omg ppl thx 4 the txt lol… wtf

I swear I think texting is making people dumber. Or at least sound dumber. I keep getting emails form people who I know are using a full keyboard and are too damn lazy to type out a whole word. I mean is it really that much more difficult to spell txt and text? Seriously, this is starting to work my nerves. I’m all for text lingo if I’m actually texting someone. Cell phone keyboards can be a pain and texts often have a maximum amount of characters allowed. So in those situations I’ll shorten, abbreviate, substitute, whatever, and I don’t mind if others do the same. But for the love of technology people stop texting in an email unless you’re in a super mad crazy rush! In which case why are you emailing me? Though on a side note I am totally guilty of using omg and wtf. Somehow they made their way into my written lexicon.

And while I’m on the subject let’s delve into the idiots on my dating site. If you’re trying to impress me why would you abbreviate your email beyond all recognition? And if we’ve exchanged one email why do you think I’m gonna give you my number so we can have a text conversation? I feel like the whole wooing aspect of dating is dead. What can we say in a text that’s really gonna give us insight on each other? Not to mention the constant beeping is unnerving. A one line email saying “how are you doing” is not enough incentive for me to give you my number. The last time I fell for that I ended up having a text conversation with a guy who asked me to text him nude pictures of myself. Uhhh… NOT going to happen!!! It blows my mind because I’m thinking that if they’re ballsy enough to just come out and ask something like that then that means it’s worked before. Come on ladies, let’s make them work a little harder than that. And if you’re willing to send dirty pics the same day you get a number then you deserve the judgement passed on you and the days of wondering why he never called you back.

Maybe that’s why I’m still single. I mean I definitely spent some time in slutopia in my past. I’m not gonna pretend that I’ve always made the classy choices but the older I get the more I just want a normal guy (or at least one that’s the same kind of weird that I am!) and the more I realize how warped everyone has become. Guys seem to expect fast food dating. Check out the offerings on the menu, pick a picture that looks yummy and see if it’s hot and ready to take home. Check please!

A little effort goes a long way with me. If I can tell a guy has actually read my profile and has thought of an interesting question to ask based on the plethora of info I’ve provided then I’m much more impressed than by some meat head flexing his pecs with no shirt on who thinks he’s doing me some favor by emailing me “hey, what’s up.” I mean at this point a guy who can spell seems like a rare gem.

Anyway, back to my original point. I think technology is actually making people increasingly stupid. Between spell check and text lingo no one knows how to use the English language anymore. Why bother learning how to speak or write if the computer can do it for you. And if you’re so lazy that you can’t even be bothered to spell check, don’t bother emailing me. Ugh. Ok, end rant, return to watching How I Met Your Mother.

It’s Really Just Sad…

Man have I been busy lately! Grades are due tomorrow and I finally caught up enough so that I don’t feel like a HUGE douchebag. I was seriously behind. Also I’ve been planning tomorrow’s pep rally. I hate this stuff because it’s so hard to get anyone at my school to return a damn email. The band kids say that they’re gonna play but I haven’t gotten confirmation from the band director. So I’m not really sure how that’s gonna work out. Hopefully it’ll go well, we have a quick student/teacher basketball game as the highlight. I haven’t done this yet so fingers crossed that the kids get excited by it. Pep rallies seriously stress me out because they have to run smoothly and with teenagers anything can happen. I can’t wait till it’s over!

On top of the grades and the pep rally I’m trying to put together a Valentine’s Day dance for next Wednesday. Now this is certainly not my idea! The Principal made me do it! When did Student Government become the social committee? SGA has a budget right now of $180 and I’m supposed to throw a dance with that? I was hoping ticket sales would help out a bit. SGA seriously needs the money or there’s gonna be no Homecoming next year. Last year we were allowed to charge for pep rally tickets but this year we couldn’t. That knocked out a giant chunk of my fundraising ability. I usually made between $500-$700 per pep rally. I’d be sitting pretty right now if it weren’t for that. But I digress. So far SGA has sold 4 tickets. Yes. FOUR. I’ve had my kids selling in all the lunches this week and we’ve sold 4!!! Half the kids say they’re gonna wait till the day of the dance to buy the ticket. Well that just won’t work. I’m not going to hold a dance when I have fewer people than fingers promising to come. Until I have a guarantee of 100 kids (although honestly I’d let it go at 70) I’m not going to hold the dance. The other half of the kids are saying that dances are lame and they have no interest in doing something that is supervised. Sigh… I betcha I’m gonna have to cancel the dance. I’m kinda 50/50 about it. On one hand I do NOT want to have to drive back to school after a day on jury duty to watch teenagers grind on each other. On the other hand SGA really really really needs the income and I’d like to say “yes, I did it!”

These kids have no school spirit. At all. We do class cheer-offs at pep rallies and they sit there. They’re literally too cool for school. I can’t get my SGA kids to attend meetings, I can’t get kids hyped up at pep rallies and I can’t get them involved in school activities. What the hell! Sometimes I wonder of my irritation for all things Panther rubs off on them. But at the same time its THEIR school, not mine. It’s hard to get pumped about it when there’s no reward. If the kids really enjoyed this stuff there’d be some satisfaction in it but most of the time I feel like there’s no point. I’m not gonna be the only one doing all the work here. The kids have to contribute too. I did all of the work to pull off Homecoming with the help of four students. And then I got shit from parents who didn’t like the job I did. Well then come up here and help me! All clubs need parent volunteers, I’d love an extra pair of hands and an extra set of ideas. I’m not doing this by myself again. Too stressful.

Anyway, fingers crossed that tomorrow goes off smoothly, I’m trying not to worry about it but its in the back of my head nagging at me. At least once its over I can breathe a sigh of relief and look forward to my weekend. God bless sleeping in!

Dating Retards

Internet dating is obviously not the most ideal way to meet someone but since I’ve been having so much trouble meeting guys in person it is the method of choice at the moment. I know there are some normal guys out there in cyberland but I also know I’ll have to sift through some socially inept idiots as well. For me its a method of convenience, for others it’s the only method available because after talking to them nobody would date their dumb asses.

Case of the day: Playground Boy- 34, software sales

At first he seemed ok, Atlanta native but had transplanted to Florida for a while and was moving back. Then I get this email:

LOL….sooooo…..tell me…would you like to text or callll me?!?! PLEASE!!???
XXX-XXX-XXXX
Playground Boy
PS…GO GEORGIA TECH!! =)

1- I hadn’t said anything remotely amusing. Why is he LOLing? That drives me crazy. If you aren’t actually laughing out loud why are you saying so? It’s an action phrase, not punctuation.

2- Is he serious with the PLEASE!!!! ? Am I the only one who thinks that comes across as needy, clingy and desperate?

3- Why you raggin my team man? That’s not romantical.

But I decided to progress anyway. I really need to learn to stick with my instincts. He was just making a joke, no big. I responded with GT=gross and proceeded to ask him about himself. I never got a return email, just a litany of 3rd grade texts. I got another “GO TECH LOL!!!” and a “helloooooo” both of which were during the day. Dude, I teach, if it’s before 3 I can’t get back to you. I’m not gonna stop class and say hey kids, why don’t you wait while I have a text battle with this dude I’m talking to. When the kids left I texted him that I was at work and couldn’t talk. I also asked if it was him because the text came from an unknown number. No response. Ok, whatever. The next day I get “hey slacker” in my inbox. Come on dude. I asked him if he was  trying to charm me or pull my hair. He just said “maybe.” Big fat whatever. It’s fine to tease someone once you know them but get to know me first. If I’m supposed to see you in a romantic light, woo me. THEN tease me. Get to know me first, you’ll have plenty of material then.

So I told Playground Boy that I wasn’t vibin on his method. I figured I’d try to be honest. No one likes to be criticized but I’d rather know what I did to turn someone off then keep doing it and turning people off. He got mad. He said “Ok. Well…. sorry you don’t even want to get to know me. We all have faults you know.” I told him that it wasn’t really a fault (lie) and that the right girl would totally get his sense of humor. That girl just wasn’t me. I got two more texts defending his method and saying I can’t take a joke. Dude, I’m not into you. Move on and stop pissing me off, it’s not gonna change my mind.  Either find someone who gets you or stop antagonizing women before the first date. I could tell that if we were to go out he’d just get on my nerves so there was really no point in continuing.

But here’s the dilemma I’m having. I get emails from guys demanding a response. They close an introductory email by saying that its rude not to respond. No it’s not. It’s life. If I saw you in a bar I’d keep walking. I wouldn’t stop and tell you that you’re too old or fat or ugly. THAT would be rude. But when I do respond to say thanks but no thanks they get mad. I don’t get it. Which way do they want it? Bad news or no news? Ugh. I give up.

*Update- About 2 hours after I wrote this he texted me AGAIN telling me I take life too seriously. No dude, I’m just not into you! I told him we’re different, there’s nothing wrong with that. I resisted the urge to tell him stop insulting me. gahhhhh!!!*

We Are the World

I had a revelation on the way home tonight. This year, people who were born in 1980 will turn 30. How crazy is that! Granted very few of my friends have hit this milestone birthday and sadly I’ve blazed right past it but think about it. Thirty years is a long ass time! Thirty years ago Reagan informed Americans that it was morning, Blondie’s “Call Me” was the number one song on the radio, radios were actually considered high-tech, The Empire Strikes Back was number one at the box office, the “U-S-A” chant rang in the ears of every American as Mike Eruzione scored the winning goal against the Soviets, the Cold War was going strong and yours truly was navigating the treacherous territory of the living room attempting to figure out this confusing thing called walking. The ’80s were a long time ago but I remember them clearly. It’s not like harkening back to the nostalgic ’50s  or anything. I’m not busting out my wrinkle cream quite yet. But still, 30 years is a fairly hefty stretch. Imagine a piece of ham that’s been in the fridge for 30 years. Gross right? Or wearing the same pants for 30 years. Who’d do that besides my mother? It blows my mind to think that the ’80s, which I have always considered the recent past, aren’t so recent anymore.

There have been a few reminders of it today. Bing, T and I were watching an old HBO comedy special from 1991 and were shocked to see how young some of the then up-and-coming comedians looked. Drew Carey had yet to eat his way to the top, Jon Stewart had jet black hair. We were cracking up at all of the outfits the audience was wearing. Gee I wonder why denim button down shirts and purple sequined tops with shoulder pads went out of style… One comedian was joking about the length of the war with Iraq. It lasted 100 hours. Shocking when you think about how long we’ve been mired in the mess this time around. Then as I was driving home “We Are the World” came on the radio. Who doesn’t love that song! I couldn’t help but sing along and remember sitting in my living room on our magenta (ha!) carpet watching the video and playing the vinyl record whilst belting it out into my hairbrush. The song is what triggered my realization that this will be the third decade that song has been around. It also got me thinking about a clip from The Daily Show I saw the other day. They had put together a segment based on how a lot of pundits keep lamenting that America has gone down the tubes and wishing it was still 19 fill-in-the-blank when they were kids and all was well with the world. John Oliver called them out because of course all was well, they were 6! The worst thing that can happen when you’re 6 is chicken pox. You don’t have bills to pay, you see your family everyday, dinner is always hot and yummy and never consists solely of chips and salsa, long division really isn’t all that difficult, Santa is real, random fairies who for some odd reason want your teeth are willing to pay you for them and the world has yet to make you jaded. There’s fascination in every new discovery and it’s totally cool to tell your friends you want to go to Disney World, which by the way is an all-expense paid trip courtesy of the Bank of Dad. You’ve never been fired, hungover or had your heart broken. Like John Mayer says, heaven is 1983.

I really don’t know where this post was going other than to mention a few random thoughts I had on the drive home. It’s sad to think I’ll never feel the magic of childhood again and that every day brings me a little step closer to that fateful moment when I decide it’s time for wrinkle cream. But a trip down memory lane is always a good time and though the ’80s are long gone they’ll always have a place in my heart and on my vinyl record player. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a cat eating a poinsettia that needs to be yelled at.

Mangia!

First of all, I’d like to say you’re welcome. I love how Atlanta comes to a screeching halt whenever there’s even a whisper of snow. I’m not complaining at all, snow days rock! I even let my alarm go off this morning so I could sleepily smile, turn it off and blissfully return to dreamland knowing I wouldn’t have to utter the phrase “pull your pants up” today. I’m telling ya, the secret works!

Now for the topic at hand. Nom noms. Everyone loves Italian food… except my sister. But she doesn’t like any food so she really doesn’t count. And I’m happy to say that this is my area of specialty when it comes to cooking. But no matter how good a cook I may think I am, I can’t compare to my Italian grandmother. It remains a goal to reproduce her Pomodoro Sauce. I’ve tried to get the recipe from her 1,000 times but she’s so old that she doesn’t really remember. Every time I ask her she tells me something different. I remember family dinners in New York with the table piled full of food: sautéed mushrooms and broccoli,  Italian sausages from Mesagiourno’s, meatballs the size of your fist, trays of baked ziti, slices of thick Italian bread and olive oil, bowls of delicious Pomodoro sauce, trays of cannoli and pinnoli and all kinds of desserts and cookies from Alfonso’s. And no matter how much we all ate, she just kept reloading. She’d have her nice table cloths and dishes out just for a random family gathering. I miss that. I miss going to school with a meatball sandwich and even though all the other kids made fun of me because they were confused by my lumpy lunch, I secretly knew I had better eats than any of them had ever tasted.

I’ve mastered many recipes over the years but Grama’s sauce still eludes me. She says it’s just tomatoes, onions, salt and water. Well I can’t make those ingredients taste like her sauce. My sauce recipe is pretty good but light years from hers. It makes me sad to think that I’ll never taste that velvety red goodness again. The other sauce that I need a good recipe for is Marsala. Mine is too buttery and salty. There’s a restaurant on Staten Island called Waterfalls that makes the most amazing dish called Vitello di Vico. Basically it’s spinach, mushrooms and cheese rolled inside of thinly sliced veal cutlets. It comes over pasta in a Marsala sauce with pancetta crumbles. It’s heaven on a plate. If I could get the hang of the sauce I think I could recreate it at home in Georgia.

Sauces are my favorite condiment and for me, the hardest task to master. Bing and I made a kick-ass vodka sauce a while back, though we worked on it for hours and had a wee bit o’ trouble lighting the vodka on fire. We ended up using rolled up coffee filters because we didn’t want to burn our fingers off by using little lighters when the sauce flambeed . I make a decent Marinara/Primavera combo but I’m still tinkering with the consistency. It needs to be thicker. If anyone out there has a good sauce recipe they’d like to share I’d really appreciate it. Especially a recipe for Pomodoro or Marsala. Hopefully with a little practice and a few more years of experience I’ll be able to cook like my culinary kin and one day have my own grandkids beg me for time-honored recipes.

I’m a Jedi Baby!

I’m supposed to be making pizza sauce and pizza right now but I don’t feel like getting off the couch quite yet so…. hello diversion!

Those that know me know I can be very sarcastic, cynical, jaded… a sayer of nays. So for Christmas this year my mom got me a copy of The Secret.  Honestly I was thinking to myself “what the hell is this shit and when did my mother turn into a hippie?” But to appease her constant appeals to read the damn thing I flipped it open and to my surprise actually liked the book. Now granted some of it is a little cheesy, I’m not at all a fan of self-help books but this one seemed a little different. One of the things I liked about it was the quotes and references to famous dead folks that tied into the philosophy. Kinda added a little credibility to the theory. I also thought the parallels to many of the world religions were interesting.

Basically, to sum it up (was that redundant?), the theory is that like attracts like. If you think negative thoughts negative things will continue to happen to you. Visa versa for positive thoughts. Now I could definitely stand to think more positively. And when I tried to do it I was surprised to see how comfortable I had become with feeling complacent. Being cynical is safe. If something bad happens it doesn’t catch you off guard or throw your world out of whack. (What’s a whack by the way?) If you expect idiots to be idiots you aren’t surprised when they spew their idiocracy all over you. You don’t feel stupid for being unprepared for the worst if you expect the worst. It’s familiar and comfy. But I started thinking, what if the theory is right? What if preparing for the worst ensures that it will happen? What if looking for the worst in people ensures that you’ll find it? Being happy feels good. Why wouldn’t I want to feel that way all the time? Why then did it feel so weird to purposely try to feel that way instead of waiting for it to pop up? Why did it feel so much like work to feel happy and peaceful? Why do I have to continuously remind myself to stay positive? Am I really that out of touch? Wow. It opened my eyes. Maybe I really am the master of my own destiny…. Sounds cheesy but maybe instead of looking for ways to make fun of it I should start practicing it. So I did.

Now I’m not gonna sit here and say my life has experienced some revolutionary turn. It really is a matter of continuously reminding myself to stay focused on what I want and believe I deserve it. Not try to figure out how to justify why I don’t have it and find blame elsewhere like i’m accustomed to doing. And “it” could be anything from money to respectful students to warm feet. (Mim just plopped down on my feet a minute ago so maybe there’s something to this whole “Secret” business ) I have, however, been less depressed, more optimistic, more accepting of my state of affairs. It was crazy, after reading the book I really truly felt better about the whole Sax thing. It didn’t bug me like it used to. I accepted that it’s time to move on, was grateful for the experience and for him showing me what’s possible and I’m optimistic that I’ll find it again. And as much as I was dreading going back to work, I tried to stay positive throughout the day yesterday and I’ll be damned if it was at least partially successful. I didn’t get annoyed with the kids and in response I guess, they didn’t seem to try as hard to annoy me. Maybe I wasn’t allowing myself to get annoyed by the small stuff. It was seriously hard work though. I was in my head more than I was in the moment but hey, it’s gonna get easier.

That’s my goal for 2010. Be more positive and effect more positive change in my life. I’m gonna Jedi mind fuck the Universe and be a healthier, happier me this year. I’m gonna start simple, do some volunteer work with Hippie. I know that’ll feel good. And once those good vibes start rolling in I won’t have to try so hard to maintain a good attitude. I’m tempted to say something sarcastic here so that I don’t look stupid when it all falls apart but I’m gonna go out on a limb and predict that in six months I’ll be chillin at the pool lookin’ good in my bikini and buyin’ shit left and right with my lottery winnings while gorgeous doctors beg me to let them buy me dinner. And I’m gonna make it snow tomorrow. Metro Atlanta will be singing my praises as they enjoy their snow day on Friday.

That’s what’s up 2010. I’m comin’ for ya. Watch out because you’re not gonna recognize me. Me and my new ‘tude are taking over this bitch ass year!

Just Call Me Kermit

Nothing is worse than being sick on vacation. You don’t have access to your usual remedies and all you want to do is curl up in your own bed under a blanket of kitties. Well, at least I do. For the past few days I’ve had a bit of a sore throat but when I woke up this morning I had absolutely no voice! Mom and I were half way to Manhattan before I could speak above a whisper. (We went to the Museum of Natural History). My voice kept coming and going all day long and my throat feels like its been rubbed down with sandpaper. I sound like a damn dying frog trying to croak out it’s last pathetic ribbits. I feel bad because I’m staying with my Mom and Grandmother (who is 94) and I don’t want to get them sick too. For Mom it would be an inconvenience but if Grama got sick there could be dire implications. So I’m trying to avoid her (not that that’s out of the ordinary) because I don’t want to be the reason the old lady goes to the hospital. Here’s hoping tomorrow dawns with the return of my voice and a throat that feels semi-human. Plus I’m supposed to meet up with Bing and T in the city and I don’t want to miss out on the fun. (I also don’t want to sit around the house having a staring contest with Grama).

PS- Dear dog lovers, I don’t know how you do it. Yes they’re cute and affectionate but if I have one more slobbery rawhide dumped in my lap or one more cacophony of barking erupt as each car rolls down the street, I’m gonna punch a puppy in the snout.

*sniffle sniffle haaaackkkk hack hack sniffle*

Christmas in Connecticut

For me the phrase “Christmas in Connecticut” immediately brings to mind the 1945 movie with Barbara Stanwyck about a New York City author who writes a monthly magazine column about her pseudo life as a country housewife complete with all of the recipes she prepares for her non-existent husband and son. During the course of the movie Stanwyck tries to convince her publisher that her fake life is real by bringing him to a farm in Connecticut. The version of Connecticut in the film is the one that pops into my head whenever I hear “Christmas in Connecticut.” I love that movie and watch it every Christmas though I think I might be the only one since I have yet to find anyone else who has seen that movie. At any rate, my sister and her husband bought a house in Darien, CT and Mom and I went there to spend Christmas Eve. While I knew I likely wouldn’t be treated to sleigh rides and Christmas dances like the characters in the movie, I still had an idealized vision of the area. Usually Mom and I stay on Staten Island or go to my cousin’s in NJ. But this year we trekked out to the “country” to have Christmas in Connecticut with KT.

I was a bit skeptical as Mom and I sat in gridlock traffic for two hours. Apparently the entire population of 8 million in NYC decided to leave the city just at the same time as we did. But as we drove into Darien I was treated with a picturesque little town, not all that dissimilar from the movie, though much more populated than a farming community! KT had told me we’d be joining in the neighborhood celebration. The local fire department would be handing out gifts to the neighborhood kids and then they’d all be caroling. Sounded fun, but when we got there it was beyond freezing and there was no singing, just yuppie kids getting presents from a very fake Santa. Although when they left it was seriously funny to see Santa waving from the bucket of a fire truck.

Back at KT’s house Mom and I put all of our presents under the little Charlie Brown tree in the living room. I swear my tiny 3-foot tree has more decorations than their real tree. In the process of picking up a book, which ironically was for me, I bent my thumb nail back and it snapped off about a millimeter underneath the nail bed. Owwwwww!!!! Hurt sooo bad! It started bleeding almost as immediately as I started howling. KT gave me a bandage and I milked the injury for the rest of the night until KT’s hubby thunked me on the thumb during mass at which point all I could do was whisper howl and shut up.

Now KT is NOT known for her culinary skills so we were all a tad worried when she said she was gonna cook a lasagna. Well I’ll be damned if it didn’t turn out pretty good. I guess the cooking genes didn’t bypass her completely afterall. After dinner we collected in the living room and watched Night in the Museum. Then Mom badgered us all untill we got our butts in gear and went to mass. The choir was not only bad but weird as well. They didn’t sing many Christmas songs. They just warbled some unknown hymns as everyone in the church yawned all over each other. I wasn’t impressed. Once we got home Mom and I tried to watch White Christmas, one of my favorite movies ever, but we both fell asleep.

Christmas morning was pretty cool. I slept on the couch so I didn’t have to do anything more strenuous than sit up when present time rolled around. I made out pretty good, some new books, fuzzy duck slippers and the usual purple shirt from Mom. Hand-me-down portable DVD player from KT’s hubby. Not quite sure what to do with that one. Big fat check from Grama. Gotta love some financial assistance! Then Mom made french toast and we all lazed around all afternoon until KT took us on a tour of Darien. Very cute little town. After our tour Mom packed up all of our loot and headed home to cook our little turkey and I waited for KT and her husband to pack for their trip to SE Asia. Weirdos decided to leave the country on Christmas Day, but then again what do I know of the yuppie jet-setting lifestyle.

I dropped them off at JFK and drove back to Staten Island to have a cute little dinner for two with my cute little mommy. Grama’s unwitting Christmas gift to us this year was to go to New Jersey with my uncle and leave us in peace for two whole days!!! After evading a minor food coma we watched Christmas in Connecticut and Going my Way. Love me some black and white movies. Tomorrow is Mom and mine’s annual tourist day in Manhattan. We’ve done everything we can think of so I have no idea what we’re gonna do this year. Though its nice to see her and spend time with her. She really is a cute little mommy, though I’m gonna need a break from her soon! She’s starting to drive just a wee bit crazy!

I hope everyone had a very merry Christmas and enjoys their time with family. Even if they’re mean, senile and smell funny (Grama comes back tomorrow).

Is There Something in the Eggnog?

What is it about the holidays that brings out the stupid in people? Is everyone floating around, basking in the glow of Christmas cheer and they forget which pedal makes the car move forward? Or maybe there’s something in tinsel that makes people’s brains malfunction so that they block an entire aisle with their cart while they’re perusing the selection of junk they’re about to take home. At any rate people have been particularly clueless of late.

Example. It took me almost four hours to run errands that should have taken half that time. 3 pm- traffic on the connector is at a standstill. Why? No apparent reason, no accident, no lane closures, just idiots who have no idea how to navigate a freeway, and don’t get me started on the winners clogging the surface streets, so distracted by twinkly lights that they forget you can turn right on red or go through that yellow light. After battling traffic to get to Target I surprisingly found a place to park and weaved through the people who had their carts in the middle of the parking lot and one guy who decided the side of the road wasn’t good enough for him, he drove his car up over the curb to let his main squeeze out just a tad closer to the door. Sweet. Inside was a maze of unattended children and befuddled last-minute shoppers looking everywhere for that perfect gift instead of where they were going. Not that I can say much about that one, I was pretty befuddled myself a few days ago. I grabbed my supplies to make my mom’s cookbook and got in line behind 47 other weary shoppers. Why they let the lines get that long and don’t open more registers is beyond me. It’s the three days before Christmas folks, you knew you were gonna be slammed. You were last year and every year in existence since jolly old St. Commercialism got ahold of Christmas. Open more damn registers. My cashier was a nice little mouth-breather who obviously had no idea what she was doing. I’m not sure she knew what planet we’re on. Whatever, I paid for my paint markers and was on my way, threading around the kindly drivers who decided to double park on a one lane road.

On a more upbeat note, I’m finally done with Christmas shopping for my family and hopefully the paint on my cookbook dries in time for me to be off to NYC in the morning to see my cute little mommy. I can’t wait to see her! Fingers crossed for getting up there without any major delays or lost luggage! Merry Christmas!

Things That Make You Go Hmmm…

I went on date #2 with Rica last night. I was hoping he’d grow on me and some chemistry would develop. Honestly, I’m still confused about him.

I met him at his place in Sandy Springs after battling some quarters that didn’t feel like going into the receptacle on 400. (And when did they make 400 a toll road in both directions?) It was a nice place, big. Totally looked like a boy’s home, very sparsely furnished. He took me on a tour and then we left to go see The Blindside. Good movie, not nearly as tear-jerking as I had been led to believe. Afterward we went to Mellow Mushroom to grab a bite to eat. I was back and forth the whole time. Kinda feeling him and kinda not. Conversation was pretty good except for the fact that he takes forever to tell a story.  I was a little tired after dinner and was expecting to get back to his place and go home. When we got there he asked if I wanted to come in and hang out for a little while. Being that it was Saturday night and I had nowhere to be I couldn’t think of a reason not to so I went inside.

We watched TV for a little while and talked some more. He kept inching closer on the couch, no big surprise. Then he asked me if I like massages. Actually I don’t, they kind weird me out and I either get ticklish or they hurt. I’m hoping the professional massage CGN got me for my birthday will cure me of that though. So I told him I didn’t and he kept asking weird questions like how long did I think I could give a massage. Then he kinda flopped down in my lap and wanted me to massage his back. Okay, weird but I half-ass massaged him for a minute. When I stopped he didn’t get up. He just laid there. I think it was his version of breaking the ice. Then he told me that he could only really get comfortable lying in bed and would I like to go watch TV up there. Ummm…. no. I would not. I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea. It’s only the 2nd date, I’m not gonna lay in bed with you dude. So he decided we’d cuddle on the couch instead. That’s cool, who doesn’t like a good cuddle, right? It was nice to be held again. But it was also a little awkward. He kept shifting and couldn’t seem to find a good spot. Then he kissed me. I was okay with it. Didn’t seem inappropriate. I can justify making out on a 2nd date. But then he started groping my ass… a lot. He just kept grabbing it. It wasn’t sexy or caressing, it was just a lot of grabbing. Whatever, maybe he’s out of practice. A few times he tried to move my hand to his junk. The first time I pretended I didn’t notice and pulled my hand away. The second time I actually said, “no, not tonight.” Get a clue dude, I’m not trying to move as fast as you. We stopped making out and chilled for a little while longer on the couch. He must not have been bothered by the fact that he was laying on my arm and it was losing circulation. He didn’t even move to let me sit up when I tried, I think he wanted to try to keep me there. He tried one last time to get me upstairs by saying how much more comfortable it’d be up there and I took that as my cue to leave. I was like “you know I’m pretty tired too so why don’t we just call it a night.”

I know all that makes him sound a tad creepy and it really wasn’t, more awkward than anything else. And the kissing was nice but I couldn’t stay focused. I kept thinking about how I was gonna get home to watch some CSI on my DVR. So it was confusing. I enjoyed kissing him but was thinking of doing other things. *confused head tilt* All the way home I kept going back and forth in my head as to whether or not I should keep seeing him. He’s got a lot to offer, I think he’d be stable, fun, interesting. But at the same time I just don’t have those “I want to see you so bad I’m jumping out of my skin feelings” that I think I need to have. They were there with Sax, they were there with J. Every time the phone rang I hoped it was them, driving to a date with them was like sitting on pins and needles, I couldn’t wait to get there. But while I think Rica would be a good boyfriend, I’m not getting butterflies! Gah! Why do I have to like the ones who are no good for me? J was massively busy and had weird friends, Sax… well that horse has been beat enough. But speaking of Sax I kept having the most bizarre thoughts. I kept comparing Rica’s small thin lips to Sax’s big fluffy ones. Isn’t that the most inane thing to focus on? Why should that matter? There’s a few other things that bother me that shouldn’t. If I continue seeing him it’s gonna cost me a buck every time I see him because he lives right off 400. He is going to buy a dog very soon and is mildly allergic to cats. So it’s gonna be me making that trek to Sandy Springs every time because he’ll have to contend with his dog and he might die if he stays at my place.  He doesn’t like tomatoes. I cook with a lot of tomatoes! I don’t care for his last name. See. Why does that matter? Am I an idiot and being too picky?

At any rate I’ve got two weeks to make up my mind. He’s leaving on Monday for Alabama and I’m booked up through January 1st. There’s a lot that I do like about Rica. But then there are things that bug me that shouldn’t. I don’t know what I’m gonna do though eventually I’ll have to come to some decision. Hmmm…..