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.....

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!!!)

 

Now What?

*WARNING!* If you are in no mood to hear someone piss & moan... best quit reading here and go re-read something else along this eventual topic that might be less complain-y. Everyone else...? Please feel free to air your personal grievances as well. Let's let the comments be free group therapy today, shall we?

This morning I woke up in plenty of time to do a bunch of things and still make it to work on time, if not early... the problem? It's my day off.

Why up so early? Well, the housemate kept saying that a friend of his was going to be spending the night, and knowing they would all be out drinking, and that the housemate has ZERO use of an "inside voice" once alcohol has taken control, I wanted to be fast asleep with a few hours headway before they got in.

When I awoke this morning the sky was still fairly dark & my room was freezing. This was one of those mornings that really makes me HATE being single. I do my best to make all I can out of these moments and spread out like a starfish in bed.

I lay there for a good 15 minutes, enjoying the silence, and the warm down comforter. The sheets on my bed had just been washed and I could still smell the slightly floral aroma of the dryer sheet as my head tilted into the pillow. I focused on the house, the sounds of the house. Could I hear a person snoring in the living room? No... the snores were emanating from the housemate's bedroom. Was the beast up and walking around? No. Is it too early to get up and make a cup of tea or coffee if the houseguest is asleep on the sofa? To be honest, I didn't even care about that last one. I was cold and thirsty.

I put on some slippers, pulled a warm hoodie on over my head, and surprise surprise.... no houseguest! Happy surprise really :)

I made some coffee, and because I still can't stand the taste of it on it's own, sprinkled in some cinnamon and squirted a bunch of whipped cream in it. What? It's my @#$%&*^ day off and I KNOW the housemate won't be up for hours (he's a marathon sleeper, especially after a night of boozin' it up with friends ... as opposed to on his own...), why not celebrate? I cooked some bacon too :) (That's right... party fucking central over here early Sunday morning! whooot whooot!)

Next up... check email. Know what I found? Another email from FutureMe.org.  (Remember the last one?) This one I had COMPLETELY forgotten about. It was written to myself, the afternoon of my birthday this year... and... well... let's just say it was almost evil the things I said to myself.

As usual, and because I really have nothing to lose by being 100% honest about this sort of thing (well, honest about anything really- unless it's your birthday and I have to give a "noooo we're totally not throwing you a surprise party" lie)... here it is:

Dear FutureMe,
It is Wednesday January 12th, 2010- It's your birthday, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Well, when you read this you will be 2 months shy of your next birthday (minus a day). Won't it be interesting to see where you are at in your life by now? Please, please, please tell me you are no longer with the person who blew off this trip to Scotland with you. Quit making excuses for him. He knew MONTHS in advance that you wanted to be here for your birthday. Thank fucking god you actually hopped that train and came here on your own.

That you were the one to call HIM on YOUR birthday was sad enough... that you had to remind him it was your birthday was downright depressing.

I know you keep going back in your mind to when you two first met, and how amazing everything was. You can't stop thinking about all the sweet and kind things he did and said... you keep holding out hope that he will be that person again. You need to drop it. He won't. EVER. It was a trick, of the mind & the heart. Yours & his. I guarantee you that he will blow off the trip to Paris as well. Even though the tickets are dirt cheap, and even though you two would have somewhere FREE to stay, he will find a way & a reason to not go. 4 days in Paris.... and he will find an excuse to not go. Mark my words. (And quit being so fucking dumb! Seriously!)

I hope that when you get back to London, after this trip, you really take a good long look at what has happened. I also hope you find the nerve to just end things. Get a ticket home, and go. I know you hate being on the island in the winter. I know it bores you to tears, I know that being single, during the winter, on that island is one of the hardest things to be... but just DO IT! Yes, you will miss him... and you'll probably be dumb enough to allow all the fucked up things he has said to you over the past few months to be pushed into the oblivion of your ridiculous brain, and you will do your best to focus on the good parts... but please stop telling your friends to not hate him. Stop telling people that he's "a good guy, just not my good guy"... because you'll never fucking know. Those times when he did right by you... that is what is going to make you miss him. Those times when you'd lay there on the sofa, or in bed, cracking up or talking about your future together.... yeah, those were great moments, TRULY... but you are (& I am so fucking sure of this!) forgetting all the cruel things he would say, and then try to glaze them over with a smile, or tell you that you don't know how to take a joke. (Ever think maybe he can't tell a proper one?) All those times you cried yourself to sleep... and a few of those times when he woke up because you choked on your own tears trying to be silent, and he fucking yelled at you?! Not cool, not okay. Please don't forget those moments, they will not break you... DO YOU HEAR ME BITCH!? They WILL NOT break you, he will not break you. What he will do is act faux sad if you break up with him, then do jack shit about getting you back. He will never fight for you, NEVER. Do you not know this? How do you not know this? He does not love you. You probably don't love him anymore either, but in this moment, as this is being written... you have tears in your eyes because you can't stop thinking about the person you DID love. He is NOT that person.

I recommend you break up and board a flight that same day back to the states. Did you do that? (Please tell me you did that!) I know you will stay friends with him, because the truth is... you two were awesome as "just friends." You were an ocean apart and flirting was innocent and nothing could happen. (DAMN YOU SKYPE!)

My birthday wish... today... on your/my/our (how the fuck do I write this part?!) birthday is that one year from today, on your birthday... a big birthday no less!... you are free of any and all feelings for the man that treated you horribly and made you feel like shit. If you are still friends with him, so be it. Please just stop missing him.... because unless a miracle occurred between your birthday in 2010 and the date you are reading this... I am pretty sure (okay, totally positive) that you still miss him. Smarten up and realize that you don't miss HIM. You miss having someone there. You deserve to be treated better, kinder. You ARE a good person, you love the fuck out of your friends, and would do anything for them... they know this. He is either clueless... or he is totally taking advantage of it. You two are oil & water.

GET OUT!

Notice I am smart enough to send this with a two month (minus a day) head start to try to make my/our/your (wtf?) birthday wish come true? DO SOMETHING! DO IT NOW!... and for fucks sake, when the cute, funny, clever, kind guy flirts with you... quit questioning it... not all guys are faking it... some are excellent. Yes, I realize most of them are married or have girlfriends... but the ones that don't... they are probably sincere... you're just too blinded by cynicism to notice these days. How the fuck did this current man (who, as you read this is hopefully NOT "current") break down those walls? We know who & what made you build them in the first place... maybe you should revisit THAT person and see what you can figure out? Good luck with that.

PS. Don't bartend this summer, you'll grow to hate it.

*****************************************************

And THAT ladies & gentlemen is what I had to say to myself in January of this year.

Damn.

Sometimes it feels like shit to be right.

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 *tiny 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.

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.

(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.

(Not Exactly 50) First Dates: Date One

I'm trying. I'm REALLY trying. I swear..... but I just can't seem to find someone that I have that same *insta-click* with like I did with the ex.
I realize it's a bit harder seeing as how I live on this island, and almost anyone here that is single is pretty much single for a reason. Then, of course, there are those that are single whom I consider good friends and the idea of dating them is just ridiculous because of that.
So, I've caved in & tried the internet thing again.

 A few months back, at the start of the summer, I had met someone kind of interesting. We exchanged a few messages, eventually our cell phone #s, and after about a week made plans to get together.

I will say upfront that he was indeed very nice, polite, smart, and tall... but the fact that he was so excited to come out to the island for the day kinda put me off.

Maybe I'm wrong, but when meeting up with someone for a first date, someone you might have the potential of forming a relationship with... you probably should try to STFU about the fact that you are so excited you can scratch "visit Martha's Vineyard" off your list of things to do.

I felt like a freakin' tour guide for the majority of the day. He arrived on the island around lunch time, and didn't leave till the sun was setting. I think I managed to show him every town on the island, every spot most tourists want to see, and put at least 150 miles on my car that day.

Sure, he was nice. Yes, we had some fun conversation... but there was something in the back of my mind just naggin' at me to get the day over with. Might have started when he told me that women seem to love his accent. Yeah, you guessed it... millions of men out there and the first one I agree to a date with is from England. At least, as a scouser, he had a different accent from the ex. I kinda didn't even notice his accent till he found ways to mention the fact that he had one, repeatedly. Sorta like I'd suddenly say "OMG! You have the sexiest voice!" (He didn't.)

Oh, and the other thing was when we were chatting about what it was we wanted in relationships (sounds more heavy than it was, the conversation was very lighthearted), I told him about the time my friend Doug proclaimed: "Thing is...YOU don't date spheres... you need someone with an edge." Know what ScouserMan said? "Oh, but I have an edge!" ... Dude, the fact that you just had to let me know that you have an edge kinda means you don't... sorry.

Right before he left the island that evening he told me he had a really nice time with me and would love to get together again. I smiled and said "that would be nice", knowing full well I'd probably never do it.  He txt'd a few times, I replied a few times, it was all rather pointless.

About a month or so after the date I get this text message from him and it read:

Wow... seriously? I wasn't really sure how to take that. We went on that first date back at the end of June..."About 20 other dates"? 20 other dates in less than 5 weeks? 2 of which I knew he was away on business, and the fact that he only had Saturdays and Sundays free?  Sorry, but homeboy has GOT to be lying. Well Casanova...  thanks but no thanks. I appreciated the sideways compliment, and more or less said as much... but I'm all set there. NEXT!

*Stay tuned for the date known as "Mr. Perfect For Me" 'cept for one minor major detail...

Didley Squat

I really haven't had much time this summer to write... and I gotta tell you, it's killin' me. I don't just mean my blog, or visiting yours... but writing to write. It's something I love, and now it's something I truly miss. Problem now is that when I do have an hour or so free... my brain goes to mashed bananas and I can't think of anything to write.
There are times when I just want to vent frustrations, or bitch up a storm... or seek some consoling for something awful that has happened/is happening... or maybe I'm just in the mood to share a story.... but for the most part I've got nothin'. A big heapin' pile of jack shit.
LUCKILY Starlight over at her blog Crazy Thoughts was kind enough to tag me in a post that now gave me something to write about... so without further ado... and because my lame ass has put this off long enough...here we go: 

I am apparently supposed to answer these seven questions about my blog via links to my blog ... so....

1)    Your most beautiful moment: I can't explain why.... I really can't... (ok.. won't)  but this post would be it.

2)    A post that didn't get the attention you thought it deserved : oh, that's easy... this one (it didn't get one single comment, which makes me think no one read it :( ... and it was like the most excellent thing that had happened to me in I don't know how long.

3)    Your most popular blog post: well, according to blogger... it's this one: "Porn & Gambling". I find it funny because I wrote the post as a joke... sorta like a filler really.

4)    Your most controversial blog post is called : "Brains" and I don't think it was overly controversial... but some dude decided to go all religious on me... which I found more than a little funny.

5)    Your most helpful post: I really don't think I have any that are "helpful", you know? I guess the closest I came was with a post that a lot of people couldn't wrap their heads around. Even though I tried to choose my words carefully and make people understand that the LAST thing I was looking for was validation of any sort.... people still had some whacked out theory that I was fishing for compliments etc. The only thing that saved me from deleting that post altogether was that private messages came to me via email from others that read it and fully understood because they suffered, or were currently suffering, from the same thing. No one wants another to feel bad, but sometimes knowing that someone else is able to fully empathise with what you're going through can truly help with the process of moving past it.

6)    A post whose success surprised me: I honestly don't know. I mean I really don't know. Guess I need a better definition of "success."

7)    The post I am most proud of is: my first one here "Beach Day" I had 4... yes FOUR other blogs... all of them crap... three of them just pointless stuff really, and one where I poured my heart out. I kept that one private. Only like two or three people had access. Sorta just a diary really. That is what this blog has been for me at times... and this one is still rather pointless, but I do enjoy it when I have the time to sit and write. I'm not proud of it for any reason other than it's proof (to me) that I CAN just throw out the garbage when needed.

Now I am supposed to tag some people whose answers I'd like to see.... and you know what? Totally doin' it :)

1) Cake Betch
2)Bea
3)Pickelope
4)BeMistified
5)LeeRoses

Saturday In The Park...It Wasn't On The 4th Of July

On the off chance that anyone was wondering which I chose.... and to be honest I have no idea why anyone would... but I am totally that type of person that would be oddly dying to know... I went with....

this dress

these shoes.... until my feet just said "oh hell no!"... then I switched....

to these flip flops... that weirdly enough matched the dress perfectly....

plus my oddly sparkly purse...that barely holds anything worthwhile, but I'll be damned if it ain't cute as hell!

PLUS My favorite pendant around my neck (it's called a druzy, & it's kinda massive... and epic)... and I pretty much want to wear it all the time, every day... but that'd take all the fun out of people asking "holy shit! what is that?!"

and .... ready for the big reveal? My hot date, Doug.......

....who is topping my list of favorite human beings for life, snapped this shot of me on our way to the wedding:

 

The bride was perfection... as always... and even in the candid shots she looked like the model she was a few years ago:

 

 

So... there ya go. ♥

Disbelief

I am a gnostic atheist.
I do not believe in god, any god, but I welcome anyone to give me proof that one exists. I also believe that trying to prove a god exists is right up there with proving the Illuminati into reality. Knowing this about myself makes it impossible (a self imposed impossibility I guess) for me to request "prayers" for someone or something. That said, I will NEVER deny someone the right to request them, or give them, to others or myself.

(click to enlarge)

 News of the worst kind has burst into my world, and I am helpless to do anything but care very deeply. 

The hurricane that grazed this wee island I live on last weekend thankfully did very little damage here. Nothing that wasn't remedied within' days, if not hours... yet the damage it did to a close friend in upstate New York put our petty "loss of power for a few hours" into some serious perspective.
His business, his livelihood, disappeared under 5' of water. All computers, files, books, paperwork.... EVERYTHING... unsalvageable. Throw in the fact that the area is not on a floodplain, and therefor insurance doesn't cover one dime of his loss... well... yeah... it gets worse.
His business partner, who is married with children, lost his entire house. GONE. Wiped off the planet, nothing spared but his family. Yes, that IS the most important part, but... again... yeah... wtf.
Today news came in that the same friend, whose business partner lost his home, who lost his business, has now been told that his father's cancer has spread and his time here has a much closer departure date than anticipated.
It is too late for miracles; it is too late to save what has been lost, or will be lost... but my very strong belief in Noetic Science tells me to ask everyone to focus.
With all that you have, even if just for a few moments, keep this person in your thoughts. His family. His sister that has just advanced her wedding date forward by about 6 months so that she can know her father will be with her. With those thoughts, focus on the heartfelt desire that their current and impending pain will be bearable. That they will be able to find the light at the end of the tunnel without sacrifice of well being. Just keep these strangers, to you, in your heart... even if only till you get to the last sentence I type here tonight.
For that, I thank you. From the very bottom off my often cynical, fairly un-pc,  slightly damaged, and yet always goofy heart... I thank you. ♥

this is from a few years ago, but I love this picture of the two of us...

@#$%^&*!!!!!!

THIS is this afternoon... Friday afternoon.... imagine what Sunday afternoon will look like?! You know, I used to like purple.... right now.... not so much.....
Wish me and my house (and all the overly dangerous trees that hang over my roof- thanks jerky neighbors!) luck.....