Age ain't nothin' but a number

So, MMM was being his usual smug married self, and explaining his theory on aging to Kaia and I. In short, his position is your life is over at 25. After that, you start working, paying rent, having real responsibilities...etc.

Well, with all due respect (however little that is), Kaia and I whole-heartedly disagree. To Kaia, 25 is when you first start gaining a sense of self. To me, numerical age isn't what makes you old...it's what you do and when. Allow me to explain.

At 25, martamack became married martamack. At 29 (give or take a year -- I wasn't really listening) married martamack became Al Bundy (that is, married with child(ren)). Well, this, my friends, is what makes you old. Marriage is the end of your single social life (which is vastly different from a couple-d social life). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say an engagement and/or giving away your milk (you know, euphemistically living together) is the end of your single social life. It's the end of great stories like Snowflake, and Drunk Natalie, ooh! and remember the guy that was gay but didn't know it? and other such entertaining nonsense that goes on. It's probably the end of meeting new and interesting people. (Unless, of course, you go about meeting couples). And then kids. Well, that's the end of a social life altogether. Have you ever seen someone with children stay out past midnight or so? Because I haven't.

So, I'll thank you not to call me old. I still have my single social life perfectly intact. I don't have anyone that I have to check in with, and make sure I go to the A-bar with my road dogs. And for that matter, I still have road dogs. So yes, while being single can be stressful at times (i.e. when I need a date for the wedding, when the guy you're dating is being a total girl and giving you the silent treatment (ahem, that means you boxer!!!), and when you're in the mood to go to a romantic restaurant but can't find anyone to go, the list goes on); it's the life I'm into right now. And really? It's keeping me young. (Of course, at some point I will be too old for such nonsense. Now is so very not that time).

There's a reason why the saying is "young and carefree" and NOT "old and carefree". There's also a reason why people keep calling ages the "new" decade. (50 is the new 30, 40 is the new 30, 30 is the new 20). Because people are feeling younger later in life -- which happens to coincide nicely with people waiting until later in life to get shackled...er....married and have babies.

Eat your heart out...I'm still young!!! ;)

Secret Agent (Wo)Man...

As it turns out, I did not get to flex my double agent muscles this weekend. But it was a heck of a lot of fun leading up to it. Here's what happened:

So, as many of you know, I am/was embroiled in a disagreement/reverse/island-kicking-offing moment with the boxer. I am also in the process of platonic/romantic/platonic-again relationship defining moment with bottle-service guy (who will be henceforth known as Snowflake). Well, this weekend, I attempted to elevate my level of pimp-tress and scheduled dates with both of them on Friday. (Yes, yes I really did attempt it).

First, the boxer and I re-established communication on Thursday. In an effort to make myself more available, and less neurotic, I suggested we get together after he left work on Thursday. I was even going to drive to meet him. (I know, I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, alright?). But, because I am an early to bed kinda girl, it didn't work out. As an alternative, he invited me to meet him out with his friends on Friday. So I agreed...and then I enlisted Kaia to go with me, so she could also take advantage of the boxer's potentially cute friends.

A couple hours later, I receive a text message from Snowflake, letting me know he had dinner plans in my approximate side of town, and wanted to know if I wanted to meet up afterwards. Well, I texted back that I already had plans, but if he got out of dinner early enough, I could probably do both. Naturally, I only told him the part of the plan where I was meeting up with Kaia (I left out the part where Kaia and I were going to meet up with the boxer and his friends).

Well, as per usual, Snowflake flaked out. (Hence the new name). I was kinda sad about that, because I couldn't be a double-agent as previously planned. However, I still had the pseudodate with the boxer. (HA! Remember pseudodate? I wonder whatever happened to him?) Anyway, that also failed to happen! Now, the boxer has never failed to follow through. He's given me the silent treatment, and other childish things, but never flat-out flaked. This time, though, I called him and asked where he would be. He said Leona's for dinner, and then out to Wrigley. I told him I would text him when we were on our way. Well, I never found out where in Wrigley they were. He never texted, and never called.

Of course, I got really annoyed as the night went on. But my irritation was tempered by the fact that Kaia and I ended up at the bar where Afroguy works, and he was there! Hooray flirting with increasingly-adorable-with-alcohol Afroguy! He totally recognized me, which was surprising. He asked Kaia and I to stick around and party at the A-bar when he got off work, but honestly, we weren't that down.

Anyway, the boxer and I exchanged text messages the next day. He alleges that he told me 50 times which bar they were at. I potentially didn't get the texts, because the very same night, Snowflake claimed to have sent me 4 texts, but I only got 1. So now, the boxer and I are embroiled in another disagreement, but I have no idea what to do about this one. Do I bother making an effort (if for no other reason than to have the last word), or do I just cut my losses because it will probably always be difficult putting up with this dude's ego? Knowing me and my track record, I will probably end up calling or texting again, just because I have to have the last word. If I'm going out, I'm going out making sure he knows exactly how right I am. (Such is my fatal flaw ;}).

The Reverse

I am a HUGE sucker for the reverse. As you all know, I have had island security escort the boxer to the dock. As you also know, I suck at the clean break, and therefore there was probably going to be a reversal of my decision. But, this did not occur.

Instead, the boxer pulled the reverse on me. You know this move. First, you are sooooooo bitter and angry and ticked and such. Then, you express that bitterness in one way shape or form. So then, the person who is the object of your anger does not respond properly with remorse and or apologies. And then, this is the killer move. Then they, as if by magic, are angry at and or ignoring you! Sometimes you don't even know why. So now, you're all kinds of distressed and wanting to know what you did. And boom! Thus shifted the power in the relationship. You have totally lost the game of chicken you were previously winning.

As always, I totally fell for this move. And the boxer is currently winning the game of chicken by a full touchdown. I am dying to know the meaning of his last text message. And he blew off my last phone call; and so I still don't have an explanation. Arrrgh! I hate the reverse. Someday I'm going to find the anecdote for it... :). Until then, I have no clue what I'm gonna do. Do I call again? Do I text again? Do I cut my losses and wave goodbye to the boat?

Oops I did it again...

I have a shopping problem. This is not new to anyone who has known me for more than 6 minutes. But, the holidays are a time for me to use my powers for good rather than evil. So I can spend hours upon hours in a mall shopping for the perfect gift. A gift I've always enjoyed giving. But, the holidays are also a time when evil retail empires mark things down to ridiculously low, can't beat it, must have it prices. So, I always find something I must purchase for myself, and I can't just ask for it for Christmas because I already turned in my list and I have no one on my roster who has that kind of cash to drop on a present for me. So, I resisted this weekend, but I very nearly purchased a fabulous top for myself this weekend. And I totally would've bought it. But they were out of my size. Phew! Close call. I can't promise that I won't be tempted again. But I'm going to try really hard to avoid it by not going to the stores. Unless it's really really necessary. ;)

/\ /\

Today, I saw the weirdest looking makeup job ever. I've never really understood why some women shave off their eyebrows and then repaint them with an eyebrow pencil. Well today, I stand completely confused. This chick on the eL had not only shaved off her eyebrows, but she also drew some on in a color that was more charcoal than black. And, they had a little bit of a stretched-out-upside-down "V" vibe to them. And then, on top of that, she drew them all the way into her nose area. It was so freaky! Man, people are so weird.

Nextel. Done.|

The boxer is so very off the island. Not officially. Officially, he is standing on the local dock, awaiting his transportation. Why? Because he PISSED. ME. OFF. Here's what happened:

Yesterday, we had our third date. We hung out at my house and watched (yes, actually watched!) a movie. When he first got there, he told me he didn't think we were spending enough time together, in order to get to know each other. I told him this was the most time I'd ever spent with anyone I was dating (for the most part), since usually I was dating someone who lived in a different city than myself. Anyway, I found this all incredibly adorable.

So today, in an effort to offer him more of my time as requested, I txt'ed him to ask him if he wanted to go to dinner tomorrow. His response is "Are you cooking?". In my head, I'm thinking "Are you effen kidding?" What I say instead is, no, but how about coffee. So he says, and I quote, "Lol. No, dinner is fine. I don't drink coffee nor am i a baller sweety. [sic]" Well, excuuuuuuuuuuuuse me. First of all, we split the bill on our first date. Second of all, I offered to split on our second date. And third of all, I bought his @#$*%! dinner last night. So, thankyouverymuch, suck it up and pay for dinner tomorrow. Moreover, what kind of place do you think I would want to go to? Fogo de Chao? Anyway, I'll be d***ed if we fall into the habit of all our dates being "hanging out" at my place. This is the early stages, and YOU should still be courting. Anyway, all of that wouldn't fit in a text, so I said, "what kind of golddigger do you think I am? I just wanted to go out rather than stay in."

And you know what? The more I thought about it, the more ticked off I was. So, in an effort to not cuss him out, I opted to cancel our date for tomorrow. Far be it from me to spend someone else's money. Frickin' A. He was doing so well too. At any rate, I just have to figure out a way to get him off the island, and by that, I mean how to push him off. As we all know, I'm not so good at the clean break, and I'm easily talked into giving extra chances (See, the young'n, the ninja, the engineer, the bottle service guy). *Sigh*. I can be such a pansy sometimes.

Un-retirement

This is an essay on "why I decided not to retire." So, as I said many many months ago, I had already decided that if I didn't make either of the dance teams I tried out for, I'd go ahead and hang up my dance shoes, and be a real adult. Naturally, my mother tried to talk me out of this. My friends tried to talk me out of this. And most of the less than perceptive people in my world made many suggestions as to what I could do instead. (Grant it, they were just trying to be helpful -- but it was less helpful and more annoying).

Anyway, what actually changed my mind was an article I read in a local trade journal. It was about a lawyer who had a hobby of writing plays. He too, attempted to just keep it in the background -- something he did as a kid and in college. But eventually, he decided to just give in to the hobby. What he said, which rang true to me, is that a person cannot give up that which they loved to do as a child. For him, that was writing. For me, it's dancing. And gosh-darn-it, why should I fight it?

Besides, why retire before you're forced out? Well, I've got 7 months to get my act in gear. Darn shame I thought I was retiring...it'll be like starting all over again. (Including the 10 lbs I must have gained since the finals. *Sigh*. Why wasn't I born naturally skinny?)

300!!!!!!!

Can you believe this is officially my 300th post? And I'd really like to post something profound, but this is not a thinking man's blog. So instead, I'm going to write about something completely shallow....Boys, Fashion, Gossip and such!

Ok, I don't have anything interesting to say about boys, fashion, gossip, or anything. So, I suppose I'll just give you an update.
1. The Boxer -- I've broken the curse -- with the Boxer!! After 11 months of first dates and no second dates, on Wednesday, I FINALLY had a second date! And it was loverly. He took me out for sushi, I took the wine (it was BYOB). He's a little obsessive; but in a cute kinda way. As in, he'll whine if I haven't called him. So, but for the fact that I watch so many crime shows, it wouldn't be creepy at all. But alas, I do watch a lot of crime shows, so now I'm all worried that he's going to turn into a stalker. **This is completely unfounded, and totally encouraged by a recent CSI: Miami episode. We haven't even had a 3rd date!

2. Bottle Service Guy -- he's still a total flake. I've determined that when we do talk, he's completely entertaining, and so I'm making efforts to turn him into a platonic friend. Thus far, it's been a feeble attempt. Yesterday, he asked me to watch football with him, and I told him I couldn't because of the Dancing With The Stars finale. I think he was shocked at the reason I turned him down. I found it kind of hilarious really.

3. Laptop -- so, I've purchased a new laptop, to much pain in my wallet. I did go to the store on Black Friday to see if they marked it down even further, but alas, they hadn't. Sadly, I lost all my pictures and all my music. The music, totally replaceable. The pictures, not replaceable, but almost all of them are either in print or on my digi cam still. Sadly, roughly 8 pics from last year's NYE in PHX are MIA. :'(. Soooooo sad about that.

4. The Ninja -- yup, texted me over Thanksgiving. I texted back. That was it. But I suspect he's trying to re-establish contact with the island.

I think that's it. But, if there's more, you'll find out in post #301!!!!!!

It's like riding in a coffin down a mine shaft

That is a quote from the t.v. show Samantha Who? on ABC. She was talking about elevators. I feel it refers to my job. I really didn't want to write another post about how much I enjoy my job. And by enjoy, I mean despise. But, I felt that quote was oh-so-appropriate, and therefore I thought I'd share.

Here's what I was going to post originally: I am so confused by the boxer. Remember how he and I had sorta, kinda arranged to meet on Thursday? And then he never got back to me to confirm time or place? And then he didn't answer my text on Saturday (it was a totally random text, one that I sent to more than one person). So I figure, good riddance to mediocre rubbish; given my earlier determination that his island stay would be short as he was just trying to get laid. Anyway, I received the most baffling phone call and message today...from the boxer. Wait, why is he calling me? Yes, I get that he and I did not actually have a set time or place to meet last Thursday, but I thought that maybe our mediocre date was understanding enough that we weren't really going to put forth effort. Was I the only one that got that vibe? Hmmm. Anyway, I haven't returned the call yet. That'll give me something to do tomorrow when I'm driving to BFE for work.

Sister Mary Bridget Jones

Yesterday, martamack -- ahem, Married martamack -- missed his train, and because he lives in BFE, that meant another one wasn't coming for quite some time. Being the adoring kid sister that I am, I agreed to meet him at the nearest Starbucks and provide company. During our coffee break, I had a very Bridget Jones Diary moment.

You may remember the scene in the first Bridget Jones movie where she's sitting around at a friend's dinner as the only single person there. And one of the smug married men goes "so why do you suppose there are so many women in their thirties who are single?" or some such thing. To which she replied it was because she had scales and fur.

Anyway, the day before yesterday, MMM asked his periodic question of "why are you still single"? Evidently, the answer I gave him on Tuesday wasn't satisfactory enough, because we wound around to that topic again on Wednesday night. I think it may have started because I was describing why bottle-service guy was re-kicked off the island.

Anyway, my usual course of action is to play off the question, or merely ignore it. However, today, I've decided to lay this issue to rest once and for all. The reason why, I have had 7 (8???) first dates and 0 second dates in the past 11 months is because I am abstinent. There, I said it. I dare you to refute it. Think about it, first, the sexual revolution, followed by Sex and the City, and everything in between, and I expect a guy -- mind you, a guy I just met -- to give up getting laid on a regular basis until marriage? Yes, I acknowledge the arrogance in that, but sadly the idea of burning in hell and the accompanying emotional guilt just aren't worth it for me. But, I don't blame the guy for just deciding not to ask me out on a second date, and find a girl whose giving it up instead. I mean really? I'd do the same thing.

MMM's solution to all this was just not mentioning it until the 3rd date. I'm pretty sure all that does is put off the inevitable...and adds the extra bonus of accusations of being a tease. AND, if you don't bring it up right away, I find that the guy merely believes it's a ploy and that either (a) I'm lying in order to look coy or (b) he can talk me into having sex.

So there, that's why I'm still single. All clear? Ok good. Glad we talked about that. Just call me Sister Mary Bridget Jones.

Promised Details

Ok Dance Team: I went to finals. Before finals, we had 2 boot camp classes. They lasted from 7 until 10:30. Then, the finals were held at a local club. We dancers had to arrive by 10 a.m. We rehearsed, and then changed into black cocktail dresses. For the record, my black cocktail dress is fabulous, but no longer fits me awesomely, because my trainer worked and whittled me down a size. (Yee haa). There was a question portion, where we were to shine with personality. Then, we changed out of our black dresses and into our teeny tiny dance outfits. And then we danced. And then I didn't make it. The end. And so now, I've pretty much decided to retire my dance shoes once and for all. As I said way back in September, if I didn't make it, I'd probably be done. Hence retirement.

Ok boys: The bottle service guy. We had a FANTASTIC first date. There was lots of giggling, and we were both dressed rather stylishly. This was the Thursday before the tryout. The night after the tryout, we talked. He wanted to hang out, but for obvious reasons, I really didn't want to. So, I invited him to come over on Sunday and watch football. I grant you, they were tentative plans, but I still wasn't expecting him to blow it off. Which he did. I didn't hear from him again until I texted him the following Tuesday. Long story short, I kicked him off the island. But upon re-examining the issue, I have sent him another invitation to the island. But, I'm going to make it very clear that he's walking a fine line.

The boxer. The boxer is a guy I just met on Saturday. He's both a professional boxer (middle heavyweight) and a personal trainer. I shudder to think of that 8 pack he's sporting. We met on Saturday. He called and asked for a date on Sunday, which we had on Sunday. I'm impressed by his boldness. However, I suspect he's just trying to get laid. Unfortunate really, I would've enjoyed a cuddle with a hard body like that.

Ok, I think that's it. Consider yourself updated. Phew. Just in time to go to bed. Zzzzzz.

Quick Note

So, I haven't blogged in a while, so here's the cliff notes of what you need to know. Last week my computer died. And by died, I mean fubar'ed. That happened the day before I didn't make the dance team -- and de facto went into retirement.

The guy from the bar fell off the island. But he's been replaced by a new guy, the boxer. Whom I met on Saturday, and then went out on a date with on Sunday. More details to follow.

Anyhoo, as expected, I'm up and down with my mood, of course. Being forced into retirement sucks a little. The guy from the bar leaving the island also sucked, given our excellent first date. The new guy, kinda fun, but I'm not yet sure about.

At any rate, I'll post more soon, I promise.

Oyeille yeille yeille

Ouch. That's what my body is saying, exclaiming, crying really. Why, you ask? Well because yesterday I had tryouts to become an Adrenaline Rush Dancer. Tryouts began at 9:15. We started with very scary technique. And given the fact that we were in a convention center, and not a dance studio, there were no mirrors. All I know is that I did the leaps and the sexy walks really well...because I already knew how to do those. I also know that I didn't do the Calypso so great. And, I tripped at least once attempting to wink at the judges. Smooooooooth.

Ok, after the technique, we moved on to the sideline. This was pretty easy as long as you knew something about pom dancing. Which, obviously I do. The real key was to be able to do the freaky straight arms of a cheerleader. Totally handled that. But so did everyone else, for the most part.

Then, we had our lunch time adventure. The sign on the bus stop said 3 blocks to get to the McDonalds. So I, along with some other girls, walked. I don't know who measured, but it was definitely a good half mile. ONE WAY. Arrrrrgh!

After lunch, there was even more. First, there was a hip hop. I had a good time with that one. Shakin' my distinctive parts, as Luda said. Second, there was a pom funk routine. No one rocked that one, because it wasn't as high energy as the hip hop. Which is probably why we had to do it twice. Yikes.

Anyhoo, short story long...I made it to finals!!!!!!!! Squeeeeeeee!

Long Weekend

Last weekend was quite the weekend. Friday, I went to an incredibly grown-up dinner party that the cute neighbor invited me to. I was so impressed with everyone's dish. (Given that I didn't get notice until the last minute, I took tasty tasty liquor, and didn't show off my culinary skills). Anyway, the hostess made a tasty and delicious pork tenderloin. Cute neighbor made tasty pasta. HBG made sauteed green beans. But, most impressively, one of the other guests brought stuffed mushroom caps. They were to die for. So very delicious. Afterwards, we went out for a bit, ending up at the bar where Afro-guy works. Sadly, he wasn't there. HBG's friend from college came along, and he was a super cute law student. I would've definitely made out with him, but for the fact that HBG was standing right there. Bummer. D'ah well. If he's friends with HBG, he's probably stuck in the frat boy mindset anyway. Particularly since he's nearly a lawyer.

Then Saturday I went out with the Fabulous Kia (That's pronounced kye-ah). She is a most fantastically person that I met through Chrissy. Fortunately, Chrissy introduced us, because we were both languishing from going out to lame bars with Chrissy. Now we can go out to classy bars with each other, and get into all kinds of trouble. What kind of trouble you ask? Well, trouble like Saturday night. Not only did we get into VIP for free, but Kia also managed to get us each a free glass of champagne from some random guy. And then we both got drinks from cute boys with bottle service (Belvidere for those of you keeping track). Hilariously, Kia was actually using her pseudonym, and the guy to whom she'd given her phone number called on Sunday asking for her. And she was a teeny bit confused. HA!

Speaking of cute boys with bottle service. One of them asked for my phone number -- and unlike JLH he called! Hooray! We'll see if it goes anywhere. So far, so good. I've been impressed with his boldness thus far.

This post brought to you by the number 9

Last night, I was looking in my closet, longing to wear jeans to work the next day. I came to a rather shameful conclusion. I own nine pairs of jeans. 9!!! Isn't that absolutely nuts. That's american materialism at it's best. And honestly, I only feel bad about 2 pair of the 7. The other 7, I get a decent amount of wear out of them. But 1 pair used to be my comfy pair, have sort of turned into a mom jean. The other pair are the skinny jeans. A great pair of jeans I bought at the height (low?) of my Weight Watcher days. I keep them around to remind me how tiny I can be if I really put my mind to it. I tried them on last night, given my recent strength training with the trainer extraordinaire -- they were still pretty tight. But not necessarily in the obscene kind of way, maybe in an almost kind of way. So, we'll see if at the end of our sessions, I can get myself in them. Dude, making the dance team + fitting into my skinny jeans = wickedly worth the price.

Thus swung the Pendulum

So, the Ninja called me tonight. I missed the call (making me look like a busy busy girl). But he left a message. Which was even more shocking; since he never leaves message (that would be far too responsible). The message basically asked what I was doing on Friday. And therein lies the question. Why is he calling asking what I'm doing on Friday? And since the only way the thought would cross his mind to ask me is if he broke up with his g/f or if the relationship is on the rocks....how long ago did that relationship start to spiral downwards? And, most importantly, do I care?

News and Reflections

News first: We'll start with the Hawkeye. Ok, basically, I'm so over him. He's too young. And generally not that into me. Actually, I don't know if he's that into me, so much as he isn't working that hard to get to me. That might be because he's not that into me. And it might be because he's not used to having to work that hard...having been a football player in the Big 10 and all. Thus, although he's still uber-cute, I'm just not willing to put in any kind of work to get his attention, because he's just out of college, and therefore not worth the effort.

There may, however, be a newcomer to the island. We'll call him JLH. JLH is a little bit older than I'm normally attracted to. Stop laughing! I'm not always attracted to 22 year olds. I'd definitely go for someone who is 27, 28. Remember cute neighbor?! He's 28. Ok then. Glad I proved that. (I still hear you giggling). Anyway, JLH is probably around 32, 33. He's an attorney at a sweatshop firm; a 7th year. He's tall caramelly and handsome. And definitely spends some time at the gym. Which I like. I don't know much else about him biographically. Mostly because we only met briefly at a lawyerly function. So far, there's been no contact. But my buddy said that I may have made him think that I wasn't interested, so I broke the 2 day rule and emailed him right away -- but it was both casual and legitimate. The ball's in his court now, so we'll see if he was actually interested. Here's to hoping that he's not only interested, but also child-free and has a good personality to go with that nice body.

Reflections: Ok, so today I was at my friend's housewarming dinner party. And she was mentioning some things that pheebee's been getting into and some things that she's done. I've always said that I want to lead an exciting life; and I've always been afraid that my 20s were just languishing since I wasn't really doing anything uber-exciting. As it turns out, when you list all the things I've been getting into recently, my life's not so boring. Think about it, I've tried out for a pro dance squad, and I'm trying out for another one in a few weeks. Besides that, I was already on one a few years ago. AND, I was picked to be the CBJIG. AND, I used to be a Hooters Girl. (Bet you forgot about that). And I went out with a pro-basketball player. And I've been to a bunch of foreign countries. I mean, my biography, while nothing movies are made of, is actually fairly interesting. Sah-weet! I don't have to worry that I'm the most boring person in the world. Which, believe it or not, is a near constant nagging fear that I have. (Look at that, one more layer to pheebee's personality -- I'm like a deluxe parfait).

Phooey

Ok, so I finally learned the Hawkeye's name. And therefore I google-stalked him. And, I made a startling discovery. He was born in 1985. I've already had to deal with someone born in that year. Remember the young'n? Oh crap. Maybe I'm no longer that into him. I don't think I can deal with fighting his sexual impulses. Which may be just as well, because there may be an unconfirmed girlfriend. Why couldn't he be a nice 27-29 year old man?

I did enjoy talking to him for an extended period of time today. He seems to be able to handle my smart-arsed mouth. Although, he may be a little bit of a whiner in terms of giving him a hard time. And we have an appointment to chat on Tuesday; as we have a bet going about who's going to win the Packers/Bears game (duh). He took the losing side, so I need suggestions for bet terms. And before you suggest it, it can't be dinner or drinks or any such thing; because the terms he picked involved lunges and squats. (sad. He definitely passed on the opportunity to ask me out).

Speaking of the young'n, he called me this week. He's moving to California. I think I may miss his empty threats of proposing marriage.

Houston, we have a mini problem

So, I've been properly stalking the Hawkeye. And by stalking, I mean going to my regular gym at the regular time and checking him out. We often exchange pleasantries. However, I noticed today that he wasn't as cute as I originally thought. Which got me a little worried. Even I am starting to think I'm too picky. But, for the record, I'm going to continue to stalk the Hawkeye. Because he's still hot. Hooray Hawkeye!

Incidentally, I've also renewed my resolve not to repeat those who have been kicked off the island. I had the oddest dream about the Engineer, and that got me to thinking for half a second. I wondered to myself whether it'd be a bad idea to call him. Goodness knows I haven't forgotten the phone number (darn memory for phone numbers). Which reminded me: I need to get new cabana boys.

All this to say, that despite not being as impressed by the Hawkeye as before, I still want him on the island to prevent repeats. I don't know whether I"m any closer to making that happen. But what the heck, I'm still game for giving it a shot.

The Hawkeye

Well, I was in love. I saw him on Tuesday, after a rather brutal workout with my trainer. Actually, I'd seen him around the gym sometime before that, when he was taking off his shirt. But then when I looked away and back again, he was gone. So I thought he was the Phantom hot guy. I was pleasantly surprised on Tuesday when I saw him in real life and up close.

So, I decided to say hello and give him a hard time because he was wearing a Hawkeye shirt and the Badgers just beat the pants off of them. We quickly bonded because he actually went to Iowa (and played football there!!!) and I went to old CC. AND we're both Packers fans. Anyway, we'd been talking for a little while, when some people needed to get by us. And here's where the oddness happened. In order to let them pass, he went into the office that was behind him. But, instead of backing in (his back was in the doorway), he turned around and went in. Then he stayed in there for an oddly long time. So, I walked away. And then, after I walked away, I wondered if maybe he wasn't ending the conversation after all. But I was already gone. And then I couldn't find him when I came out of the locker room. So, that's how our great conversation ended.

Ah well. I guess it's just as well anyway. Martamack told me today that I have no shot with the hot trainer. Actually, what he said was that I only had a 1:150 shot, and why should I even try if I'm competing with girls who spend hours upon hours in the gym. AND if there are any of the Asian persuasion, I should really forget about it. AND he said that I really shouldn't bother because there are so many pretty women out there that the Hawkeye would have to choose from. So, the moral of the story is I shouldn't bother.

Open Call

With all the activity I had going on last weekend, I'd forgotten about what weekends are really like for me. Last night, I was prepared to stay in, because I had a busy day of working out and errands planned. And, I thought I'd be going out with the SiQ tonight. However, the SiQ decided to make a stop downstate first, before coming up to the Chi. So, here I am, ready to go out, and yet instead I'm blogging.

I knew this is what I'd be doing early on in the evening. I stopped by the library around 4, and figured I'd get a book to read tonight, but I forgot my library card. Then, when I went to the grocery store, I picked up a frozen pizza, because I knew I wasn't going out to dinner. And then, the final straw, at 8, I went upstairs to grab the nail polish remover, cotton balls, and the nail polish to give myself a pedicure. All this, because I knew I wasn't going out.

The sad thing is, sometimes I make plenty of effort, texting people and trying to get plans together. But, rarely do people ever call me to go out. Though I have friends, they're all too attached, too old, too busy with family, blah blah blah they are NOT partiers. Or, in the alternative, they don't go out clubbing, but prefer bars, and therefore got sick of me turning them down and so never call me. Today is not one of those days where I'm making effort though. Today, I'm participating in a social experiment to see if anyone will call me to see what's shaking. But, I know the answer. That would be nothing.

So, what's a gal to do? Well, this gal is probably going to start expanding her friend circle. To people who prefer to be out rather than in on the weekends. Oh, and people who prefer to go out and look cute rather than go to bars where looks aren't that important. Because honestly? I have too many darn cute clothes to be in my pjs at 9pm on a Saturday night.

Worth it?

Prep classes plus registration fee -- $99.00
8 sessions with personal trainer -- $352.00
Living broke for weeks to attempt another team try-out --- priceless?

Hippy Dippy White Guys

And while I'm on the subject of hippy dippy white guys...who the hell decided these men were attractive? And now they're everywhere. Seriously, that giant dude from that idiotic movie "40 Year-Old Virgin." Who later carried the movie I couldn't bring myself to watch "Knocked Up." And then Jack Black. And, goodness help me Will Ferrell. Gaaaaaah.

Seriously, I"m not sure which is worse, saggy pants or the idiotic curly 'fros made allegedly popular. Wait, I take that back. They both make me want to settle down with a nice gay man.

Confessions of an eL rider

So, there I am, standing on an awfully crowded train, trying to avoid eye contact with a hippy dippy white dude with a curly fro and a knapsack. Meanwhile, he's singing to himself, without an ipod. But, that's what public transportation is for right?

Anyway, what happens at my third stop out, is some chick he knows gets on the train. Who woulda thunk it? Apparently said chick and the hippy dippy white guy haven't seen each other in ages. So they're catching up, and the rest of us gain all kinds of insight into the hippy dippy white guy. Apparently, not only does he look like a hippy, but he also gets high like one. Apparently, he started doing crack since he last saw her. Him and his dad used to get high on it together. He and his mom used to get high on meth. So, once you start crack, it's really hard to stop. AND, his dad has decided to stop. (Bummer). Also, he isn't staying at the hostel anymore, instead he's sleeping in a local park. Unfortunately, we weren't graced with anymore of the catching up, because the hippy dippy white guy and said chick got off at the next stop. She actually asked him if she could "walk with him." Hello, random?!

Now, here's the part that makes this hilarious. He was neither joking, nor tragic. He was completely proud of it. I suspect he may have even been proud of it. He told it the way most people would describe the 4 years they spent in college. The girls I was exchanging pointed looks with were equally as disappointed as I. We spent 1/2 of the time to the next stop musing over how random the conversation was, and how it ranked as far as all time most awesome eL conversations we'd (shamelessly) eavesdropped on. And THAT's when I decided to blog about it.

Nope

That's the answer to the question you've been dying to know. I did not make the dance team. Of course, I guess there's bound to be at least one dance try out that I have where I don't make the team right?

The sad thing is, I totally thought I nailed it. And, moves-wise, I may have. But, just before they made the announcement, the director came in and said that for the people who didn't make it, it may have been any number of reasons why -- personality, etc. She even said "maybe you look exactly like another girl." That was the official moment that I got worried. There was an uber-awesome girl who, from far away, looked exactly like me. Crap! No, she wasn't talking to me, but for goodness' sake, how could I think anything other than that meant both of us weren't going to make it? This was sad, because that chick is awesome. I'd practiced with her on Thursday, and I really wanted us both to make it so we could hang out. Had she gone to Cornell, she def. woulda been an m-te. I was already planning to invite her to the next m-te vacation.

Anyway, I was standing there, with my parents and 2 friends, when my name was definitely not announced. (Hers was, for your FYI). So, here I am, not on a(nother) pro dance team.

So my mother, ever the optimist, spends the next 45 minutes or so deciding that I'm going to go ahead and try out for the team I'd originally planned on trying out for in October. Meanwhile, I'm bummed AND feeling less than confident about my skillz. Well, my mother is stubborn. (A trait that's hereditary, incidentally. I'll never admit to being stubborn (ha!), but everyone agrees that my g-ma was.) And so, despite the many many valid reasons I had for not trying out, my mother has gone so far as to offer to pay for the entrance fee and the prep classes. Oy.

But she can't make me go, right? On the other hand, am I really that much of a baby? (Yes.)

Funny, every time I went to practice for this last dance team, I passed the stadium for the other one. I definitely found myself thinking how nice it would be not to have drive so far. One time, I even said to myself "If I was on that team, I'd be home by now." I also remember wondering to myself whether I'd not be picked on Saturday as a sign from God that I should be on the other. Hmmm. All things to think about.

Some good news, though, my neck doesn't hurt anymore! Squee!!! And my body didn't feel completely torn up this morning. Squee!!!! Guess I was just rusty before, which means, I AM NOT OLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Take that martamack.)

Tragedy on Belmont

So, as I said yesterday, I went to a play with friends, and the guy they're making a minor attempt to set me up with. (Remember, the one who may be a bit dim?) Anyway, I arrived at the theatre after they did, because I was busy purchasing new split sole dance sneakers. So when I got there, I arrived alone. As I'm walking into the auditorium, an extremely handsome man said "Excuse me....what's your name?" So I say, "pheebee." He says "I'm Darryl. Let's sit together." All of this was executed with extreme Billy Dee Williams suaveness. I was very impressed with his boldness, and the simplicity of the line.

Anyhoo, I'm all set to agree, but I tell him that I can't because my friends have brought someone I'm supposed to be set up with. But, I tell him, let's meet up during intermission. (Did I mention he was handsome AND bold AND suave?!)

Now, here's the tragic part of the story. Once I sat down, and looked at the program, I was devastated to find out that there was no intermission. BLAST! My friend said that's what I get for being greedy. But I wasn't being greedy! I was just leaving my options open ;). Sad times. Maybe I'll see him around...it's possible right?

Shake what your momma gave ya! or Man! I am old!

Ok, so we know I decided to try out for a local sports dance team. And we knew I had a few months to get my arse in gear, as well as buy dance shoes, stretch, etc. Well, what we didn't know was the power of google. I'm tooling about the internet, looking for various dance tryout websites, trying to get the upper hand. Well, one of my searches turns up a dance team try out for Saturday. As in, yesterday. So what do I do? I decide to try out, on a whim. It was Thursday, so somebody hit the panic button!

Ok, Thursday night, I'm emailing the Director to find out if it's too late to sign up. Friday morning, I wake up at the crack of dawn, so I check my email. The director emails me the night before, and says it's cool. Alright, it's Friday, and I have no shoes. Sweet. I spend the day trying to find a store that sells used dance shoes, to no avail. Ok, it's 6:36 p.m. I'm supposed to be meeting up with some friends to see a play (more on that on a later date). I've found a local dance store that sells new dance shoes....and they close at 7pm. Well, I drive a Mustang right? (just ask Rubix, HA!). Let's let her out. I'm praying-while-driving, passing on the right, speeding, cruising, and illegally parked, but I made it just after the store closed. But, having called before, I think they were feeling generous and held the doors open 5 minutes later than they would have. So, I've got brand new ($60 - yikes!) dance shoes.

So, it's Saturday, a.m. I'm required to bring a picture of myself to the audition. On Friday night, I go online and have one sent to Walgreens. It was supposed to be ready by 11:30 p.m. Friday night. Naturally, it wasn't ready when I went to Walgreens at 7:05 a.m. the next morning. *Sigh* Oh well, she's able to print it (with plenty of attitude) right then and there. So I'm on the road by 715.

Now, the fun begins. For those that don't know, when the tryout information page tells you to bring a lunch, they mean it. When they say plan to be there all day, they mean it. The teaching started at 9:15. We broke for lunch at 12:15. What sucks about that is they don't say it out loud, but the judging starts at 915. (I can prove it too, a bunch of people were cut at lunch). Anyway, around 1030, I hurt so much I thought I was going to die. But, I figured, I just bought $60 shoes, so I'd better go all the way. Between the hurting various body parts, and the fact that more than half the people there were younger than me (including one chick who had braces and was dropped off by her dad), I felt old for the first time in my life. Ouch.

After a series of cuts, I've made it to the final round, which will be held next Saturday. It's open to the public, so come on out!!!! The more people that are cheering for me, the hotter the judges will think I am. ;) (I'm all about using every advantage I've got baby!)

Set Up

Ok, because I know you're all dying to know how the set-up went. I thought I'd post a little bit of an update. So here goes...

As you may or may not be aware, this wasn't a date. It was just a bunch of people getting together at a barbecue; my friend just happened to have invited the two of us. Er...three of us. The cute guy brought a cute friend. They were both single, and I was both single. So, here's the report.

Original cute guy: Hmm. Didn't really prove or disprove his reputation of being somewhat, ahem, dim. I'm not saying the boy is dumb. I'm just saying he didn't say anything all that profound either. But, on the other hand, neither did anyone else. It was a day full of inane chatter...but in a good way. He did talk a lot of smack about bagg-o. I think we all know that I enjoy a wisearse. So, all in all, he was pleasant. Although I'm not entirely convinced we have anything in common.

Cute guy's friend: Hmmm. Well, I've already established that he was attractive. Although I definitely think he was on the older side. He's an Academic Advisor, and freakishly reminded me of the former Director of Intercultural Life at my alma mater (and an usher at my church). Aside from that weird feeling, he was pretty cool. However, he was really quiet.

So, that's the update. I can't say that I'm overly enthused about either guy. I mean, they were both attractive, and great on paper. But, really? I didn't get much of a vibe that either was all that into me. (And truthfully, vice versa). Let's not be hasty though...if asked, I'd totally go out with one of them. Or both. HA!

Operation Shape Up!

Alright, we all know I'm not the largest woman ever. But, that doesn't necessarily mean I'm in shape. And I'll go ahead and go on record and say that I'm not in shape. However, I have a new goal that requires some serious shaping, toning, and strengthening. I've made the executive decision to try out for the indoor football league cheerleaders.

For the first time ever, I am worried about my chances in a dance competition. I mean, honestly, it's been 5 years. Five!!! For not the first (or last) time ever, I'm not that confident about the shape I'm in. In this case, I'm going up against teeny tiny 18 year olds. Gah!!! I'm not entirely certain what made this particular brand of mental torture sounded like a good idea. But, then again, I really do miss performing and dancing.

Doing this is going to be quite an investment, both financially and emotionally. I have to buy new dance shoes, and I'm going to go ahead and pay the $99 for the prep classes right before the audition. And I'm considering hiring a trainer at Bally's (depending on how much he'll charge per session). The way I see it, even if I don't make it, I'll end up with a kickin' body. And really? There's nothing wrong with that. Emotionally, well, if I don't make it, I'll officially have to hang up my dance shoes (and bragging rights). Bummer.

Alright, let the chronicles begin! (Gulp).

Anticipation

Honestly, I cannot wait a minute longer to quit my job. But for my propensity for paying rent, I'd already be collecting unemployment. But since even I am tired of whining about my job, and I'm too ashamed to admit to actually having a slight breakdown while slumped in the first bathroom stall at my office, I've decided not to blog about how much I hate my job. At this point, not only is it old hat and obvious, but in addition to the stress of the job taking a physical toll, the negativity is starting to affect other areas of my life. As such, suffice it to say that if I'm not out of there soon, I may have to take an extended mental health leave.

I am also, however, anxiously anticipating my setup/blind date/whatever. I'm hoping he'll be entertaining enough to provide a welcome distraction that I need. What worries me is a.) I haven't gotten the most detailed description of what he looks like -- just that all the women want him; b.) I haven't gotten much detail on his personality, other than he's publicly humble and privately full of himself; c.) I'm not sure just how dumb the poor boy is.

As much as I'd like a distraction, I do have my standards. Get this, I actually blew off Rubix by conveniently not calling him back. And I more gently blew off the Christian Rapper by sending him a text telling him I was too stressed to go out with anyone. AND, I'm slowly weaning off the young'n. I'm just tired of repeats and those that aren't meeting the standard. Hence, my worries about the setup. Although, he will be all new and shiny, and really, we all know I'm like a crow. Pretty! Shiny! Weee! (Yes, I am willing to be just that shallow, at least for a little while.)

What to post, what to post?

I find myself antsy with anticipation. I am having my very first set-up this weekend. I'm pretty excited at the prospect of meeting a new prospective boyf. I know I'm putting way too many eggs in one basket. But, alas it's better than the lame eggs I had before.

So, here's the dish on the set-up. My friend Liz (girlfriend of my happy-go-lucky friend Joyce's brother) has decided I should date her boyfriend's co-worker. This was decided the very first day we met, and I think she's been subconsciously plotting it ever since. Anyway, she's throwing a White Party this Labor Day, and has covertly invited us both to the event. Apparently he is physically just my style. Unfortunately, his reputation of being dumb as a brick precedes him. Evidently, the poor boy is pretty and dumb. Well, that's alright, nothing wrong with sitting and looking pretty. Hopefully he's perfected this art. We'll find out. Here's hoping!

Darkened Lights of Broadway

The blog has been silent due to the passing of my grandma. Pheebee's mom's mom. She went peacefully, and had homegoing to end all homegoings. Silence having been properly observed, musing and ranting will resume shortly.

It's Raining Boys

Today, I heard from 2 ghosts of dates past. First, Rubix called me at work. Then, Christian Rapper called. What? Again I am forced to ask, did I miss a memo?

Ok, honestly, Rubix and I not only had a not good date, but I'm pretty sure I was entirely noncommital after we saw each other again a week after the date. And yet he's calling asking for a round 2? I'm confused. And no, I don't know if I'll be giving him a second chance. On the one hand, he hasn't earned it. But on the other hand, when is free dinner ever a bad idea? (Don't answer that martamack).

As for Christian Rapper, I just have no friggin' clue what that's about. I think I managed a slick power-play when I had literally, no idea who he was when he called. It was completely accidental, but it made me chuckle (internally, of course -- well, for the most part). Anyway, I get that he really wanted a 2nd chance to redeem himself. You may remember that he lost his wallet the day of our date, and therefore our date was limited to coffee beverages at Borders, which I purchased. On the other hand, he drove me up the friggin' wall. All the daggone touching. Why are you touching me?!?! Gah! But, on the other hand, when is free dinner ever a bad idea?

One more random phone call from a guy that has either never received a formal invitation onto the island or been kicked off the island and I'm taking a poll of all islanders. Who's out giving the ok to these guys to call me? I bet it was 2DP. He'd totally do that.

Another weekend, another date

So, last night, there was a new applicant on the island. His name, originally, was hot body guy (HBG). After the date, it should really be lost cause guy, or frat guy. But more on that later. He lives down the hall from me. He, like cute neighbor, is in sales, and travels a lot for work. And, obviously, he has an incredibly hot body. Although his face was not so impressive. In fact, it was decidedly unimpressive.

Anyway, earlier this week, he asked me out...kind of. Actually, the whole story is, I had txt'd cute neighbor to see if he wanted to get ice cream. He wanted to go, but he wanted smoothies instead. Anyway, as we got ready to go, he went down the hall to ask another neighbor. (Grr; turning it into a complete non-date. Although probably my fault, because I gave his brother a by-the-way invite...Well he was sitting right there!) So, the other neighbor decided to go. (Bummer). On the way out the door, we ran into HBG. Since so many people were going anyway, we invited him.

After the smoothies, we were all standing in the hall and HBG says "hey, I'm in town this weekend, if you want to get together knock on my door and we'll grab a drink." I invited him to volleyball on Friday in response. So, after some discussion with IM Boyf, he told me that HBG was asking me out on a date. I thought it was just a casual, acquaintance type asking. But apparently, it wasn't. So, as it turns out, I had a tentative date for the weekend.

The date itself was nice. HBG and I doubled with yet another neighbor and her new possible beau. We went for Mexican and had good times. What made the date so unimpressive are the things I learned about HBG. He's a hardline right-wing conservative (that's his own definition, not mine. I was surprised). And he listens to horrible HORRIBLE punk rock music. (loudly). And, he still thinks he's a frat guy. That is the largest problem. He still has a beer bong on his porch for cry-eyed. Yikes. After all of that, I'm not sure what I could possibly have in common with that guy. Oh, and he has bad taste in bars.

But, the up side is, he's still a really nice guy. So there's no sparks? That doesn't mean that I can't stop by his place and watch a movie once in a while. Hopefully he'll answer the door with his shirt off once in a while. What?!?! He didn't get the nickname hot body guy for nothing!

I haven't put up a quiz in a while...

SiQ and Young'n

So, the SiQ recently had a problem with a girlfriend. A problem which begged the question, why are women freakin' crazy?

The short version of the back story, is that she totally made out with guy, whom she thought was single. I guess, technically, he was single at the time. But then his literally crazy girlfriend caught wind of this, (cause she tricked him into telling her), and started hitting her head against the wall until he promised to take her back. Then, this moron (the guy, not the girlfriend) tells the SiQ about it, and asks her to speak tot he gf and tell her that nothing all that serious happened. I know! I thought the same thing -- clearly he has a severe lack of common sense. Anyway, the gf eventually gets the SiQ's phone number and tells the SiQ not to talk to the guy anymore. (Is this sounding vaguely familiar? So, apparently the engineer's girlfriend isn't the only psychob---ahem--idiot out there.)

Now, I beg you, why on earth would you go through all that for some dude? Honestly?! Somebody get that girl some Prozac. Anyway, does anyone know a good investigator? We need to find a picture of the gf to make sure she isn't stalking the SiQ.

In other news, the young'n is coming down for a visit. He isn't necessarily specifically coming to visit me, because he's coming with other people. But there is definitely a plan to see me. He's asked if he could stay with me though (on my couch, perverts). I'm pretty apprehensive on that point. But here's the weird thing. There are other people I'd let stay here without a second thought. There's 2DP, of course. But that's so not the same situation, he being my future backup husband and all. And, there was the engineer. I mean, think about it, I went and stayed in the ATL with the engineer, and then again in Seattle, and I hadn't been talking to him nearly as long as the young'n. And no one blinked an eye -- not even my mother for cryin' out loud. So what's the deal with the young'n? Why is it so hard to let him stay on my couch?

Hmmm...given the fact that this city is far more dangerous than Madtown, maybe I should let him stay. He could scare away all the scary people. AND he offered to cook and clean. That would totally be worth sharing, wouldn't it?

Courthouse guy, updated

Me: "Hey." (Internal monologue: "don't roll your eyes, don't roll your eyes, don't roll your eyes."

Rubix: "Hey."

Me: (Internal monologue: "oh good, he's walking away. That wasn't awkward. Phew. Oh crap, he's coming back. Don't sit down, don't sit down, don't sit....crap.")

Rubix: "So how's it going?"

Me: "Good. You?"

Rubix: "Not bad. What are you here for?"

Me: "Got an emergency motion. What about you, what are you doing on the 15th floor??"

Rubix: "Oh, I work all over. And I have a trial that might go, next door."

Me: "Ah."

Rubix: "You never called me."

Me: "You didn't call me either." (Internal monologue: "Is he kidding?")

Rubix: "Was I supposed to?"

Me: "No. I was just saying, the phone works both ways." (Internal monologue: "Wait, did he think we had a good date?")

Rubix: "Well, I made the last two calls."

Me: "Well I wasn't keeping track."

Rubix: "Me neither, I was just making my argument."

Me: "Ah." (Internal monologue: "oh yeah, that's why we'll never go out; you can't tell the difference between a trial and life. Gah! You are so ridiculous....please call my motion, please call my motion, please call....oh good; he has to run away."

Crimes against Fashion

Yesterday, I saw the most atrocious outfit ever. Picture a swimsuit from the 1960s. You know, the kind they always show in the pictures from Miss America of yesteryear. They are essentially short shorts and a tube top all in one piece. Ok, now loosen that up. Now, picture the loose, swimsuit-like shape in white cotton with black polka-dots. And then, add a drawstring at the thigh, to adjust the outside of the shorts to be shorter than the inner-thigh side. And THAT, is the exact outfit I saw yesterday at the eL stop. And, in case you're wondering, there was no beach or gym anywhere near there. Not that this is where that chick was headed. Perhaps she was headed to the proverbial red-light district.

In other news, I've become a fashion hypocrite. I am loathed to admit it...but I had a moment of weakness. I've always thought that the short shorts (what my mom would call hotpants) worn out to the club was an odd choice. But then, I was having an excellent leg day, and so I decided to wear a pair of recently purchased hot pants, mimicking an outfit some unknown celeb had on in the RedEye. Anyway, I had the black hotpants, the black buttondown (worn unbuttoned down to there), and the fabulous gold and bronze shoes. And then I further accessorized with big gold earrings, gold and bronze bracelet, and a gold and black necklace. Then I wore the hair up.

In front of my trick mirror, I looked fabulous. Then, I walked outside, and thought "oh good heavens what have I done?!!? I sooooo do NOT have the legs for this!" My nervousness was further cemented by the catcalls I got from the hoodrats in the passing vehicles. But then, I remembered the book "Beautylicious" which said when you're wearing an outfit, do it with confidence. So I squared up my shoulders, and walked proud (while secretly hoping I didn't look like I was cheap and/or easy). When I finally got to the party, I got compliments from other chicks. Which is a clear indication that maybe I need to eat crow about the short shorts worn out for a night on the town.

Courthouse Guy

So here's the story with courthouse guy. We met up at a pub/pizza joint not that far away from where I live. I finally got the chance to try out an outfit I'd been itching to try for quite some time. (army green tshirt dress from Old Navy, gold necklace, hair up, brown sandal wedges.) I looked rather fabulous. He was still wearing a lovely pinstriped suit, presumably he came straight from work. This was a pleasant surprise, because I expected him to be in tshirt and shorts.

Anyway, I went with an open mind. But sadly, this date was not meant to go well. It started out alright. We were talking about work and such. He asked me how many motions I'd had, and he'd had tons and tons more than myself. And he was giving me a hard time about that, but in a joking way. But then he brought it up again later, asking how many trials I'd had (0), and then telling me how many he'd had (oodles). So, I said "why are you counting?" You know, good-naturedly. Then, he brought it up, AGAIN! And I said, well, it's good for our company if our insureds aren't running about crashing into things...it keeps premiums down. And he said, yeah, we're high-volume, so we get tons of stuff. Then, he brought it up AGAIN!!!! At this point, I'd had it. So, I said "well, my firm isn't full of ambulance chasers, so I couldn't possibly have as many trials and motions as you." So he finally shut up.

The other problem he had, was waxing poetic about his vehicles. That's right, I said vehicles. Apparently he has 2 motorcycles and 2 cars. So, he was waxing poetic about his 1997 Mustang (which is not a classic, incidentally); and he mentioned how he wanted to put Cobra wheels on his car. And I said, "oooh, I love the Cobra Mustang." Which I do. So he went on for a few more minutes, and said "you don't even know what I'm talking about do you?" Excuse me? Did I not just say that I love the Cobra? My response was, "yes, in fact, I do. I remember the first time I saw the Cobra, I was in high school and..." Notice how I didn't finish my sentence there. Yeah, that's because he cut me off to say: "well, they were only out between 1995 - 1999." (I may have the years wrong). So I say, "that's good, because I was in high school between 1995-1999, which is when I saw a Cobra for the first time." But, the coup de gras, so to speak, was when he asked what kind of car I drove, and I triumphantly, and smugly, said "an '02 Mustang." Thankyouverymuch. Gah!

At any rate, he paid for dinner (with a $50); thinks the internet is a fad, doesn't own a computer, but owns a big flat screen t.v. That's right ladies....he's still single! (Excuse me while I swoon). So, he hasn't called, and I'm surely not calling him. I'm almost willing to be he calls me, just because he expects that I'm going to trip all over myself to go out with him. It could be fun just to screw with his head. But we'll see. :P

I missed Dateline for this?

So my date with Rubix was tonight. Ugh. He's such a lawyer. I'm still scratching my head. He was oh so arrogant. I think I may need to cut lawyers off the list of potentials. But more on this guy later.

Gross

There are a million ways to get grossed out. My particular rant of the day is smoking. Smoking is a truly repugnant habit. This is not a post to preach about the dangers of smoking. This is a post about how smelly and disgusting it is. When I was walking home today, I was stuck behind a guy who was sucking on his carcinogen stick. The smoke kept wafting backwards, the ash were floating on the breeze. Ack! It was disgusting.

And don't even get me started on smoking in bars. I know that smoking and drinking go hand in hand. Tons of people say that smoking enhances the buzz. I've even been known to partake in a drag or two -- but I didn't inhale. No really! I was just fascinated with the Smokin' Up tour at the time, and so I'd take a drag and blow it outwards and upwards without actually getting any smoke in my lungs. It did look cool, but my smoker-friends would yell at me: "You're wasting a perfectly good cigarette!" Anyway, none of this condones allowing smoking in bars. It's bad enough that you come home all sweaty from shakin' that groove thang. Do we really need to compound the situation by adding the revolting smell of stale cigarette smoke. The smoke is far worse anyway, it actually gets in your hair. Gah!

That's it. Smokers are soooooo very evicted from my island. How'd they get on my island anyway?

Rubix Cube Called

And he called a week late. Hmmm. I guess he had a pseudo-valid reason, and frankly, I'm ready to go out with someone who has the desire to buy me dinner. So we're going out on Wednesday. Today's conversation went far better than the last one -- so maybe he just needs to relax a bit. Okay, I'm officially having an open mind. Let go and let flow, right?

In other news, the young'n is getting close to far surpassing the engineer's surprising longevity. He'll randomly call me quite often, in fact. Unlike last summer, I don't have all day to talk to him, but we still manage to get in quality conversations. I get the slight feeling that he's becoming a bit attached. It's cute.

Also, I've given up on making out with Afro guy. Which is sad, since he was my most recent prospect. And no, I am so NOT going to kiss Rubix cube. Shudder. Oooh, that feeling does not bode well for the date does it? Meh. It happens.

It's a good day

Today, on perezhilton.com, there are pictures of Sexy Sexy Shemar Moore...Naked. Shemar. Don't-look-directly-at-him-because-he's-so-effen-hot Moore. Is. Naked. On. perezhilton.com. It's a good good day.

Yesterday, however, was a terrible day. Now, I know I said I was totally into the cutie @Goodbar two Saturdays ago. And I know I said I really wanted to make-out with afro-guy from two Sundays ago. And I know I've declared my love many-a times for other men. However, yesterday, I saw the Man of My Dreams. He was definitely THE ONE. I was walking back to my office from court when I saw him. And time stopped. Seriously. I was stepping off the curb when I looked up, and saw a caramel-toffee colored brother in a pink buttondown with coordinating tie. And a dark jacket, over square shoulders. He had the tightest fade in life. And, to top it off, he was driving a sage/mint green Land Rover. Good heavens I'm going to faint just thinking about the man. For reference, he looked like the guy from the Cadillac commercial where they're singing "Movin' on Up."

I definitely took a second look. And, quite frankly, so did he. But alas, he was driving the opposite direction of where I was going. So what did I do? Are you kidding me? I freakin' changed my course of direction is what I did. He even ended up pulling over and disappearing into a building across the street from where I was standing. Standing and dialing, mind you, attempting to look like I had a legitimate reason for being there. Do you know that NO ONE answered their phone? Not one person. All of you! Useless! *Sigh.* So off I went, back to the office, with a broken heart and blistered feet (I realized I was wearing shoes that were due for retirement). Anyway, I'm never going to be able to find a man now. No one is going to be able to measure up to my man in the mint green truck. *Sniff. Better to have love and lost my arse.

Kicking it into high gear

Ok, you win. I've officially cleaned up my resume and sent it off to MMM. Turns out he may be useful after all.

In unrelated news, I figured that I would do some pre-celebratory shopping, and finally purchased the fabulous art work for my hallway. Hooray!

In more unrelated news, I have a date this week. I met the guy at the courthouse. His name was originally courthouse guy, but martamack re-named him last week. The short version of the story is that last week, I couldn't remember the guy's whole last name, just the beginning, which is Rube-something. So, as I struggled to come up with the rest of the syllables, martamack just started calling him Rubix cube. Right before he predicted that Rubix cube had no shot. Bummer for Rubix cube. But, at least he got a good nickname out of it.

On that same note, I've been attempting to plot a way to find Afro-guy so I can make out with him. He works at a bar up the road, but I have no valid reason to go up there. And he hasn't called me. I'm thinking I've officially gotten the blow off, but, since I don't actually want to date this guy, I see no harm in continuing my quest for a makeout. :)

I feel fat...and other rantings

The thing about fat days, is that they aren't necessarily related to the actual size of the person who is experiencing the fat day. So, even tho I wear the size I wear (on the small side) I feel like a ginormo. I can feel my big fat thighs rubbing together, just below my big pregnancy sized stomach. And I've recently begun to lose all tone in my arms. Goo. That's what I am. Goo.

I am also upset about my job and the infamous corporate game. I hate the corporate game. And, furthermore, I hate living in near-constant fear that I'm risking my job over every little thing I do. Oh, you told a jackass attorney (who isn't your boss) that he was being a jackass (politely). You might get fired. Oooh, you told them to take their alleged diversity goal and shove it (also politely). You might get fired. Ooh, you don't ask how high everytime someone says jump. You might get fired. I HATE this game. And I hate it because it's such nonsense. And yet there is no way out. It's either this or not have a job. I knew I'd end up saying this -- but I miss retail. Too bad my old job wouldn't pay the bills. I wish I could be happy living with my parents forever. I'd move back home and go back to working at V.S.

In completely unrelated news, I saw a grown woman wearing a one-piece catsuit this morning. She was resplendent in her black synthetic fiber suit, with belt and zipper. Oy. She had to be older than me, but not inappropriately old to be wearing it. I can't even say she didn't have the body for it. But, honestly, who the hell puts one of those on in 2007 -- at 8 a.m. no less!! It was pretty appalling.

Science of Love

This week on NBC, love "experts" pick a date (both the woman and the activity) to help a pro-football player fall in love. Then they pit that date against one that the football player picked himself (again, the woman and the date). Aside from getting to watch the yummy Mark Consuelos for an hour, it was an interesting (albeit dubious) science experiment. The not-so-surprising fact was science picked someone completely opposite than Adam's instinct.

I would relish getting a date picked out by science. Not because I'm desperate (jerks). But because I'd be curious to see if my instinct is waaaaaay off. (Shut up - I can hear your eyes rolling from here). So honestly, I think the whole experience would prove a theory of mine right. This being that people date people they want to be attracted to, rather than necessarily picking who they're really attracted to. I mean honestly, why else would there be such an abundance of sketchy places to take the date you don't want anyone to know you're on?! (Not that I'd do that, of course.;})

Bad Friend, very Bad Friend!!!

I am not going to be a very good friend. Although I am not really close to this happening, I already know the truth. Once my friends are married, and start having children, the truth will come out. Ok, enough with the buildup. Here goes...I have a complete inability to muster up any sort of excitement for other people's children. Zero. Zip. Zilch. No, I don't want to see pictures. No I don't want to hear about Skyler's birthday party. No, I don't want to hear about Madison's dance recital. The truth of the matter is, I just don't care more than the cursory, required-by-polite-society amount. In reality, I don't care a lick.

I've been getting all kinds of practice around my office. Just about everyone in the office has at least one child. Some even have grandchildren. All they do is chatter about the soccer games, basketball games, and dance recitals (one that is particularly hard to dodge since it got out that I used to dance -- what?! I didn't know sharing that little tidbit would come back to haunt me). And then there are the older children, who get suspended from school, who won't do their homework, who are all around pains in the arses. ARGH. Shut up, shut up, shut up. I. DON'T. CARE. Don't parents have anything else to talk about?

On that same subject, there's a beach out in Lake Forest that has a 21 and up section. How awesome does that sound!? Hooray being on the beach without the kids and pails and shovels and screaming. Ahhhh, bliss.

And, I know I've said it a hundred times, but I realize in a few years, when my biological clock is doing more than blithely moving along, I may want a snot-nosed rugrat of my own. (Although I can't be certain about that). But until such time, can a girl hear something other than about other people's kids? Gah!

I'm starting to think that the same goes for other people's pets too. Although, I still want a pet. I'm also still allergic. However, I added a pet to the list of things I would buy if I were making more money. I also added language classes, incidentally. *Sigh*. What is it about sending my resume to martamack that is so difficult anyway? Well, there is the co-worker glitch. She already sent her resume, but hasn't heard back. I sincerely doubt that they would take two of us from the same place. So, I suppose I'm stuck....and broke. Meh.

Can You Keep a Secret?

Because everyone on my island is oh so discreet (snicker), I'm gonna tell you a secret. But if it gets out, EVERYBODY is ejected. And I wouldn't even tell, except that the thought is in my head, rattling and won't get out unless I push it out. So here goes....I miss the engineer. Wait! Don't freak out. Come back here. What I miss, is having a objective guy friend who will listen to the randomness that is pheebee's life and give me a poignant guy's perspective. I equally enjoyed hearing about his conquests (both failed and successful. Although the failed ones were more entertaining, because boys are sooooo clueless). Given that my law school husband is now married to a real-life wife, I don't really get the chance to talk with him anymore. And, of course, the ninja is permanently off the island (stop rolling your eyes. He is!).

So, now that I've done a decent job of finding some chick friends, I am now on the hunt for a couple guy friends. Both gay and straight. (Because every girl needs a gay boyfriend). And before you even think of suggesting martamack, allow me to point out the addition to his nickname...MARRIED martamack. He's married with children. Al Bundy does not an analyzer of randomness make. And, while I totally grant his general entertainment value, he would not be the welcome recipient of drunk dials. Nor would he have his own random stories to tell. And don't go suggesting 2DP either. He's so far above the randomness analyzer -- duh! See previous ode. So, the hunt for a gay boyf and guy-friend begins!

NBC Inspired

So, today I was watching N - B - C (read that with the ding, ding, dong), and I was duly inspired by to blog.

First, the show Age of Love. Is this a sign from the heavens that I should be open to older men? Shut up, that's a rhetorical question. This show pits cougars vs. "kittens"...a clever and hilarious comparison, I might add. Cougars are the ladies in their 40s. Kittens are the chicks in their 20s. Honestly, I don't know how realistic the contest is, given that the 40 year olds are slim and trim; and only a couple of them actually have children. But here's what is slightly lame. The producers of the show were a bit sensational with the age comparisons. They showed the kittens hoola-hooping in their suite; followed by a shot of the cougars reading and knitting. I'm not certain how I feel about this. I'm a kitten, by their terms...I should like to think that I wouldn't be standing about in a bikini hoola-hooping while waiting to meet the guy.

It's funny that the show was on today in particular. I went to Starbucks with MMM today, and apparently a really old guy was checking me out the entire time we were there. Ew. Anyway, what's a regular kitten to do when her looks go? I mean, clearly that guy was checking me out cuz he's old and I'm young -- and today I was looking rather adorable with shirley temple curls. But, what happens when shirley temple curls aren't enough to cover up whatever new flaws I have when I'm a cougar? Hmm...

In related news, NBC is also airing the alleged historic interview with the princes. My only comment to that is why am I supposed to care? Honestly!

The iRack

This is hilarious. The punchline is extended, but completely unexpected. Enjoy!

Mo' Money

My co-worker (who doesn't have a handle yet) and I were fantasizing about getting a BigFirm job someday (hopefully soon) just so we could make more money. We were also speculating whether it would be worth it for the impossible number of hours we'd be required to work. Given that my company currently pays about half what BigFirm does, but also requires half as many hours, it really is a tough call. In the topsy-turvy world o' j.d.s, you have to make a choice. Quality of Life vs. Quality of Paycheck. Thus, this is a common debate among j.d.s everywhere. (To be honest, what probably sparked the whole debate is martamack's attempts to convince us both to come to his BigFirm).

Anyway, I could just imagine all the things I could do if I was making twice as much money. For starters, I wouldn't have to budget my money so tightly -- the past 8 years of being so frugal has given me a mind to be sensible...but extra money would sure go a long way on the weekends. For instance, I wouldn't have to choose between going out downtown on Friday or Saturday. I could go BOTH days!!! Imagine the possibilities...Not having to be worried that it costs $20 roundtrip in a cab to get downtown.

And of course, there are the shoes. *Sigh. I'd finally get the Christian Louboutins I've always wanted. And I could pay off my car. Boy oh boy. I could just imagine. On the other hand; would it be worth it to lose another 40 hours a week to the office?

Face Time

Technology is often accused of being the death of face-to-face contact. I can see where critics are coming from. So many of my friends are far, far away; and instant messenger makes it easy to stay in touch, and stay close. But, it makes it slightly more difficult to get close to people I meet in real life. Not so much difficult because I don't trust them, but because they can't stand up to my close friends who are far away. (Of course, the SiQ and Mr. 2DP do set the bar quite high -- {that's a mini-ode to you guys!! pheebee luvs ya!}).

Although, I will say this, technology may make personal connections less necessary than before, but certain emotions are just not as effective through type and txt. Thus, I challenge the critics to remember the last time they were REALLY ticked at someone, and note that the person never would have known just how ticked off you were, except for the fact that you were standing 4 inches from their face and telling them. For that one time alone, I am positive that technology will never actually replace face-to-face contact.

And honestly, what woman is accepting a marriage proposal over txt? Although, I guess there are people who do what is essentially a jumbo-tron text don't they? Note to y'all: when my future spouse is looking for proposal suggestions, that's a bad one. :}

Tick Tock

Dude. Remember back in October or so when I was having wicked uncontrollable mood swings? I feel those happening again. Gah! How do women put up with this every month?! And how do I reverse whatever it is I did to start getting them?!

I need a Bulls connection

I've decided I'm going to try out for next year's Luvabulls team. There is a woman on there now, who's from my home state, went to my alma mater, was born 2 days after I was, and is 3 years older than me. Basically, she is pheebee in three years. But, I can't figure out when try-outs are. All I know is that I missed them for the '07-'08 season. Anyone have any idea how I can make it happen for '08-'09?!?!

Mother Nature's Last Laugh

As we all know, there are excellent benefits to having a pet. I've always been a cat person myself (propelling me even further into old-maid status). But I've recently taken up a liking to dogs. But, sadly, it is not meant to be. For, I developped allergies in my freshman year, and I am allergic to both. And then, to cement my fate, I moved into an apartment that doesn't allow pets.

I guess these are obstacles that could be overcome. I think my landlord just used a standard form lease, and I could probably talk them into letting me have a cat. And, I know people with allergies to pets generally, who aren't allergic to their own pets. But, I don't think it is to be. Honestly, I couldn't live with the wheezing in my own house. *sigh*. Hmmm. Any leads on a hypoallergenic pet (that's pet-able and fun)?

Happy Birthday pheebee

I felt that I should write something profound, or exciting today. But I've got neither. Perhaps that's a commentary in and of itself. Don't know what that comment could be, but, what're you gonna do?

I'm going to a going away party for a friend of a friend tomorrow. Maybe something exciting will happen then.

Starter Marriage

I met my friend Chrissy's neighbor last night. And, we were discussing marriage for some reason. I forget how we got on the subject (oh wait, I remember, I was telling Chrissy about the ninja pic episode - and determining whether I was shallow enough to do something about it [no, I'm not]). Anyway he told me his master plan, which I found hilarious.

Basically, it goes like this. His first wife is going to be the mother of his children. His second wife is going to be eyecandy, a trophy wife. His third wife is going to be his soulmate for his golden years.

Study after study has shown that people are living longer and longer. And as a consequence people move more often, people are switching careers more often, etc. So, is it cynical to assume your marriage is going to end? Everything else seems as though it's ending earlier these days. Although, really what's happening, I think, is that careers and homes are lasting just as long as they always did, it's just that people have time left over. Therefore, they go ahead and find a new home, a new career, whatever.

Here's the other thing. How can he assume that he'll find 3 women that want to marry him? I'm not saying he's unattractive or unpleasant or anything like that. But how is it possible, that he can assume there will be 3 available women that he wants; when many women I know are having difficulties finding 1 man. Oof. Statistics are a sonuvagun aren't they?

Flora and Fauna

You know what I love? Flowers. So, I've made the executive decision to send myself some for my impending birthday. What I can't decide is what kind to send, or where to send them to. Ideally, I'd like some at home and some at the office. But I can't be bothered with spending all that cash, when I have an illegitimate shopping habit to feed. I imagine the most economical thing to do would be to just get up and go buy some, and put them in a vase. And then, I'll hint to people to send them to my office. And by people, I mean my parents, since they're really the only people interested in sending me flowers.

Although, to be fair, the SiQ did send me a rather fabulous tshirt that says "I'm Tight Like Spandex". HAHAHAHAHA. That shirt will def. be making an appearance when I go out -- although I'd better be careful where I wear it. I don't want people getting the idea that it's ok to wear spandex out in public when not working out. Maybe I'll just carry around a fashion disclaimer: "This shirt is for comic value, not fashion tips". :)

Last Time I do that

Ok islanders. You are officially off the relationship expert panel. I'm not taking any of y'all's advice anymore. As you know, I attempted to cut off 'bux boyf. As you also know, he was none too happy about being dismissed. But you all convinced me this was the proper course of action. Well allow me to disabuse you of that notion.

As you know, I told him I just wasn't feeling him, yada yada yada. So, I continue to talk to him here and there, offering the obligatory olive branch of friendship (note: HIS idea). You know how that's going? Miserably! I can't even stand to chat it up for 10 minutes or less anymore. The last few times we've talked, he's given me a guilt-trip. As in, "well, before you did what you did, I was going to give you a free drink coupon." And so on. Gah! I mean seriously. Man up already! I'm pretty sure I'm off the hook for talking to him...but how can I ever go to that Starbucks again? I have no desire to endure the stupid puppy dog eyes and pouting. *Sigh* I am beyond done with the young bucks.

In semi-related news, the ninja and I are on the speaking side of the pendulum that is our post-break-up relationship. Naturally, he and his g/f are having difficulties -- or so he says. Anyway, I was forced to reconsider the ending of our relationship. He sent me a cell phone pic of his sexy sexy abs. Knowing full well that I am like Pavlov's dogs when it comes to abs. (Grant it, he's always had a nice body, but dang it if he didn't put on about 20 lbs of muscle). Remind me, why did we break up again? Oh right, because of his inability to return phone calls. But....after all that hard work in the gym, shouldn't he be rewarded with the privilege of my company? Moreover, am I really that shallow?

True Calling

Like most of my contemporaries, I am wondering if I picked the right professional path. Frankly, if I thought I could keep myself in the lifestyle to which I intend to become accustomed, I'd definitely be doing something other than insurance defense. Mostly because insurance defense is not nearly as exciting as you think.

So what would I do instead? Well, what are the things I heart dearly? I heart talking about fashion and dancing. So really, I should be either a dance costume designer, OR a fashionista tango dancer. Unfortunately, I don't see either of these happening....so, law it is. Bah!

Mothers Day

Happy Mother's Day pheebee's mom! Today was a classic Hallmark holiday, and my mom totally milked it for all it was worth. For the last few years, I've been allowed to give a simple card, sometimes flowers, but generally that's it. This weekend, however, pheebee's mom celebrated in style. There was breakfast after church on Sunday; then there was viewing the musical Chicago on Saturday, and shopping on Friday. It was good times had by all this weekend.

My mom is an excellent shopping buddy -- except when she's left to her own devices. However, she's not shy about telling you that something makes you look fat. In fact, sometimes she does it without anyone actually asking for her opinion. (And you wondered where I got that from).

Anyway, as I was saying, we were shopping on Friday, and we made a stop at Ann Taylor Loft, which may be my new official fave store (for work clothes). Ann Taylor Loft (n.k.a. ATL -- the good kind) must participate in vanity sizing. Have you heard about this? Stores and brands the fashion-world-over have taken to re-sizing their clothes, so women believe that they now wear a full size smaller. Women are so easily flattered -- they believe this even though they haven't seen the inside of the gym since those first 2 weeks of free membership.

Why do they do this, you ask? Because they can, and because it works! I can't tell you how many articles of clothing I've purchased because they were a full size smaller. (Yes, I am just that vain. Any inhabitant of the island should know this by now).

Aside from a fabulous purchase, (thanks to vanity sizing), I also met a fabulous sales associate, JanHan, and official new island inhabitant. Aside from having excellent taste in shoes and bags, she's a handbag designer. Now, I checked out the site where her handbags are sold, and I am giving it the pheebee endorsement. (I feel so cool for knowing a real designer -- other than the ninja). For those who are more into handbags than I, I recommend you proceed to this site (www.fashionflat.com) immediately. And I'm not just saying that, because, frankly, I'm not that nice. (Another fact island inhabitants probably already know). I particularly enjoy the striped shopper, but that's just me. You form your own opinions :). And no, there's no island discount. Cheapskates.

Pimpin' ain't easy

Ok, so I attempted to break it off with 'bux boyf today. I think I was unsuccessful. Here's the problem:

So, I bite the bullet, and tell him that I don't think it's going to work. The reasons I give is because it's been too hard to connect, and I don't think we have anything in common. We discuss this for about 20 minutes. He gives a few rebuttals, none of which I find convincing. But I tell him that we do have enough personality connection to still be friends. (Remember, when he first started talking to me, he said that if we couldn't date, he just wanted to be friends).

Despite my efforts to be a big girl and end things, he mostly rejected my peace offering. He asked for another date! How do I get rid of this guy? Honestly?! *Sigh. You'd think this was a desirable problem....but it's not.

Beautylicious!

Today's blog title is brought to you by Jenyne M. Raines, author of the same titled book. The book is the fabulous black woman's guide to more fabulousness. A total recommended read.

What made me think of it, aside from the fact that I'm on a habitual read of the book, is my trip to the airport today. While attempting to make eye contact with a cutie waiting across the gate from me, I noticed a glamazon. She was so fabulous, with excellent hair, makeup and clothing. I will say she wasn't of the "I woke up looking like this" variety, but I was nonetheless impressed. Incidentally, I saw another woman walking from the eL the other day who was so fabulous I couldn't stop looking at her. She was epically stylish.

So that got me to thinking, these two gals were oozing style from their very pores in a way I've always wanted to do. With the caveat that I want to be of the "I woke up looking like this" variety. (I've seen some of those too, they are extremely few and far between). But, despite the ridiculous number of books dedicated to the subject; I find most women reach for this level of style, but fall short. So, is it hopeless? Are you born with it, and if you're born without the style gene, you're just out of luck? Or, is it something you can grow into?

I ultimately decided that it is something that you can grow into. And, I've also decided that I will be growing into it shortly. Case in point, I don't think it requires money, but money certainly helps. Allow me to sketch a picture for you: Think back to the days (as in, mere moments ago) when you last saw someone who was ghetto-fabulous. Not that girl from down the block, but more like 50 Cent (aka no-talent hack). He has more money than is decent, given his complete lack of talent and social responsibility, and yet has a complete lack of taste. A second example, you may remember my shameless obsession with the Real Housewives of Orange County. If you look back in the archives, you'll read a section where one Housewife was trying to get "CZs" put on her Hummer's (it was pink, if memory serves) rims. Also, not oozing style.

So, what we learn from this is that oozing style does not require money. But, money definitely helps you make a completely necessary purchase without feeling guilty about those total praise-worthy effen pumps with a red sole from Nine West (which were COMPLETELY worth the near 3 figures I dropped). We have also learned that what women believe is true...we really only dress up for each other....no man can properly appreciate what oozing style really is. :)

Top Ten Reasons

The title of my blog is "The Book I Keep Promising to Write." I have decided to give you the top ten reasons why this is an empty promise:

1. Because, my blog is only funny if you know me personally.
2. Because, I can't turn my blog into a coherent book.
3. Because I know someone who attempted to shop her blog as a book to publishers, and they told her that it was too blog-y and not book-y.
4. Because, I don't have any connections in publishing.
5. Because, if we take out all of the randomness, there's probably only 9 pages of book text here.
6. Because I attempted to write a fiction novel once, and it really wasn't that thrilling.
7. Although, that failed attempt was an attempt at a romance novel; so maybe it was a failed attempt because I wasn't writing from experience.
8. Because I don't have any ink in my printer.
9. Because I don't know anyone who would purchase it, except my friends and family, and that's really not enough people to support publishing costs.
10. Because I said so...until further notice. :)

Ok, I didn't say they'd be good reasons. But they're reasons. Of course, they're subject to change.

Alert Level: Mandarin

So lately, people keep asking me why I'm single. My answer is usually "how should I know?" I mean really, I can tell you why the relationships I've had have ended...I can't tell you why I don't get asked out. Should I take a poll the next time I pass some guys on the street?

At any rate, all the questions were starting to make me paranoid. (For roughly 18 hours). But, I'm over it, because in the grand scheme of things, I don't necessarily want a man right now. (I mean, I've had my reasons why they're useful...) But, what I want right now are chick friends. With whom I can discuss various chick things. Ok, let me clarify, chick friends who are nearby. Sorta the down side to being all kinds of cosmopolitan -- many of my friends are out of town...Some in fabulous foreign places, one jetsetting to Lebanon. Crazy huh? How cool is it to say you have a friend who's living in Lebanon?

Meanwhile, things in the C are picking up. I may even be attending a fashion show tomorrow, barring it being cost-prohibitive. If I go, I'll be all over the updated posting. Although, I was meant to be going to a fantastic girls' night event at a bar downtown -- but couldn't find anyone who was free. So, we'll see how tomorrow turns out.

Ridiculousness....

From the esteemed -- although estranged -- martamack:

http://www.macspoofs.com/2006/08/10/ps3-vs-wii/

Enjoy!

Personality Traits

Have you ever attempted to change your personality? When I was in Thailand, one of the guys (a former camp counselor) started a game called "what would you change about your personality." What would be your answer?

I'm not really big on the self-evaluation questions. Because, what kind of people lie to themselves? Really deluded people. And I'd rather not be really deluded. So, I end up answering the question, and then I am saddened by whatever horrible trait I'm unable to fix. My particular trait is the complete lack of ability to be romantically confrontational. I talk a big game, but I feel really bad telling someone who really likes me to bugger off. Now, don't get it twisted, I actually kind of enjoy blowing off a guy who is a total jerk, or THAT guy in the club. But others, such as 'bux boyf, and the Christian rapper -- wildly more difficult. As it turns out, I actually DO have feelings. (Something I'm not actually big on admitting -- which is another trait I should probably admit to wanting to change, but I'll reserve that one).

And really, how arrogant do you have to be to assume that turning someone down will hurt their feelings? Honestly, I'm not that arrogant. But I do think it's unpleasant to hear from someone that they just aren't that into you. And I'd feel terrible creating that unpleasant feeling. So, instead, I prefer to be all kinds of passive-aggressive. Thus far, it's worked splendidly, in that I can just stop answering phone calls, or I can force that person to stop calling me. (The classic reverse breakup). But, now I've gone and trapped myself with 'bux boyf. Either I confront him, and feel all icky; or I am stuck with him. Either way, I'm not entirely certain how I could ever go to that particular store again.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel....he's thinking about quitting. AND he had an interview with the Real World. Maybe he'll hit it big and move away to LALA Land.