Charming Charlie

I have a special knack for meeting gentlemen (and asshats) in random places. As a result, I have never met anyone on Match.com. Nor have I ever bothered paying for eHarmony.com (In fact, I've never been a member for longer than the five free days.)*

Anyway, like most of my (chick) friends over 30, I found myself running into these random men less and less often. Unlike my friends, I didn't blame it on my age. I blamed it on my newly claimed relationship status. I'm still cute, so clearly the Youngblood sent out a bat signal...cockblocking me everywhere for a 90 mile radius. Natch. Admittedly, his signal was totally lost on bums and skeezy guys. But those are the sorts of guys that will hit on anything in a skirt.

This morning was like any other. I woke up, got my cardio on at the gym, and then came back and took a quick cat nap. That cat nap was TOTALLY worth running late to work. Who knows, maybe it was karma that I took that nap, which led me to get on a later train. Okay, let's not be all dramatic about it. I was running late, I got on a train, I sat next to a nondescript guy.

A few stops in, this nondescript guy drops the illest line on me ever in life. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shifting and looking at me. And I am assuming he's the only person on the planet to get off at a stop prior to downtown. But no, he says to me...wait for it... "I'm sorry, but I have to ask. What perfume are you wearing? It's amazing and it's just so subtle. It's great." I don't have the heart to tell him that he isn't smelling my perfume that's buried under a sweater, coat, and scarf. Rather, the "subtle" sent he's smelling is Jergens Original Scent. Who doesn't love Cherry Almond? Instead, I tell him the name of the perfume that I did spray on before I got dressed.**

This, my dear readers, was his in. He used this to start an entire conversation. Over the course of the next three stops, I found myself staring into his baby blues, and watching him lick his lips, as he waxed poetic about how good it smells inside of Bath and Body Works. And that he's a philosophy major at a local university. And he wants to go to law school. Because he wants to use a law degree to be able to make a peaceful difference in a lot of causes he cares about. (Ugh. Pre-law students. Gag me with a spoon). Of course, I discouraged him from going to law school. And then I told him that if he truly thought he wanted to go, he should meet with lawyers and learn about their experience. To which he asked for my card. STOP. This is the part where we note that I am not attracted to this guy, at all. He's too young, too short, and doesn't appear to get enough sun. Fortunately, I don't have any cards on me. And I got to say the greatest line ever "google me, and you'll be able to find me."

So, I get off the train, and walk with a little bit of pep in my step. This small act reminded me that I still got it. But, more importantly, it showed me that there are men out there who still have the smooooveness that was so epically personified by Billy Dee Williams. This guy, even though he wasn't my type, completely succeeded in getting my attention, engaged me in actual conversation, and wasn't totally skeezy about it. This philosophy major may need to re-think law school, and open up a charm school.



*And what is up with the "flex matches"?!? Look here, Neil Clark Warren, if I wanted to be forced to settle then why do I need to pay you to set me up with men that I wouldn't normally be attracted to? All I need to do to find those guys is go outside and throw a rock. Your whole point is to find my perfect match, isn't it? Ok then.

**Bath and Body Works Forever Midnight, for those keeping track.

pheebee's mom

So, my mom read this post and decided to give me some sage advice as a result:

Ma: I read your blog today, and I thought it was funny.

Me: Oh yeah?

Ma: Yeah. And you know, I thought that you should make a new year's resolution for next year. Next year, you should do things differently. You need to get in the right circles, just like that Anna girl that got killed in the islands.

Me: *Confused look pointed at my phone.* Who? What? What are you even talking about right now?

Ma: You know. Anna something. She was so in love with the lawyer. Or he was in love with her. And she left the little girl behind. She had a son, he was in his 20s and he got killed...er...drowned or something first. Anyway, she worked the right circles and got in with the right people.

Me: Say huh?

Ma: Well, you always say you don't have any money and you don't meet people. You need to join the right clubs down there. Anna Nicole something. That's it. She was a poor white woman.

Me: Anna Nicole Smith? Mother! She was a Playboy Playmate!!!

Ma: Well that's how she met all the right people and climbed her way to the top!! *emphatically*

Me: So....are you saying you want me to be a Playboy bunny?

Ma: If you can get in Playboy, I want you in there.

Me: ... *mystified silence*... Have you been drinking?

Ma: I'm just saying. So anyway, what are you doing tonight?

Me: Watching TV. *and drinking wine...but I don't mention that part. Or that the reason I'm staying in is because a Sunday Funday is scheduled for this weekend and I need to save up :)*

Ma: See. We need to get you out from in front of the TV.

Me: sigh.

Unbelievably, this is the 2nd time my mother's suggested I be a Playmate. Coincidentally, it's not the first time she's cited Anna Nicole Smith as a role model. And, on top of all these things, she's also the one who's scarred me for life for dating an older man. So, what we've learned is:

1. I should be a Playboy Playmate
2. My particular brand of crazy is hereditary.

Yup. That really happened. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming -- and then I checked the bottle of wine I was drinking. I'd only had one glass at that point; and the glass was more than half full. Definitely didn't hallucinate it. HAHA.

She Get It From Her Momma

Astro once told me that after he saw my Ma, he knew that I had good genes. As a result, he'd want to *ahem* for at least 40-50 years. This week, Ma told me the greatest story ever, proving once again that my genes are just fine.

So, apparently my Ma headed over to church on Sunday, even though earlier that day she thought maybe she should praise from home since her rotator cuff injury was acting up. But, she went on anyway, and found herself a seat. Not long afterwards, a gentleman sat next to her. Now, I can't say for certain what he looked like, because Ma only gave me a single description: he was drunk. Ma is a good Christian woman from the South. She just isn't a huge fan of people who drink. (She calls me an alkie at least once a week.) The irony here, is that she married a man who was a liquor distributor when they met, and shortly after that, Daddy bought a bar. Hilarious.

Anyhoo. After he sat down, her new friend leaned over and said "God sent you to me." She turned to him, like "say what?" But ignored it and continued on enjoying church. So, he leaned over and said it again: "I know God sent you to me." Ma made another attempt at instituting the "sit still and maybe he won't be able to see you" method. Unfortunately, that didn't work. So when he leaned over again, she tried shushing him. Of course, this was to no avail.

This alone would have been cringeworthy and hilarious (for me). But Ma's new friend took it to a whole new level. He leaned over and said "just write your number down here." The "here" was the church bulletin.

< Pause for outburst. > PAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

So, this guy was neither shutting up NOR getting the hint. So Ma decided to find herself another seat. When she got up, she heard behind her: "Hey! Where are you going?!"

< Pause for 2nd outburst. > PAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Honestly, I'm not sure what Ma's reaction should have been. I mean, are you offended that the drunk guy was bothering you? Or, are you brushing that dirt off your shoulder because you still got it? In my opinion? Go with the latter. Moral of the story? In 30 years, I'll STILL be a pimp.

Get it from my Momma, indeed. Heh.

So worth it!

As we learned in the last post, a good story is always worth the hassle. Well, I tested this theory again earlier this week.

On Tuesday, Astro called me (out of the blue)* and asked me to go with him to a political fundraiser (aka networking event). Given my desire to raise my status as a super connector, I agreed to go.

When we got there, it quickly became apparent that I was going to have to make an adjustment to my strategy. Back when Astro was a "current" rather than an "ex" boyfriend, I'd often be more of a Jackie O rather than a Michelle O**. But, as an ex, I'm no longer obligated to fulfill that role. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, just a matter of course. So, we separate, and he goes off to meet his next investor, and I go off to meet my next sucker, er, client.

As I'm speaking to a woman, there is a guy who is standing a few yards away. He is oh, maybe just under 6 feet tall, has slicked back dark hair; a gray gimlet patterned suit, with a shiny blue tie; a shiny and obvious watch, and a tan. Basically, if someone were to play him in a movie, it'd be Robert De Niro (before he went gray). Oh, except Italian, he was Irish. (We'll get to how I know that in a minute.) So, I'm talking to this lady, and smiling Irish eyes says "wait a second...did she (meaning me) just say she's married?!" Ok. Entertaining, sure. I did like the boldness, that was cool. But, whatevs. The lady and I continue our conversation. Shortly thereafter, smiling Irish eyes says "hey Mrs. Irish Eyes, what would you like to drink?" (Ok, stop. Before you get all excited, we were at an event with an open bar.) The lady I'd been talking to was getting ready to leave, on her way out she says "this is the type of event where you could end up getting married. (sly smile)."

Well, Mr. smiling Irish eyes gets my white wine and hands it to me. I thank him for it, and he pulls me to the bar, and offers me a seat. He says "you're too beautiful to be standing." (Yes really, I'm so not making this up.) We chat for 3 minutes, he tells me he's Irish, and a friend of his walks over. The friend of SIE ask me who I came with and what he does. So I say I came with a friend who is a venture capitalist. Mr. SIE says "my friend and I are venture capitalists. We just put an in-flux of money into the economy whenever we go shopping. I always buy women's clothes and jewelry but I have nothing to do with it."***

Now, this guy is laying it on pretty thick, to the point of being comical. Except, he's being totally serious. Anyway, he goes on to say that if I want to get married, his friend is a rabbi so the friend can marry us upstairs.**** I politely decline the marriage proposal. So, it's time for them to go. Mr. SIE asks for my card, which I hand over. (Like I said, there may be a legit business prospect there, but I can't remember what he said he did. Mainly because I wasn't listening closely enough to retain anything he said). He then reaches in his pocket to hand me his card. And....it's his Amex Platinum. Yes, dear readers. He actually hands me his Amex. Now, we've just taken the evening to a whole new level. I don't even know what the appropriate reaction is at this point.

So, I'm telling this story to my co-workers, and they're all equally horrified. And so I say, well I'll let you know how the date goes. One of the girls says, "wait, what? You're actually going out with this guy?!" So, I look at her dead in the eye: "hell yeah! Either way, I get paid...either a nice dinner OR actual business because the dude has money. Either way it works out for me. And anyway, when a chance like this comes, you always ALWAYS go all in just for the story!"

So, here's hoping the sequel is just as good as the first story. Oh smiling Irish eyes, what else could you possibly bring?



*Side note? You know what really puts a bee in my bonnet? People who don't return messages -- voice OR texts! And, frankly, I'm tired of hearing that he's "busy." As near as I can tell, he just dix around all day on the computer and goes to "meetings" (most assuredly those meetings are with his dealer. If you ask me). Anyway, I don't care how damn busy a person is, unless your last name is preceded by "President of the United States" you are NOT THAT DAMN BUSY. PICK UP YOUR PHONE!!!! Ok, side bar over.

**In other words, a Jackie O is a pretty girl that is seen and not heard (and likely running ish in the background). A Michelle O is ahead of her game, and doin' her own thang (and STILL running ish in the background).

***Yes, really. I'm not making this up!

****Nearly forgot the best part. The event was held at the set of the recently cancelled "Playboy Club." Yup. Just adds a layer of shenanigans, doesn't it?

This is why I'm hot

Today, I got another memo about just how hot I am. Let me set the stage for you.

I was walking down the street, headed to meet some uber important people for lunch. I had on my red ombre stilettos. I also had on a trench coat and a scarf. Frankly, it wasn't my most fabulous outfit. Don't tell my fashionista friends, but my shoes were scuffed, I've lost a button on that coat* And, my hair got wet when I jumped off the building yesterday, so I was rocking a 'do that can really only be described as a shock of black hair.

Anyway, I was about a block outside of my building (aka, before my feet were on fire and so I was still walking normally). I was stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change. I saw a guy on the opposite corner in a black windbreaker, a hat, and he had a backpack hanging on the lamp post on the corner. He's got a big smile on his face, and appears to be talking to everyone walking by. ... Wait a minute. Is that a styrofoam cup in his hand? Oh geez. It's a homeless guy asking everyone for change. ... That's so sad. ... I don't have any cash though. Oh! The light is changing.

So, I walk across the street, and I hear "Good afternoon!! You look great today. Man, when I get a job, you better run!!!!!"

Zwerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Hold the phone. Did I just get hit on by a homeless guy? Dude! Don't you have other things you should be concerned with?!

And see? This is why I'm hot. I got hit on by a homeless guy today. Who catcalled you?!!?


*On a related note? I hate that trench. The buttons are awesome because they're heavy, but they suck for the same reason. The heavy buttons are constantly popping off. Curses.

Adventures on the eL

Lately, all of my adventures have been happening on the el. And, my adventures have mostly (ok totally) been adventures of a boy-crazy teenaged girl. *shrug*

First, on my way home yesterday, I noticed a very well dressed young brotha get on the train just ahead of me. He had on an athletic cut pinstriped suit. (Navy blue with gray stripes for those keeping track). He was well accessorized with a tie, great shoes, and a pocket square. He had a rather unfortunate scar on his bald head...you know probably as a result of being probed by aliens or getting into a fist fight with a weed wacker (he won); but I was totally willing to overlook it because he was so very well put together -- and because he carried himself so well. I took it upon myself to sit right next to him, in hopes of getting a rise out of him. He wasn't looking at me when I sat, so I didn't bother with the flirty half-smile. Instead, I made small production of sitting down and pulling out my copy of the RedEye. When he STILL didn't do anything, I giggled at an article. I don't remember what the article was about, but it probably wasn't nearly as funny as I made it seem. And? Still nothing from Mr. Pinstripe Man. So, I continued reading, dejected at the lack of forthcoming pickup line. But, we had been on the train together for a mere 5 minutes; so I didn't mourn our relationship for too long.

I proceeded to the sports section of the RedEye, where I legitimately did laugh at an article about Cutler. (Football's greatest actor). And this is when Mr. Pinstripe decided to say something. He opened with "how are you today?" Or something equally banal. I responded, and followed my fine with "just laughing at this article on Cutler...[blah blah blah] I heart football." And he said something about the Bears, and I made a snide comment about the Packers being far superior. And then, our newly budding relationship was over. He made a comment about the Bears being the city team and awesome, and I pointed out that we'd won more Super Bowls. (The sitcom voice-over that I sometimes have in my head said something like -- "and that's how he knew it would never work. He bled blue and orange, and she was a cheesehead. They were doomed from the very beginning..." What? I'm the only person with a sitcom voiceover in my head?) For the next two stops, there was a cold silence between us. When I got off the train, I looked back at him, and he totally avoided eye contact. Whatevs. I was over it.

It wasn't until I was about halfway down the stairs when it hit me. That dude only said something to me because he thought I was making all kinds of noise to get him to notice and/or talk to me! So what if it's partially (ok, mostly) true?! Dude, you're not supposed to make it so obvious that you realized what I was doing!! Also? I'm not that desperate. I don't tend to find my dates on public transpo, ok? My dates? Are men I meet in retail stores, thank you.* I don't need you, Mr. Pinstripe. Ok? I can find a date. I just wanted to have a little fun. Geez!


Anyhoo. This morning, I was sitting on the train, reading whatever silly book Amazon had on Kindle for free.** (Incidentally, the free books are generally colossally stupid, and I tend to lose a few brain cells whenever I read them.) So, I'm reading, and we come up to the next stop. I didn't see the man get on, but I sensed him sit next to me. When I looked at him out of the side of my eye, I noticed he was a tall brother in good shape. I didn't see his face from the front, but his profile was nice, a good strong jaw. And then, I got a good whiff -- ewwwww. He was a smoker! Unacceptable. Moving on.

So, on the way back from work, I was headed to the train, and on the way, I pass a Fannie May. I've managed to resist the urge to go in and buy several chocolatey delights, but today it was a struggle! As I was passing the big picture window, I noticed a young Latino gentleman. He was cleaning the counters or packaging candies or...hell I don't know (or care) what he was doing. But the boy was fiiiiiiiiiiine. He had a close-cropped haircut, just this side of a buzz cut. He had on black pants (maybe jeans? Which I hear are back in for men); and a black tank. The tank showed off his lovely muscles, smooth skin, and inverted triangle shape. And then, he had a nice tat on his right forearm. It was pretty big...and just enough badass to make any girl smile. I am pretty sure he caught me lookin' ...but I don't care. Clearly, I didn't learn ANYTHING yesterday. HA!

Hey, at least my commute is never dull!

*See: 'bux boyfriend (Starbucks); Astro (at the See Eyewear); Spritely Asian Guy (Sunglasses Hut)

**Side note? Why the eff are books so expensive on the Kindle? I thought the whole point is that it was cheaper and quicker. What's the point of owning a Kindle if the e-book is just as expensive as the hardcover -- and more expensive than the paperback?! AND I can't get awesome books from the library? Please oh please explain the point. Seriously, Amazon. You built your empire on cheap books. Let's return to our roots, shall we?

Outdone

The Summer of Exes continues. Last night, I was out and about with the Titan and a couple of his friends. Our original plan was to head out to a club downtown; but when we couldn't procure free entry, we quickly changed course and headed up north to...Wrigleyville...dum dum dummmmm!!!!

I haven't been up to Wrigley for years. Literally, years. I started boycotting it (officially) shortly after I turned 27, around the time I realized that the age limit for women was about 24. Furthermore, I was tired of being able to count the people of color. There are only so many times I can be approached by drunk frat guys in hopes that the sway of my hips and the arch of my back holds the cure for their jungle fever before my eye starts to twitch. That said, I had squat better to do last night, and the Titan is pretty to look at, so I figured what the heck. I was expecting to find gaggles of underagers and undergrads; the girls overdressed for what is really a strip of dive bars; and the guys in cargo shorts and polos or jerseys. For the most part, I was right. Most of the girls were decked out in the latest Forever 21 Lycra dresses and cheap killer heels. There were also a lot of girls in shorts, sundresses, and maxi dresses.* The guys were exactly as I thought they'd be. Cargo shorts, plaid shorts, polos and sports t-shirts.

But boy, did I see something extra unexpected at the bar. As is usually inevitable in Wrigley, there were a few dance-offs. The first was one of those classic rhythmless affairs. But, the second, left me speechless for at least 15 minutes. There was a short girl in a sundress; and she was the fairest of the fair, with dark hair. If someone was going to play her in a movie, it'd be Christina Ricci circa Monster. She was having a dance-off with some non-descript guy. Let me set the scene for you. The song that was on was "No Hands" by Waka Flocka Flame.** (Or something similar. Basically, a serious hood-rap song without much substance). Christini Ricci was gettin' her dance-off on, poppin' it and whatnot. Girl had decent rhythm, too. And then, she busted out the C-walk. No joke. She actually went off on the first contender with the C-walk. The next guy tried to keep up, even brushed a little dirt off his shoulder. She stepped to him (again with the C-Walk!) and then bent to brush the dirt off his shoes. But, this girl wasn't a 2 trick pony. When she finished poppin, and doing the C-walk, on the next song (I forget what it was), out came the heel-toe. BOOM. I was beyond impressed. Oh girl was shuttin' it DOWN.

The heel-toe, for the unfamiliar, here is a video on how to do it:


The thing about this dance -- it's SO hard! I've been trying to figure out how to do it for years. (Actually, I'm kinda glad I found this video, maybe now I'll finally figure it out). And this chick was doing it for real.

After the last song went off she left a bunch of challengers licking their wounds. She noticed the Titan trying to get me to step to her and she bar whispered to me that she was headed out for a smoke, but that she always got excited because she knew the DJ and he always "played [her] shit." HA. Christina Ricci just said the DJ was playin' her shit. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Ok, I couldn't even take it. On her way out the door, she instructed the DJ not to play any 112 til she got back. (Which had to mean Peaches & Cream, because what other song did they have?)

I wish I'd had the sense to take a video of it. But I think I dislocated my jaw after watching her. It was AWESOME. For sure made my night. Christina? Wherever you are, brush that dirt off your shoulder, girl. You got it goin' on fo' sho'. Unexpected hood = awesome. ;)



*When I was getting dressed, I was a little worried that I would feel awkward. I wore black short shorts and a Ed Hardy-esque t-shirt and heels; for those keeping track. I didn't feel old as I expected I would. Heck, I don't even think anyone knew I was older than most people in the bar. Frankly, I'm beginning to think that the origin of that feeling is a seed of BS that I was fed and isn't completely accurate. That said, upon trying on a million outfits from my closet, I did feel rather puffy. Backsliding is not part of the Mission so I'd better get back on that train.

**Who was the person in A&R that approved that name?

Gym observations

Yesterday, I was at the gym, doing some pre-repenting for caloric sins I'd intentionally be committing a few hours later. While I was doing some heavy lifting, I saw Adonis. So, it's the world's worst kept secret that I am a little shallow when it comes to men.* I've admired my share of lovely men. Well, yesterday, the bar was raised. While doing a quick set of 3 reps of some lovely curls, flys, and squats, I saw a guy walk by. Obviously...I was in the weight room so it was bound to be filled with the boys. But, a young man walked by in red shorts and a sleeveless shirt. At first, I thought the chosen workout outfit was ridiculous. He was one of these guys that not only cuts the sleeves off, but also cuts 1/3rd of the shirt off on each side, such that not only are his sleeves out, but so is his entire side. This, normally, is totally ridiculous. This time, it was totally acceptable. He was cut like a picture out of Men's Health. Then, he was the color of brown sugar melted with butter. Finally, he had a serious John Legend 5 o'clock shadow happening. He had a strong jaw, and great upper body muscles. I couldn't really tell from where I was standing, but I bet he had long thick lashes to go with expressive eyes and a kissable mouth. :). The reason I couldn't see his eyes wasn't for lack of trying though. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he saw me staring. I was shamelessly watching him in the mirror, looking at him when he walked past, following him with my eyes...I had a serious creepy stalker vibe and there was nothing I could do about it. And then, sadly, his workout was over before mine. So, he walked away and disappeared in the mist. It was sad; but it was also motivation for me to go to the gym every day -- just in case he's there again.

Despite disappearing, I was left in my reverie. He was gone, but his memory remained, and made me so very happy. But then, my reverie was interrupted. Why? Well, I'm glad you asked. I was headed to the locker room to exchange my weight-lifting gloves for my headphones (it was cardio time, baby!!!), and what did I see? Some serious foolishness that pushed the image of Adonis right out of my head. On my way, I passed a 20 year old hussy. Ok, I don't know that she was 20, necessarily. But she was a rail-thin bitch in white yoga pants, and a white sports bra. How do I know what color her sports bra was? Because this skinny bitch had on a turquoise lace crop top over it. Who the hell works out in lingerie?! Girls that mistake the gym for a daytime club scene, that's who. The sad thing is? My gym just ain't that kind of health club. Girls don't walk around in full make up, and I haven't seen nary a sequins in the Zumba classes. So please, Ms. Hussy, take your narrow-hussy-behind out of my gym before Adonis sees you. Because if you so much as give him side-eye so help me I will choke-a-bitch...and not feel bad about it. You got me? Good. Glad we have an understanding.

Adonis? I'm comin' for you baby. Just let me know your weekly workout schedule. Shoot. We already have so much in common ;)


*And when I say a little shallow, I mean totally. But can I help it if the boys are so pretty to look at!?

True Story

So, stop me if you've heard this one. But, have I ever told you about my fail at throwing an over the shoulder look?

Nearly 3 years ago now, Jade* and I were out to brunch. Brotha was fiiiiiiiine. I told y'all about it here. He was so pretty that I was having a difficult time concentrating on the conversation with Jade. A good 10 minutes of our conversation went something like this:

Jade: Wahh wahh wahawhah wah wah (Something akin to the adults on Charlie Brown.)
Me: Uh huh...
Jade: Quit lookin' at that man's ass! I see you!!
Me: What?! Oh. I'm not!!!**

Anyway, he never showed for the big Halloween bash that year. Bummer. But, it was just a random guy. So, *shrug* whatever.

Funny thing, I was out for a friend's birthday 2 years later,*** and you'll never believe who showed up. Turns out, he was a friend of a friend of a friend...probably about 4 degrees away. But, I totally remembered him. Which is surprising, because it had been so long! Sadly, he was not nearly as snazzily dressed this time. But, after I figured out where I remembered him from, I tried to remind him. He had the common decency to pretend to remember our conversation and the invite. After talking about 7 minutes, his attractiveness level quickly started to decline. He smoked, he seemed directionless, etc. His decline wasn't a big deal though, because he started out so fiiiiiiiine to begin with.

When it was time for me to leave, I didn't make any particular orchestrations to say goodbye to him. Nor did I hang around and attempt to drop hints that he should ask for my number. As we all know, pretty can only last for so long. So, while it was fun to flirt with him for 5 minutes, he wasn't worth any sort of special effort. That said, that doesn't mean I wasn't going to try to leave a lasting impression, right? Right.

So, I walk out of the lounge, and there's a huge picture window facing the street. I'd already said goodbye to just about everyone, but most of the party was sitting near the window. I was rocking a long black strapless maxi dress, and some big wedges (black, snakeskin, minimal straps that cross around the big toe. Ralph Lauren for those keeping track. DSW, thankyouverymuch). My hair was did, I had on big jewelry, and I'd just applied lip gloss to give my lips that extra shiny hue. I was PREPPED to leave a lasting impression of a night! To make it truly hot, I decided to do it backwards too...in other words, I was going to toss my hair and throw an over the shoulder sexy look. The execution of this move would stir any man to run after me because he didn't get the chance to ask me for my number. I was walking slowly (sexy doesn't rush), I took a step, tossed my hair, and...tripped...In front of the big picture window...Just as he was waving. (So you KNOW he saw me). So what did I do? I did what any self-respecting diva would do...I pretended I wasn't turning to throw my sexy look and scurried quickly to my car. And gunned it.

D'ah well. C'est la vie. Can't be a sexilicious diva all the time, right? (I hear you laughing. It's ok, I'm cracking up myself).



*Jade, the Designer. FINALLY I came up with a handle! Hooray!

**For the record; I wasn't looking at his ass. I'm not really that into butts. I was looking at his shoulders, and fantasizing about caressing that whisper soft cashmere sweater vest he had on. It was heather grey and just begging to be petted.

***This was, of course, back when I still celebrated birthdays.

All hail the V

Have you seen those new commercials for Summer's Eve: "All Hail the V!!!"? The whole premise of the commercial is showing men doing great feats for the affections of women. First, I'd like to commend Summer's Eve for using several different multicultural references and using men and women of all ethnicities. Second, I'd like to say the following: *clears throat* PAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ok, part of the reason I like this commercial so much is because it's hilarious. (See video below.)* The other reason is that I find it thought provoking. Not deep philosophical thought provoking. But shallow, interesting provoking. Things that make you go hmmm, if you will. Here's what I'm wondering. This commercial implies that men are ready to do all sorts of things: go into battle, by land or sea; joust to the death, sword fight, you name it a man will do it, all for the affections of a woman. While I don't doubt that women are beautiful enough, and the "V" sweet enough to make these things happen -- what I wonder is, who the eff are the men that are doing these things?!! The modern man is hardly willing to open doors, pull out chairs, and buy a cocktail for women (they don't know). Where, exactly, are they challenging the local douchebag (pun intended) to a duel?

Ok, obviously, the modern day equivalent to these things are other perks that women get. For example, getting into clubs for free, never paying for dinner, talking their way out of tickets, the list goes on and on. Many of the women I know have rarely, if ever, experienced these things (particularly if we're talking about on any sort of regular basis). Is it that only the extraordinarily beautiful women are getting these perks? And, by the way, what women qualify as extraordinarily beautiful? As we've previously discussed, it's not the uber-skinny. So who is it? I think we can all agree that there's just a certain "something" that the women have. My 2 cents? It's having the confidence -- and the audacity -- to ask for it. Sometimes, it's just about going for it. So, from now on, let's just go for it!

P.S. I'm totally convinced that this works for the extraordinary male, too. Think about it. You definitely know a guy who has women falling over themselves to do things for him: buy drinks, cook dinner, do laundry, etc. Care to test my theory?

*Yes kae.dae. I'm embedding a video. Again. And you'll like it.

Read this. Trust me, you'll love it.

I am certain many have seen this already.  But it's so hilarious it's worth re-posting.  I kind of wish my blogs were as funny as this chick.  Also?  For the record...I would totally do something like this...

http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/

Crickets and frogs and owls, oh my!

For Halloween, Kaia and I went to the Roof for the Black-i-Ball party. The party was pretty low-key, but still a good time. There was even a red carpet and a professional photographer! Can you believe that?!

Anyway, the party wasn't really blog-worthy, other than the fact that pheebee was hit on by a woman. What was noteworthy was the overnight stay in theWit hotel. theWit is a fantastic hotel -- by Doubletree, believe it or not! the rooms are lovely, the tiniest bit of a downgrade from Westin. Same great comfy feeling, just less luxury. I liked everything about it. Loved even! But, they have the WEIRDEST couple twists I've ever noticed.

First, the complimentary lotion was by Gilchrist. Not the first time I've seen this brand in a hotel. But, this was the first time I'd ever used a lotion that smelled like freshly cut grass. Grass! I can't say that I don't like the smell of grass. It's very summery and nice adn reminds you of an outdoor barbecue. But, why on earth would a person want to smell like it? Weird, but we can live with it. Besides, the scent is going to fade after a few minutes anyway.

And then, we went into the hallway. Excuse me, but why do I hear crickets? We are still in the heart of downtown, right? They have it piped in. Yeah, you read that right. Instead of crazy Musak, they have nature sounds piped into the hallways of the hotel. And it gets wilder. They have crickets and owls at night. And then, in the morning? Roosters, birds, and ocean waves. So, I say to Kaia, why are there roosters and ocean sounds? Where are there farms near oceans? She says "maybe in Pennsylvania. Never underestimate the Amish."

Oh geez. Dear hotel management. Please stop wasting the energy to pipe in ridiculous nature signs. It's ok if the hallways are quiet. Or, in the case of Halloween night, filled with the sounds of 4 d-bags dressed as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tossing stuff about. (True story. I found out that's who they were when these d-bags woke up the next morning, loudly yelling the title of the theme song in a ridiculous staccato voice. I could hear it through the adjoining door. Awesome).

Lactating

So, I decided to go to the gym. Oddly, I went because I assume I want to be a hot mama for the Memorial Day holiday. But honestly? This was the first time in a long time that I didn't feel like I had to go; despite the fact that I have for sure gained weight.

Anyway, this was my first time at the gym in about 3 weeks, give or take. Bad idea to take that kind of time off. Man, my skin was itching like I had poison ivy from the inside. SiQ has informed me that this itchy horrible feeling is the result of lactic acid, and is solved by eating bananas. Unfortunately, I kind of hate bananas.

I must have had enough lactic acid coursing under my skin to give the nearest infant heartburn. (See that? That's why I wanted to write this blog -- just for that one-liner right there. Clever, no?)

I'm going to try to officially jump back on the wagon. Wish me luck!

A country mile

This Sunday, after church, I went to brunch with some friends. Well, my city has this fabulous new policy of requiring everyone to carry an entire freakin' roll of quarters in order to park your car. I, unfortunately, do not have access to a bank vault at the drop of a hat. So, after about 29 minutes, I went to the front of the restaurant to get change. They didn't have any. And thus started my adventure on a country mile.

Next, I went to the concierge desk of the hotel next door, to ask for quarters. Nope, no quarters there either. They sent me to yet another restaurant. Nope, no quarters there either. So, I start debating with myself whether to risk a ticket, or just suck it up and pay to park in a structure. On my way to the car, (a $50 ticket is just not worth the $7 I'd save), I spot a cop car. I'm a little bit irritated with the city, so I decide to be snotty with the cop. I ask him if he has quarters. Would you believe he gave me $1.25? So, that's only enough for like 6 minutes, so I tell him never mind, I'll just move my car. He totally gives me the green light to not worry about getting a ticket. He's, apparently, the beat cop on the street. Although he noticeably didn't ask which car was mine. He does, however, offer me a ride back to the restaurant.

Well, I'm wearing heeled shoes, and I'm parked about 2 blocks away. Heck yeah, I take the ride. He first offers me a ride in the back, which causes me to raise an eyebrow. Instead, he lets me ride up front. When we got to the restaurant, he asks me who I'm meeting. When I tell him that I'm meeting girlfriends, he slips me his number.

I get back to my seat, and the girls ask where in the dickens I've been, one girl asked "did you walk a country mile?!" Well no, I didn't. I got a ride for a two block walk :).

iPod addiction

The other day in the newspaper, I was reading an article about Blackberry addiction. Would you believe there is actually a group, similar to Alcoholics Anonymous for people addicted to their Blackberry devices, smartphones, etc? I found myself chuckling about the article, until I got to the end.

One of the indications of addiction was taking your handheld device to bed with you. Of the people they interviewed, I believe a good 40% (it's been a while since I read the article) stated that they would rather take their handheld device to bed with them over their spouse.

Well, like I said, i thought the article was hilarious. And then I realized that I definitely take my iPod touch with me to bed. It sits on my nightstand every night. It's one of the last things I look at when I go to bed. And then it's the first thing I check when I wake up.

No need to schedule an intervention yet. I didn't have any of the other addictive habits. Phew!

The Dog ate my Blog

OK OK OK. Quit hounding me! (Pun totally intended). I have been MIA for quite some time. But really? Not all that much has happened. (Total lie). But I'd been all kinds of slacking because I was fairly certain that no one was reading. And then I got scolded (twice). So here we are, back to blogging.

So here is my re-inaugural witty observation for the day. Commonwealth Edison must be out of its corporate mind. OR hugely into subtle irony. ComEd, like other companies, is attempting to go green, and prove its green-ess through various advertisements about town. And I am completely on board with that. Especially if a company actually follows through with its green promises.

But what I saw from the train the other day was pure comedy. ComEd has been putting up signs and billboards around town to advertise how to save electricity. Yes, awesome, I totally support that. BUT, one of the billboards was...wait for it...backlit! HA. You put up a lit-up billboard touting all of the great ways to save on electricity in order to save the Earth. Thereby wasting a ton of unnecessary energy. AWESOME. HA!

Genius Award of the Day

Yesterday, I got the genius award of the day. Why you ask? Because I am a genius!

Yesterday I had to drive to an arbitration to lay some smack down. After laying the smack down, I (unfortunately) had to go back to the office. Lucky me, the parking structure wasn't full! Hooray! So, off I pull into the parking structure and secure a spot. I turn off the car, throw my keys in my purse, open the door, and hit the automatic lock. And then I think to myself, "hmm...that's odd. I never do that. But I guess it's ok, I specifically remember putting the car keys in my purse. It would suck to lock my keys in the car, but I know I'll have my purse with me." (I'm not exaggerating, I literally thought that because I have a special paranoia about locking my keys in my car).

Anyway, I get out of the car and take out the shoes I'm going to walk to the office in. For the record, I totally deserve what I get because I was only changing shoes so that I could wear my Charles David black-patent-leather stilettos to lunch with Martamack. Anyway, as I'm changing into my tennis shoes, I hear the door slam behind me. (Insert expletive here). Then I think to myself, "maybe I left the window open." Followed by "I never leave my windows down." I walk over to the other side of the car, and of course, the window is secured and up. (Insert expletive here.)

How did I get into my car after all? Well, I am quite resourceful, that's how! And by resourceful, I mean that I called Martamack and begged him to help. Thank goodness he had his car in the city. (Sadly, he's going to hold this over my head for months, I can feel it.) And then the adventure began. I spent my lunch hour going to Kaia's new job in Wrigleyville. Then I went to Kaia's apartment to get my spare apartment keys out of her purse. (Getting a wee bit lost on the way). Then I took her apartment keys back to her at her job. Then we went to my apartment to get my spare car keys. Nearly 90 minutes later I'm back at my car, getting out my bags, leaving the shoes, and going back to the office. At this point, all I've had to eat is an apple. So I stop at CVS for a quick Lean Cuisine, and see my boss standing in line. (Blast!) So I boldly walk up to him and tell him the story; at which point he promptly calls me a knucklehead. (Good, he doesn't seem to blame me, or notice that I was gone for 90 minutes). And that's how I got the genius award of the day.

Winter blues

So, today, I come home from work. And I see a bright orange glow. I'm totally panicking -- what could be on fire. Oh my goodness! Did someone break in? Did I leave some electrical appliance on?! WHAT HAPPENED?!?!

...

As it turns out, nothing happened. I just saw the setting sun, shining in my window. THAT's how long it's been since I saw the sun.

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.

The iRack

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