Don't I know you from somewhere?

Something random just happened and I have to blog about it.

I'm sitting in my living room, procrastinating over packing for my trip to OREGON that I'm going on TOMORROW. I'm EXCITED. But I hate packing.

I digress. The TV is on and I'm not really paying attention when a commercial comes on. It's a commercial that I haven't seen before yet oddly the person talking sounds vaguely familiar. I glance up and the name of the person is on the screen: Susie. Wait I second, thinks I. That person sounds a lot like the Susie I work with. And they have the same name...holy crap, it is Susie! The commercial was for an online dating site.

A friend from work filmed an advert for an online dating site!! She was talking about how great the site was and how everyone should join, etc. etc. It was amazing. And, it proves that on these adverts they interview actual people that have used the site. And they use their actual names. This has made me evening.

Now I really must pack.

Spring Cleaning

I'm moving in a month. First north with my parents for a brief time, then off to London for grad school. I'm also officially unemployed this week, with absolutely nothing to do. In order to avoid wasting the week in front of the tv watching Grey's Anatomy reruns on Lifetime and eating chips and salsa and cheap wine, I made a schedule. Seriously, I opened up my google calendar and scheduled tasks for the week. I even scheduled my morning run.

My first Major Task of the week was the one I most dreaded. I figured it would be best to do it and get it out of the way: Cleaning out my closet.

Let me explain my closet to you. It's quite large. A walk-in. It's also the only form of storage we have in this crazy apartment, which means that absolutely everything gets thrown in there. Thus, I haven't been able to see the floor in over two years. The word "messy" would be an understatement. The thought of cleaning it out was so daunting that it was the leading factor in why my roommate and I extended the lease on our apartment last year instead of looking for another place that would presumably not turn into a money-sucking sweatbox in the summer. So yeah, cleaning out my closet was not high on my list of fun afternoon activities.

I came up with a game-plan: to pull absolutely everything out of the closet and sort them into three piles: Trash, Donate, and Keep. The donation pile was going to be huge, since I'm moving to another country and am trying to get rid of as much as possible, while the pile of stuff I'm keeping would be a fraction of that size. With a deep breath and my Glee pandora station cranked up, I set out to work. And work I did.

It was sweaty work. My closet has no ventilation, even though I set up my small fan inside the closet. I stopped pulling stuff out every so often in order to sweep the very visible dirt on the floor. I found my missing Rick Steves' travel towel that I couldn't locate last year before Grayer and I went to Costa Rica. I found missing socks and felt the need to apologize to the dryer for blaming it for sock thefts it apparently did not commit. I found 374 plastic shopping bags that I was saving up to make yarn out of for an environmentally friendly crochet project. All the while I kept reminding myself that this was why I have historically moved every 6 months or so. It prevents a mess like this from building up.

Four hours later, I had an amazingly tidy-looking closet that I could actually walk into, and a car chock full of donations to take to the goodwill. I donated several bags of clothes, shoes, sheets, towels, stuffed animals, two sewing machines (yes, I had two sewing machines. One was a miniature one I purchased for small repairs, the other one was given to me second hand, but was broken. Neither of them had been touched since being put in there), and no fewer than 18 pairs of slipper socks, thanks to a strange and most unfortunate slipper sock fetish of both my mother and YFA, who feel the need to include a pair of slipper socks in every Christmas gift or care package. No one needs that many pairs of slipper socks, even if they live in Siberia. One is enough. And now I can't stop staring at my closet. Not only can I see the floor, but I can see the entire floor. I can practically see my reflection in it! (I wet-swiffered.) Maybe I should have done this sooner. I want to give guided tours of it to show it off.

On Tuesday, I took on the second-most daunting task ahead of me: cleaning out my desk. It didn't take nearly as long, but it was evidence of my irrational fear of mail, what with all the unopened mail that was in there. I don't know why, but for some reason, I'm convinced my bank is going to send me a formal letter someday, and put into writing that I don't have any money. As if I can't see that when I look at my account. Note: This irrational fear does not pertain to "friendly" mail from friends and family, just the stuff sent by the bank or insurance company.

And now I have the two worst parts of moving over and done with. I'm feeling really, really good about my week of unemployment. What can I clean out next?

Grown Ups

A weird thing is happening. I'm getting to that age where people are getting married and having babies. This has come around very quickly.

Within the space of a couple of months, 3 people I know have become engaged. The White Horse's best friend's wife has just given birth to a baby. Admittedly I'm younger than all of the aforementioned people, but not by much. All of a sudden I appear to be surrounded by grown ups.

Which was never more apparent then last weekend. TWH asked if I wanted to come along to his friend's birthday. I said OK because I'm trying to meet all of his friends at some point (he has a lot of friends). Now, I knew that his friend was part of a married couple, and I knew they had recently had a baby so the baby would probably be there. I figured I could handle one baby.

Except there wasn't just one baby. There were at least 4 babies plus a couple of toddlers thrown in for good measure. My palms started to sweat. One of the toddlers seemed to be approaching me and I couple feel drops of sweat gathering on my forehead. Here's the thing: babies and young children slightly terrify me. Before you start thinking that I'm some sort of crazy person let me explain. 1. I'm the youngest in my family 2. I have no aunts or uncles, thus no young cousins 3. My older brother doesn't have any children 4. None of my close friends have children 5. I didn't really babysit any children as a teenager, not any very young children anyway. In short, I've never been around babies or toddlers. To me they are the unknown. And I'm convinced they can smell my fear.

And I was surrounded by loads of them. Not only that, I was shown a glimpse into what my life could be like in 5 years time. Where your birthday party comes second to keeping the various children in attendance amused. Where you don't put as much effort into your appearance because your clothes will inevitably be covered in snot / mucus / vomit or something equally disgusting. And, where you need to carry half your life possessions round just to leave the house. It was very surreal.

However, it wasn't as terrifying as I would have thought a couple years ago. Babies still scare me. I still prefer birthday parties where you wake up the next morning not quite remembering what happened the night before and I love not having disgusting bodily fluids on my clothes.

But there's a part of me that's thinking I may yet one day be a grown up.

Yet another wedding story

Big news this week.  My best friend in the whole wide world got engaged!  Yay, Greenley!  I'm so excited/happy/not even the teeniest bit jealous.  Her man is awesome and I approve completely.  But back to my other engaged best friend, 9-year-Lisa and her loser fiancee.  I saw her over the weekend for yet another wedding dress fitting for her August wedding. NOTE: If your friend ever offers to make your wedding dress, say NO! What it will save you in money you will lose in parts of your soul.  And when this homemade dress makes you look like a oompa loompa, you will spend more money rush ordering a real one.  Never ever ever let a friend make your wedding dress (unless you are legitimately friends with Vera Wang, in which case...hook me up).  Also, listen to your brilliant and very pretty bridesmaid, who told you this was an awful idea to begin with.  She (and by she, I mean me) loses parts of her soul every time you call her worrying about your stupid dress when you should have just listened to her in the first place because she knows everything about everything, and she's so pretty.  But I digress.

I told Lisa about Greenley's engagement and said "I feel like everyone I know is engaged."  Two close friends, a co-worker friend, and a couple old colleagues from school have all gotten engaged in the past 5 months, so yes, that's everyone.  Or close enough.  It was just a casual statement, a somewhat overly dramatic casual statement.   It did not merit this completely serious response:

"Ya know, Grayer...my cousin...she's not anywhere near getting engaged...she's not even in a relationship...and she's 27...she's older than you."

"Ummm...What's that have to do with anything? I don't know her."

"Just...don't feel bad that you're not engaged."

Hold the phone!?! Was me stating I knew many engaged couples code for secretly crying about not being engaged with everyone else?! I mean, I'm not even in a relationship!? And I'm 26! I'm going to die aloooone!

Yeah, that's not at all what I was thinking when I said that.  But it's good to know that Lisa's thinking it for me.  What a great pretentiously smug married friend she is.  I know she feels bad for me for not being "anywhere near engaged," but I honestly feel bad for her.  I mean, look at her.  She stayed with a complete schmuck for 9 years just so she could get married in an unflattering homemade dress.  I'm sorry, I have a lot of priorities in my life, and being someone's wife is not one of them.

Bride Wars

My posts do seem to be taking on a wedding theme recently. Sorry about that but it continues..

Firstly, I have some historical news. Last night I was round the White Horse's and...I was allowed to watch a chick-flick. I know. Stop the press. I do realise that of all the chick flicks I could have chosen, Bride Wars isn't the greatest but I was going to take what I could get. It happened to be on. The White Horse and his roommate weren't in the room so I decided to take a risk and not change the channel. It worked. It was amazing.

Of course the subject matter is all about brides and weddings which leads me nicely on to my topic du jour: weddings.

I'm sure you're all wondering how things are between me and Elsa after the Hen Weekend from Hell. They're OK. I was still pretty pissed on the Monday. Matters weren't helped by the fact that Rae was texting me adding fuel to the fire. I was angry. All of a sudden my phone rings (I'm at work) from a flower delivery company asking why I wasn't at home to collect my flowers. Well I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was getting any flowers delivered. I was excited. Immediately I emailed TWH. They weren't from him. Oops. I jokingly text Rae to find out if she thought Elsa may have sent them. She replied basically asking if hell had frozen over. Huh. I arranged to have the flowers re-delivered on Tuesday morning and pondered over who had sent them to me.

That night I get a text from Elsa. She apologised somewhat for her behaviour over the weekend and thanked me for making the weekend fun for her friends. That was nice. But I would've preferred her to pick up the phone or come round to see me, but beggers can't be chosers. I replied asking if she was the one that sent me the flowers. She was. Sweet. But here's the thing, she didn't send Rae any flowers. I got them as did the other two bridesmaids but according to Elsa, Rae didn't deserve any flowers. Huh. This put me in an awkward situation. Rae knew that I had been sent flowers. I said that TWH hadn't sent them. Rae wasn't going to get any flowers. The drama. I told Elsa that if Rae asked I was going to say that TWH sent them but wanted it to be a surprise (he loved how he got credit for doing nothing!) She wasn't happy about that but by then I was past caring. I'm done with the drama.

Moving on, Elsa and I are OK. We went out on Friday with our respective guys and we had fun. The hen weekend wasn't mentioned. My next dilemma is an email that Elsa sent all the bridesmaids today. No one has replied. I think they're all still pissed at her. Do I reply first thus not showing my allegiance to the other bridesmaids? I decided to text Elsa to say I got the email. I feel less pressure now. Whew.

But oh no ladies, the wedding talk isn't done yet! The Monday after the hen weekend my friend from work who has recently got engaged asked to speak to me. I figured it was to ask me ever so nicely to shut up about talking about the horrible hen weekend as I was probably giving her nightmares about hers. But oh no, I have been asked to be an 'honorary bridesmaid'.

What is an honorary bridesmaid I hear you ask? Basically, my friend needs to have her female family members as bridesmaids (it's a family thing). She's not too happy about that but she realises that it's not worth the fight with her parents. However, she wanted her friends to be her bridesmaids. So she's decided to have four of her friends (yours truly included) as honorary bridesmaids where we get to do all the fun bridesmaids stuff but just not stand at the front during the ceremony. I can deal with that. And with her I am confident that there will be no bridezilla antics.

I just can't understand why the producers of Bridesmaids didn't give me a call.

Hollywood Lies

Friday was my last day as a regularly-employed nanny. Can I get a what WHAT?! No more will I have to be threatened with bodily harm by an 8-year-old. No longer will I be blamed for things that are in no way, shape, or form my fault. No longer will I be treated like a servant and be expected to clean up after an entire family. Needless to say, it was time to celebrate.

I went out with McNerdy and my roommate for food and pitchers of cheap beer. We had a fantastic time getting drunk and me ranting about the problems of children being in therapy. Then we decided to move on to another spot for a nightcap. For the first time in ages, I returned to the scene of the crime. The same tiny bar where the cute neighbor told me he didn't want to be just my fake boyfriend anymore, and where I pushed Fenella into the bathroom and held her hostage while I peed and told her what had just happened and after which I went running across the street to knock on the cute neighbor's door at 2am for a film-worthy passionate kiss. And then I got really sad.

I was sad because according to the movies, that was the beginning of our happily ever after. In Two Weeks Notice, Sandra Bullock went running down the street after Hugh Grant for the same passionate kiss. In Notting Hill, Hugh Grant went racing all over London to find Julia Roberts and tell her he had been a "daft prick" and win her back. In Love Actually, Prime Minister Hugh Grant went door-to-door looking for Natalie, before also ending things in a passionate kiss at the school Christmas show. And then they all lived happily ever after. It was very easy. They didn't have geography to deal with; one half of the couple didn't move to one side of the world for work while the other went to the other side of the world for grad school. They were all very successful and the economy was booming, and they just chose to live happily ever after and never had to deal with these kinds of issues.

This tells me one thing: Hugh Grant is a liar. In real life, even if you have a Hollywood ending as a beginning, that doesn't mean you won't be searching for solutions to find the time and money to see your significant other before you leave the country. It doesn't guarantee you'll be together every Saturday night until the end of time. And my missing him that much caused me to have a dream last night where he spontaneously decided to come visit, let himself into my house, then my bedroom, and then my bed while I was sleeping. And then a lizard walked across my bedroom floor on its hands. (Do lizards even have hands?!)

Lies! They are all lies! I don't want to be Will and Viola from Shakespeare in Love, with a heartbreaking, inter-continental separation and forced marriage to an alarmingly un-charming Colin Firth with a stupid dangly earring! I want to be George and Lucy from Two Weeks' Notice, with witty banter and our own helicopter.

It's devastating to learn that my favorite romantic comedies are all lies. Maybe that's the next thing Grayer and I should put on our list of money-making schemes: Realistic romantic comedy. Or pick up where the movie left off to include arguments, complications, and infertility. I think there would be a huge demographic ready for that.

And on a separate note, this is the last in my series of "I'm so sad I miss the cute neighbor" posts. I think I've had sufficient enough time to move on to something funnier and more positive. I promise. Thanks for bearing with me.

How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying

As Grayer mentioned, her palm reader indicated that she would be in for a major life change at the age of 55, one of the possibilities of those changes being that we will finally make it big with one of our money making schemes. It's true. Grayer and I have no fewer than 27 money making schemes up our sleeves, although I don't know why we call them "schemes." They're not schemes so much as poorly thought out business plans. And while I would love to list all those plans here, they're really good ideas, and I don't want anyone to steal them. (Obviously I trust everyone who reads this blog regularly with my life, but I don't want to be the Winklevoss twins to your Mark Zuckerberg. Although, come to think of it, I would totally take that multi-million dollar settlement...) Anyway, Grayer and I don't have a problem coming up with ideas. It's the follow-through (probably due to our complete lack of business know-how) that we have a problem with.

Until last week, when I came up with the most perfect, sure-fire, can't-fail idea yet. I was at work, working as a nanny (possibly the worst job on the planet), counting down the days until the job is over (TODAY!) and wondering how on earth I managed to take two different nanny jobs and get possibly the two worst families in the city to work for. I mean, I hear stories about people who really love the families they work for, but I have certainly not had that experience. Then it hit me. I will write my experiences down in a book. Obviously, this is not a new concept, and I had thought of it all before, but suddenly everything became much clearer. The concept, the story-telling, the plot-line, everything was suddenly there. I actually forgot that I had two kids in the backseat of my car my mind was working so fast.

As soon as I got back to their house, I grabbed the first piece of paper I found (graph paper) and started furiously scribbling down ideas while pretty much continuing to ignore the children. (They have video games, they only need me to drive them around and feed them.) I was so excited, I texted both Grayer and the cute neighbor to tell them I wouldn't have to worry about paying back my impending grad school loans, as it was sure to be a best seller. I got an equally enthusiastic response from Grayer, as I knew I would. I did not receive a response from the cute neighbor.

When I talked to him later that evening, I was seriously disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm for my future Pulitzer Prize winner. "It takes a lot of time to write a book," was his response. Seriously? I called him out on his non-enthusiasm, and he went on to talk about how much goes into getting something published (he's an academic, so he has papers published all the time). I was pretty pissed off. I mean, there's a 97% chance that I will never have anything published, but throw me a bone here. If anything, this is only motivating me more. I just want to prove to him that I can do it.

Before you go condemning the cute neighbor, just know that afterward I told him exactly how I felt about his lack of support, to which he apologized profusely, and told me that I should do it, especially later in the summer when I'll be at home at my parents' house with absolutely nothing else to do while I wait to start grad school. And I will. Look for it at a bookstore near you.

Do It Like a Dude

Last night I went on a date with The Bouncer. No, I'm not into him. I wasn't into him before when I was several beers in each time I saw him, and I definitely wasn't into him last night when I was sober. But he had nagged me over a long period of time (because apparently he doesn't realize that when a girl "drops off the face of the earth", it means she's not into you) and I'm apparently too nice. So I agreed thinking I'd at least get dinner out of it. I didn't even get dinner out of it?!?!? We split two (weak) appetizers at a place that took forever to get to because he insisted on driving but then got road rage when he couldn't find a parking spot. So unattractive. This is Boston, you don't need to drive!!! The worst part of dating is not the dealing-with-douchebags, it is the pretending-to-have-a-good-time, which is downright exhausting. And then when he dropped me off he seemed pissed as I got out of the car without kissing/inviting him in. Ugh. Move along, brother.

In other news, I'm still seeing Financial Frank. The birthday booty call was just the tip of the iceberg. Let me make one thing clear: Frank and I are just sleeping together. We've talked about how we're just sleeping together. We're both content with this arrangement and have said how we just need to be open and honest about the situation. He even said "No disappearing." That's right, we actually talked about our relationship. Mark this down as the first time ever that I actually know what the hell is going on in one of my relationships. We do enjoy sleeping together, we do actually enjoy spending time together in bed, but once I leave his house I don't talk to him for days. It's kind of, well, awesome. Of course, we are free to date other people but I couldn't be sure how I felt about this until he told me he was going on a date last week. Get this: I didn't care! Not even a hint of jealousy! Not even a saying-I-don't-care-but-then-actually-caring thing. I was actually in a really good mood after he confided this. I felt free, I felt liberated, I felt like a dude. Finally, I've figured out the secrets to casual sex. Finally! I'm an adult!

In the past, I've had to make some rules to get around this. A strict no cuddling rule (Conrad, get your hand off my leg!) was needed to not confuse me. But with Frank, we cuddle all the time. We talk, we cuddle, and then go another round. When I told Violet of this relationship she said, "wow, you're really not into him then." But that's not entirely true. He's a cool guy, he's fun, he makes me laugh, he's good in bed. The difference is, I don't want anything else from him. I'm completely satisfied with our relationship and want nothing more. We're not friends with benefits, because we're not friends. And until this totally backfires in my face (and yes, I realize that's a very real possibility), this may be the healthiest/ most honest relationship I've ever had.

The jack of diamonds

Yesterday, I had a palm reading.  Don't be jealous.  It was a perk at my employee appreciation picnic (that and a ton of food and games).   I stood in line with a coworker for a good 30 minutes for a 2 minute reading.  It was worth it.  Apparently, I have very "funny" hands.

First of all, according to my astrology, I'm a Jack of Diamonds.
"This is the salesman's card. These people are sharp, clever and always able to make a good living using their wits and charm. They are very independent and creative, and operate as much from their instincts as they do from their quick and creative minds. The Jack of Diamonds has great power to persuade others.  Many are artistically inclined and some are even gifted.  All Jacks can be immature and crafty, due to their vast creativity and they usually mean well even when they are not able to come through on their promises. They love to play and even in old age retain a certain youthful quality.  Freedom is an important element in their lives on all levels.  Jack of Diamonds are caring and considerate, especially of those who they feel are part of their 'family'. They know how to get along with others and usually do. Their natural charm can make them very effective with others."

So that's why I'm so dang charming and persuasive!  Secondly, she takes a look at my hands.   My hands are cute and sweet but I'm not, she says.  I am a force to be reckoned with.  (Damn straight). I have very flexible fingers, which makes me "very funny",  I'm all over the place and not easily held down.  My thumb tells her that I am bossy.   She keeps telling me how funny I am. I don't know if it means I'm funny personally or my hand is funny. 

As far as lines go, I have a strong business line (the sales person in me) and a good career line, with a big change at the age of around 55 (early retirement hopefully? or finally starting a money making scheme with Violet).  One line shows relationship drama (Jack of diamonds are players, and I am no different) and low and behold, I have a marriage line (Hallelujah!!!).   Her exact words were "And here's your marriage line, you're going to have one nutso marriage"  Nutso?  What exactly does that mean??  "It will be crazy, your a Jack of Diamonds, you wouldn't be happy if it wasn't a little nutso!  You can't have a regular old marriage! You'd be bored!"  She then flung her feather boa over her should and wished me a good day.  

This is even better then my Tarot reading!  Personality wise, she's pretty spot on.  I am cute and sweet, but girrrrl, you better watch yourself before you mess with me or my family!  And as for that bossy thumb, well, I am my mother's daughter.  I can be pretty persuasive, particularly with the male variety, some would even call me charismatic.  Am I a player?  More so than some, relationship drama does seem to be a recurring theme too.  And can I get a What What! for a marriage line?! Here I had been worried that I had ruined my chances by stabbing myself with a knife in my marriage line (wrong hand, they read the one you write with).  But now I've got a "nutso" marriage coming my way.  Awesome...I think.  

Hen Hell

I'm sure you have all been anxiously awaiting news on how the hen weekend went.

Not good.

The plan for the weekend was as follows:

Friday Night
Arrive at destination.
Grab some dinner.
Change into pj's for a slumber party in the hotel complete with wine, pizza and hen weekend games.

Saturday
Explore destination.
Go for lunch.
Free time to do as you please.
Karaoke session.
More hen games back at the hotel.
Night out.

Sunday
Recover from previous night and head home.

The outcome?

Friday Night
All went more or less to plan. Elsa (bride to be) may have got upset because one of the girls staying wanted to go out. All the girls knew the plan but Elsa was stressing anyway. She then proceeded to throw up, pass out and then recover announcing at around 1am that she wanted to go out. A couple girls went out with her.

Saturday
Started according to plan: explored destination, went for lunch, had some free time. I had a fish pedicure. It is one of the strangest things.

And then we headed to karaoke. Now, Elsa didn't know any of the plans because it was supposed to be a surprise. We arrive at the karaoke destination and she immediately scowls. We enter the karaoke place and the scowling continues. She didn't participate at all. In fact, she sat for 2 hours on her phone the entire time. Myself and the other bridesmaids sang pretty much every song to try and keep things going. I can't sing.

On leaving the venue the bridesmaid and I had a rant about her behaviour. It was obvious that we weren't in the best of moods but cheered up pretty quickly because we wanted to make the most of the weekend. On the way back to the hotel Rae announces, with Elsa present, that we're not going to the club we had originally planned on going to because Elsa didn't want to. We wanted to make her happy so readily agreed.

Back at the hotel we drank and ate and then headed out. Everything was fine until we arrived at the club that Elsa had gone out to the night before. We thought that was a good option because she had said how much she liked it. We were wrong. She said that she didn't want to go there because she'd been there before, we didn't know her at all, we hadn't planned the weekend, we didn't care what she wanted, blah, blah, blah. We did our best to reason with her. We failed. She stood outside the club, in front of everyone that had spent money and travelled down for the weekend screaming and crying at us.

Eventually we managed to get her into the club where she sat on her phone. One bridesmaid was so angry she left for the hotel. Another one followed suit. Elsa and I managed to make up but every time I left her and Rae alone they were screaming at each other. Which meant I couldn't leave until they were separated. (There's a sub story about these two but it's best not to go there). This all resulted in me not getting to bed until 5.30am.

The next day it wasn't discussed. Myself and the other bridesmaids have yet to receive a thank you or an apology for her childish behaviour. According to Rae who was staying at Elsa's before she headed back to Scotland we don't need an apology because she's buying us dresses for her wedding. An interesting argument. My response? (In my head, not to her)

1. Her behaviour was unnecessary and unacceptable
2. She ruined the evening for people that had travelled a long way
3. She asked us to plan the weekend and said to do what we wanted
4. It's extremely difficult to plan a hen weekend, especially when people have different budgets
5. Her friends paid for her weekend. She didn't have to pay for the hotel or the activities. That's some thank you.
6. We went to a lot of effort organising everything
7. She says that she told us that she didn't like karaoke. She mentioned that to me once, in passing and we'd booked it. The karaoke was in a private room so there were no strangers. And it was never about people singing and everyone listening. It was about people getting to know each other whilst singing and dancing around like idiots
8. A thank you would be nice

According to Rae though, she doesn't think she has anything to apologise for. Needless to say, I am pretty hurt after this weekend and, should I ever get married she won't be one of my bridesmaids.

I'll take the higher ground. I'll upload photos to Facebook. I'll think of nice things to do on her wedding day. I'll listen to all the wedding talk. But I don't give two hoots about it at the moment.

But it's over with. That's something.

The Funk

I'm in a funk. Ever since the cute neighbor left, my weekends have been awfully exciting (insert sarcastic face). Now, I realize that even with the cute neighbor, my weekends weren't always totally hip and happening (as we sometimes stayed in to watch baseball and listened to NPR in the mornings), but at least there was sex involved. And cuddling. This weekend, however, was just plain sad.

Friday night. I pick up a Whole Foods dinner on my way home from work, and am a bit too excited to be listening to a local radio station's Big 90s Weekend. I'm a huge fan of their playing nothing but 90s music on the weekends, as it reminds me of my coming of age. It also makes me feel old. At home, I sit on the couch and eat said Whole Foods dinner while watching my latest addiction: America's Got Talent. I know what you're thinking: LAME! But before you go judging me for watching it, watch these cuties, who are the cutest things I've ever seen. And Nick Cannon is way cooler than Ryan Seacrest, although I have to look away for the really bad auditions. At least on Idol, the bad ones are only in front of three judges, as opposed to an auditorium full of people. I kept bursting into tears all evening, which I told myself was because of the emotions of watching these people realize their dreams, but was in reality about something else entirely. And that was Friday night.

On Saturday, I was awake way too early, did some pilates, watched some tv, got my car detailed in preparation to sell it, and looked into moving vehicles. Around 4 or 5 pm, my boss called to see if there was any way I could baby-sit that night. Sadly, I had absolutely no other plans, so I agreed, but only because it would be late enough that the kids would be sleeping the whole time I was there. I got a lot of reading done. At 11pm, she called to see if I could stay for another hour. No, that's not a problem at all, I told her. I have only an empty bed and a cat who pulls out his own hair to go home to. All I wanted to do was go home and cuddle with the cute neighbor, but that wasn't an option.

I realize that I could have called somebody up to hang out, but I just didn't want to. I really couldn't think of anybody I felt like hanging out with that was actually within driving distance. This is something that I have simply got to snap out of; I can't feel sorry for myself. It could be a lot worse.

I was a bit better today. I went to the pool with some friends, and I'm hanging out with Rebecca this evening for a movie and take-out. I need to force myself out of this funk. Otherwise, there will be a lot of long, lonely weekends in my future.

Here Come the Hens!

This weekend is The Hen Weekend. I'm feeling a bit of trepidation about it. I am excited about it, really I am. Honest. It's just very nerve wracking because I helped to organise it. So if something goes wrong, tears are shed, the bride to be goes off with a guy she shouldn't (she wouldn't would she?) then I will feel responsible / might receive the blame. This is a lot of pressure people.

Also, can I just forewarn all females the perils of planning a hen weekend. Tread carefully. My issues have been:

1. Trying to remain 100% excited when around the bride and talking about the hen weekend. Whilst it's important to me it's not the most important thing in my life happening at this moment in time. I understand for her the hen weekend (and wedding) is.

2. It's not very pleasant to ask a number of girls who you don't know for £200. And then when they don't pay you on time having to chase them for the money.

3. Getting on with the other bridesmaids. My friend has four bridesmaids. Myself and Rae are friends already. The other two bridesmaids are friend's of Elsa's from school. So it's a little bit two against two. Problem is, Rae lives in Scotland so hasn't been involved in the planning. Cue me feeling like the third wheel. I got annoyed when the two of them used our planning emails to email about the holiday they're going on. And even more annoyed when one of them treated me like her secretary.

4. The bride to be doesn't know what's happening during the weekend. She is not a patient person. I've struggled to remain chipper when she sends texts / updates her Facebook status wondering what's going on. A tip: don't tell the bride to be that she has zero patience and that's not an attractive quality. Even if you're joking.

To top it off, this week has been a not so good week at work. I'm shattered, I have two mouth ulcers and I can't wear my contact lenses so feel like a 12 year old in my glasses.

But I'm looking forward to the weekend. Honest.

Well-endowed

If you're one of those people who has never dated online, you're pretty much missing out.  I'm going to share some secrets with you.  Sometimes, when on such a classy establishment as OkCupid, you get messages that can only be considered a gift due to the profile that it leads to (And sometimes the message itself is a gift, check out this site for endless examples).  A "Hey there pretty smile, I think we'd have a lot in common" and a 47% match/47% enemy rating makes me whole-heartedly interested (I want to date a "bad" match just to see how bad it is).  The below is taken directly from a profile of a 21 year old who messaged me.  I have a feeling this guy is right up there with the thigh guy. 

Self Summary

NOTE: I do not date thin or skinny girls. I prefer girls with meat on them, but not too much. Proportional. HOWEVER, if you are a full-figured girl I will give you a chance to persuade me. There are plenty of full-figured girls out there with big curves up-top and a manageable middle curve. I WILL NOT DATE anyone who: uses drugs, smokes, drinks more than socially, has any kids, has not gone beyond high school or is otherwise in a dead-end life.

That being said, I am a very caring, devoted, fun-loving person who give his all to make a relationship work but, I need to know that you will do the same. I can like you, love you and devote my entire life to you but I will not waste my time if I do not feel you are equally connected to me. I'm looking for a real girl who is more than just what appears on her profile. I need to be attracted to her both intellectually and physically for anything to spark between us. I know what I'm looking for, and I AM living proof that chivalry is not dead. The greatest gift you could ever give me is your love and I wish to receive that gift everyday. I just want you to know, whoever you are that I will be there for you in any way you need. Not simply to calm you down, but because I care about you and cannot be happy until I know that you are too.

I have been involved in community volunteer work for about ten years. I am also passionate about improving the environment and making sure it is safe for future generations.

Please send me a message if you are interested in me or not. Also, if you are not interested and I have favorited you, kindly provide an email saying why you don't think we'd make a good match. Again, chivalry is not dead, remember that

What I’m doing with my life

Right now I am taking time off from school to volunteer at my local hospital. I needed to take this break for personal reasons, and will let you know why if I feel close enough to you.

The first things people usually notice about me

I am very quiet at first, but that's usually a sign of me crafting something to say. Sometimes I'm sneaky with my quietness. I'm always the guy that people can hang out with, and will stay with a person well after a party is over to so that he/she can let out some steam. Other than that, I have good tastes and my voice can sometimes veer towards monotone

You should message me if

...you're a curvy cutie who knows about what's going on in the world. I'm attracted to girls who like to have fun, but also take time to admire the simple things in life. Intelligence and physical fitness are must haves for me.

NOTE: I realize curvy can be a confusing term. I'm looking for a girl who has big curves up top, and less so a curve in the middle. Well-endowed, if you will.


Dear Mr. Curve Hugger, 
Thanks for the message.  I really like quiet guys who speak in monotone. It's great that you've been volunteering full time since you were 11, I'm sure your mother (whom I assume you still live with) is very proud of you.  I'm assuming you messaged me because of window shopping my pictures.  Yes, I do have curves on top as you may see, but you should know that I was wearing Spanx in those pictures, therefore my middle curves may be larger than they appear.  In my opinion they are "manageable" but I'm not sure if you'd agree, curvy is a confusing term, but I'd like to think I'm well-endowed?  Maybe I can send you my measurements and you can decide for yourself.  Look forward to hearing from you. 
Grayer

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Birthday booty called

Yesterday, I turned 26.  Not only did Violet send me an e-card, so did OkCupid (yes, I'm still on it, and details will be coming soon).  They sent me a picture of a cupcake.  They said, "Happy Birthday Grayer!  Still single?" Hence, the one lone cupcake.  They changed my age on OkCupid for me.  I'm no longer mid-twenties.  I'm mid-late twenties.  Ugh.  Is this a marketing strategy?  To remind patrons that they are older and still alone??  Thanks, I hadn't noticed.  Birthdays aren't as fun as they used to be, but before I get too wistful about my mom making me waffles for breakfast and bringing cupcakes into school, we must remember the single greatest birthday gift a singleton like myself can receive: Birthday Booty.

Yesterday was a normal day, except for the fact that I inexplicably woke up too early and my hair looked fantastic.  I worked a long ass day and came home with just enough time to be sung to over the phone by the parentals, before my guests arrived.  I decided against an obligatory dinner out with friends and instead chose to have a few girl friends over for a craft night.  An apron-making party.  (If you've never heard of this, it's because it's not a thing.  But I do highly recommend it). They brought me flowers and wine, I provided them with cute fabric and a pattern.  We went to work in my kitchen.  We worked and worked until it was suddenly 10:30 pm, we hadn't even started the sewing yet, and I had obligations to attend to.  I shooed them out of my house with promises of finishing later this week and made a mad dash to Financial Frank's.

When you show up at a guy's house at 11 pm, you're there for one thing and you both know it.  He however, was still watching the Bachelorette with his roommate (he lives with 3 girls, 3 hot girls).  I sat down with them and in 15 minutes I was sucked in and calling all men douchebags (Don't even get me started on Bentley!).   Frank was pleased that I could bond with his roommate via men-bashing, but also impressed that I think girls are idiots too (Honestly Ashley, you knew him for a week, stop crying already!).  We eventually got back to his room where he made all my birthday wishes come true.  Seriously, that was the one thing I wanted for my birthday and what I wanted from Financial Frank.   A booty call.  It's not slutty because it's my birthday.  Obviously.  And at least this year I won't be crippled with a hangover the next morning (although I did briefly fall asleep at work today, I had a really late night).

So here's to being 26.  May it be a year full of great hair days, fabulous crafty friends, and enough sober booty to go around.

Happy Birthday, Grayer!

It's that time of year again! Time for us to shower Grayer with birthday wishes, presents, baked goods, cards, and drinks. In honor of your special day, I've compiled a list of things you can do today, just because it's your birthday:

1. Eat cake. All day. You can eat it for breakfast if you want to. The calories don't count. Because it's your birthday.
2. Let everyone come to you. You don't need to call, text, or email anyone today. They'll call you. Because it's your birthday.
3. Get free drinks. There is no reason why you should buy a single drink today. Everyone should buy you a drink. Because it's your birthday.
4. Look absolutely fabulous. Obviously, you look absolutely fabulous everyday, but today, you're going to kick it up a notch. Because it's your birthday.
5. You don't need to listen to tales of someone else's drama. Today, you can just talk about YOU. Because it's your birthday.
6. Get birthday booty. Every other day, it's just... booty. But today it's birthday booty. Go get yourself some! (But please be responsible.)
7. Eat whatever you want. Besides the cake, you can eat anything you want. You choose the dinner location. Like it says in #1, the calories don't count today. Because it's your birthday.
8. Check facebook every 5 minutes to see who has wished you a happy birthday and unfriend those who don't. Time to see who your real friends are!
9. Stay out late on a Monday night. Because it's your birthday.
10. Ignore phone calls from YFA. Oh, wait. You do that all year. My bad.

So please, go out and enjoy all of the above things. Because it's your birthday.

Just peachy

I'm fine. Really, everybody. I'm fine. I'm not about to jump off a bridge. I'm not thinking about staying under the covers for weeks on end. Besides, it's too hot for that. My boyfriend moved out of town. Yes, I'm sad about it, and Tuesday was a really rough day, but he didn't dump me, nor did he die.

Don't get me wrong. I really appreciate that there are people out there who care. It was really very sweet of my co-worker, who has a family of her own and is thus very busy, to offer to take me to a movie this week as a distraction. I was really touched. It was also really nice of The Umpire, whom I haven't heard from in ages, to call me on Wednesday to see how I was doing. Unfortunately, I just happened to be watching The Daily Show on the couch with ice cream and wine. The same co-worker just sent me an email to let me know she was thinking of me and she hopes I'm having a good weekend. I'm really touched that people care, but again, I'm not suicidal.

The two people I would have guessed would be more concerned about the situation, but who haven't said much of anything are my parents. The only question my mom has asked was if we were going to "stay in touch," as if we were penpals. Yes, mom. We're going to remain facebook friends and maybe send each other a Christmas card. When it comes to not prying in her daughters' lives, my mother is an artist. Being interested is not prying, mom!

Anyway, I've been trying to keep myself busy with the cute neighbor gone. I went to the library yesterday to get some movies and fluffy, mindless chick-lit. I really wanted a new Meg Cabot or Sophie Kinsella book, but I had read all of Meg, and the only new Sophie's they had were Shopaholic, and I just can't relate to her. (I find her increasing debt frustrating. I'm a bit too practical with money for that one.) So I just started perusing the shelves for books with dark pink covers and a high heel on the spine. I found one, of course, but after 15 pages or so, I'm a bit annoyed. Chick-lit, when done well, is awesome. When done poorly, it's a bit unbearable.

My attempts to stay busy have also created a new obsession with peaches. A sweet, juicy peach is one of the great things in life, and now that it's high peach season, I want to take advantage of it. Last night I made some peach salsa, and this morning, peach-blueberry smoothies. It looked gross (a bit pukey) but tasted absolutely delicious. Tomorrow I'm thinking peach cobbler. If you have any good peach recipes, please send them to me.

So yes, my boyfriend moved out of town. Yes, I really miss him already. But we're constantly talking/texting/emailing, so it's not as if he was just completely removed from my life. I very much appreciate the emails/texts/phone calls, and I hope they keep coming (if for no other reason than I just like hearing from people), but no need to put me on suicide watch. I'm just peachy...