outside with him... I was worried, and made a joke about how we were "going outside to canoodle."

Once outside his face lit up like Whoville when the Grinch brought all the stuff back, and he told me the truth. He told me how much certain things would cost to get fixed; what could go a while w/out fixing; why I was getting a GREAT deal... and that if I didn't want it he knew a guy that would come there immediately and snatch it up. That was enough for me!

Everyone else said the same thing...

Smiling I went to the owner and said, as calmly as I could, "I want this car."

We went back to my shop, sat down & talked about it... then I took it for a wee spin... and I was soooo sold!

This evening we spoke on the phone as he was feeding his daughter some dinner... and finalized the deal.

I am so freakin' happy about all this it's ridiculous! There are so many more cool aspects to this story... though I do wonder if they are only cool to me....

but I just wanted to get to the part where I show you MY BRAND NEW (to me) 1969 JEEPSTER COMMANDO!!!!!
...and my goofy ass... in 40˚ weather, with a serious wind... & still in flip flops...just about as happy as a girl could be (which is why I don't really care that it's a totally unflattering picture and I look like a 'tard... I'M HAPPY!!!)

Friday, October 21, 2011

The Sounds Of Silence

Should your average person be able to witness a typical night in my home, they might think it was deathly quiet, and nothing of consequence .... but I don't think they'd hear what I hear every night before I try to go to sleep....

It begins with the *dull rolling* sound of a can as it slides across the ridged bottom of the refrigerator drawer ...
the metallic *pop* followed by a muted *fizz* as the tab top is pulled back and pushed in and *carbonation is released* ...
the sloppy resonance of the first sip, so as to save any of the liquid that may have escaped when the top was popped...
the *tinny crunch* sound as a dent is placed in the can ...
shortly thereafter the *clink* of the tall shot glass as it's retrieved from the top shelf above the sink ...
the *muted ping* of the glass placed on the wood surface of the counter in preparation ...
the released *whoosh* of frozen air as the freezer door is opened ....
the dull *clank* of the glass bottle as it's taken from the shelf in the door ...
the *jingling* sound made as the cap is twisted off ...
the *thin liquid sound* as it fills the shot glass ...
the crossover *shuffle step* as equilibrium is almost lost - then righted as the shot is taken in one *gulp* ...
the *clank* of the glass being placed to the left of the sink to lay in wait for the next time ...
the sound of *footsteps* towards the front door where the cigarettes are kept ...
the *scratch* of the thin cardboard as the top is slid back and a cigarette is removed ....
the *flick* or two of a lighter ...
the *muted crackle* of ignition as the first drag is taken ....
another *stumble* and then a *shuffle step* to remain upright ...
the *click* of the screen door latch as the door *slides* open across the flooring, followed by *slow steps* out onto the wooden porch ...
*mumbling* is often heard, sometimes it's unclear if it's to himself, or if he's on his phone ...
then SILENCE.... brief moments of silence follow ...
then more *uncertain steps* along the wooden deck leading back to the front door ...
the screen door latch *clicks* open ...
there is an *almost noisy abridged falter in balance* .....
sometimes a *thunk* or a *thud* ....
the door fully opens with a *swish* across the floor ...
*steps* committed to memory pilot him to back to the refrigerator ....
and then the *dull rolling* sound of the can as it slides across the ridged bottom of the refrigerator drawer ...
the metallic *pop* followed by a muted *fizz* as the tab top is pulled back and pushed in and *carbonation is released*.......
ad nauseam.......

I often wonder if anyone really knows, or for that matter even cares (& I am not even talking about just me) what the main cause of my insomnia is, or why I rarely want to have a drink, or am often sickened by those that try in vain to carry on with "normality" when they are drunk and slurring their words. Maybe it might explain why I am open to always having the TV on as a sound buffer?

Because on the nights I strive for silence my efforts are fruitless.... instead I get another night of sadness, worry, and the conscious knowledge that it's useless.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Words Crack Me Up

I kid you not, these really are correct terms for various groups of animals... and they crack me up... they also made me think that somehow they'd make a great kids poem... so I wrote one...


COLLECTIVE

I'm leaving' this place,
and I'm taking with me
a mob of kangaroos
and a grist of bees.

There will be a shrewdness of apes,
And a flange of baboons;
A smack of jellyfish
And volley of loons.

Maybe a husk of rabbits
And a mischief of rats,
How about a pace of donkeys,
And a kindle of cats?

I'm including a bevy of otters,
And an exaltation of larks;
A crash of rhinoceroses,
And a shiver of sharks.

Along for the ride
I'll have a sneak of weasels
A dray of squirrels,
And a convocation of eagles.

Best not to forget
The passel of hogs,
Muster of peacocks,
Or army of frogs…

As well as the herd of gnus, giraffes,
Elks, and seals;
Gaze of raccoons, clutch of chickens,
Clash of bucks, and swarm of eels.

If there is still room, I'll include
More of "team herd,"
There are many of them,
Or haven't you heard?

(Chinchilla, moose, walrus, & horse
Antelope, zebra, llama, & boar)

I must find a place
For the trip of sheep,
Clutter of cats,
And wedge of geese.

The parliament of owls
And brace of bucks,
Passel of possum
And raft of ducks.

There are so many more
I'd take in one fell swoop,
But I'm worried about cleaning up
All the animal poop.

Monday, September 26, 2011

(Not Exactly 50) First Dates: Dates Two & Three


Date #2 was just plain ridiculous. We met up on the mainland for lunch, his idea.  He was new to the Cape and looking to meet new people.... I figured he'd be interesting. He and I had both lived in multiple locations that were eerily similar. At one point we discovered that we lived only two blocks away from each other in Chicago... in TWO different locations (Roscoe Village & Rogers Park).

Silly me thought this might bode well for us. Thinking we had some things in common that not a lot of others I had met had. We even liked a lot of the same music, the same books, and he listed two of my all time favorite movies as his top two ("Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead" & "The Big Chill")... alas, that is where the similarities ended.


Let me backtrack for a moment here and say that I am VERY upfront about my height. I am also quite open about not being interested in someone significantly shorter than I am. I realize that on line most guys tend to add an inch or two to their height. Basically a 5'8 guy will say he's 5'10, a 5'9 guy will say he's 5'11, a 5'10 guy will say he's 6'....this goes on and on (always adding an inch or two) till they are about 6'1.

THIS guy said he was 6'3. Let me assure all of you, he was not 6'3. He was not even 5'8 to be honest. I could see clear over his head. Awkwaaaard.

Upon meeting in person:
Him: So, I guess you're wondering why I lied a little about my height?
Me: A little?
Him: You just seemed so cool and pretty, I really wanted the chance to meet you in person.
Me: I'm almost flattered, but I really don't appreciate being lied to.
Him: You wouldn't have gone on this date with me if you knew how tall I was.
Me: Well, to be fair, I probably wouldn't have if it were based on stats alone, but I thought you were kinda great, THAT supersedes the height thing every time.
Him: Yeah? (*smiles*) So where would you like to go for lunch?
(*ferry boat behind me is 2 minutes from leaving to go back to the island*)
Me: My place.
Him: Huh?
Me: Lying to me tops the list of why I wouldn't go on a date with you. Well done. You made it to the top.

...and I spun on my heels (not high heels, just my actual heels since I was in flat shoes) and walked back to the ferry boat, boarded it, and pulled the newspaper I had been reading on the way over back out of my purse, took a pen out... and before we docked on the Vineyard I had finished the crossword puzzle.

Three hours later I got a text message from him that just said "I'm sorry."

All I could think was "yeah, me too."

An hour or so after that I got a message from someone else. Not a text message, an actual message on the on line dating site I was currently tryin' out.

The guy was witty. He made some random obscure references that were right up my alley, and lo and behold, homeboy was 6'5. Well, that's what he claimed his height was at least.

I know I seem to say it a lot, and height is NOT the most important thing to me, but lying about it is lame, and I am so sick of feeling like "the dude" on multiple occasions. Unless you've experienced this yourself, it's very hard to fully understand. I do know some women that are taller, even much taller, than their significant others... and they are not only cool with it, they like it. I will, however, also say that these men they are dating/married to are so beyond bad ass it's kinda retarded. Not to say that if you're really tall it's okay to be a total dumb ass with no personality, intelligence or sense of humor... but I'll be honest, it sure as shit doesn't hurt.

I replied to the message, we wrote back and forth for a few days & exchanged cell phone #'s. When we spoke on the phone I found myself exceptionally grateful that a)he didn't talk like Mike Tyson, & b) he wasn't British.  (I would have been more than okay with him being Scottish though, that accent is what narrates my dreams)

He offered to drive down to where the ferry boat docks on the mainland
(*insert ominous music here*)
I said yes.

I bought my return ticket in advance again this time, and brought a book. Worst case scenario? I would have 2 1/2 hours of freedom to read if this turned out to be a similar situation to the last brief (er.. uh... short?) date. I love to read, so win/win eh?

He greeted me at the end of the ramp where passengers disembark, and he had not lied about his height. (THANK YOU!) We smiled, and had that 5 second moment of "do we shake hands? Do we hug? Do we kiss a cheek?"... all playing out via thought bubbles.  We hugged briefly, and started to walk towards town.

It was an oddly breezy/chilly day and he mentioned that his car was close by if I wanted his jacket he left in the front seat. (*Mental note: gold star for chivalry, dude!) He then asked if there was anywhere in particular that I might like to go... I just shrugged and said "I rarely eat around here, and only know of one place that I am certain has good food", so we went there.
After ordering and sitting down to wait for our food he asked me if there was "anywhere [I'd] like to go?" Again I told him that I rarely spent much time in this part of the Cape. It was just a place where I would wait in/with my car to catch a ferry boat home.
Then he asks me "what kind of fun things are there to do?"
AGAIN I remind him that I live on the island and his guess would be as good as mine, unless he wanted to go to Walmart and source out some good deals on toiletries & cleaning supplies.
"Would you like to go there?" he asked me.
"To Walmart?!"
"Yeah, sure, why not?"
"Seriously?"
"I know it's not a typical "date thing" to do, but... it could be fun"
"Walmart?"
"Yeah"
"Walmart?"
*he starts to laugh*
"YES, WALMART!"
*I can't help myself and start to giggle*
"No, but I'd be really happy to hit a CVS" I told him.

After we finished our meals... we went to CVS. He was totally cute, more than a little charming (but not in a smarmy "I'm trying to get something out of you" way), and I was genuinely enjoying my time with him.

We wandered up and down the aisles, poking fun at the ridiculous items for sale... I had started a mini pile of toiletries in my hands that I knew I couldn't buy back home, and especially at the awesome prices I could get them at CVS. He tried to make fun of me by asking if I'd ever wear the bright orange nail polish I had in my hands...
"You do realize you're asking someone with fuchsia hair if she'd wear orange nail polish, right?"
"You're right, want me to go grab you some of the blue too?" he smiled. A very sweet smile.
Conversation was easy with this guy, he was smart, he was funny, he had impecible comedic timing. He knew the most random obscure things... which totally jives with my plethoric knowledge of random & useless facts. (Did you know the name of the street The Brady Bunch lived on was Clinton Ave? Did you know that cat pee glows under black light? Well, now you do.) I loved that he and I were so similar in that respect. It was just funny. The hour or so spent wandering around CVS laughing till we had tears in our eyes was so much fun... till we hit the periodicals section.

I picked up a copy of one of the many home decor type magazines and flipped through quickly as he stood there with a not so pleasant look on his face.
"What's the matter?" I asked him
"This!.. What's with this shit?" he asked... to no one & everyone.... as he points to a row of magazines.
"What do you mean?" ... I really had no idea what he was talking about.
"Why are all these black magazines here? Why are there so many black people on the covers of these?" he said.
I stood there waiting for the punchline to a shitty joke..... and it never came.
"Are you serious?" I whispered
"Yes, yes I am... what's with this shit? Why are they everywhere?!"
I looked at the items in my hands, decided that there really wasn't time to take a pen & paper out of my purse and write an apology to whichever CVS employee would find the moisturizer, lip gloss, orange nail polish, and purse sized bottle of hairspray saying:

"I don't know" I said... and placed my stuff on the shelf in front of me, reached in my purse to pull out the ferry schedule and said "but what I do know is that I need to head back to the ferry or I'll miss the last boat tonight...."
"I thought the last boat was at 8pm or something like that?"
"Yeah, stupid me, I read the schedule wrong, I forgot they were changing things this week... best get a move on. I can come back for the stuff another time."
"Oh, okay. Bummer."
"Yeah"
"Wanna go out again next weekend?" he asked me, walking to the front door of CVS.
It felt like forever as the multitude of answers played out in my head... all of them ending with "no way Jose!"... though, his name was obviously not "Jose"... so even that comment could have sparked controversy....
As we got into his car I chose "Next weekend? Oh! I can't! I'm scheduled to cover a shift for someone at work, sucks, eh?"
"Yeah, I had a good time with you, you're awesome."
So awesome that I will go on a date with a fucking racist... I thought to myself.
"Thank you, that's very kind of you to say" I replied and willed my cell phone to ring/beep/make any sort of noise so that I could be momentarily distracted as we drove back to the ferry.... by some miracle, thanks to a random facebook notification, it made the telltale sound of something coming through on my phone.
He laughed at the fact that it was a sound bite of "R2D2"... I just smiled and said "excuse me for a moment, I need to check this and make sure it's not work related." Fact is it was just a friend commenting on a picture I was tagged in.... but HE didn't need to know that.

We got back to the boat in record time, and when he asked me where he should park so he could wait with me I told him "Oh don't be silly, if you leave now you'll avoid the traffic. I'll be fine, the boat will be here any minute."
He gave me a strange look, and as I got out of the car he called out to me by name and said

"Did I do something wrong?"

I looked at him and then turned my head to see the ferry boat pulling into the dock. I knew I wouldn't be able to get on it till the cars and passengers were unloaded first... and I must admit, I was kinda freaked out by the idea of what this guy might say or do if I told him the truth... then I noticed two people waiting to get on the next ferry boat. Two fairly large & heavily tattooed gentlemen that I had met and talked to at length with the weekend before at my job managing the motorcycle shop. They noticed me too. (At 5'11, with fuchsia hair, I'm kinda hard to miss) and waved back... I turned back to "my date," feeling a strange sense of security, and said:
"Yeah... yes you did. Dude, you're a freakin' racist. I want no part of that. Please lose my number." I turned and walked towards the men on their motorcycles with a smile on my face, no idea what Roger Racist had to say, and no inclination to care either.