New Year's in October

It was a lot like New Year's Eve. I spent way too much money to go to a bar that normally doesn't have a cover charge. I was wearing a pair of extraordinarily uncomfortable shoes (that were fabulous!!!). And I wore a fantastic party dress that I purchased for no apparent reason 6 months ago but worked out splendidly for the event. It wasn't nearly as fun as it was hyped up to be. But, all in all, I would've been really mad if I hadn't gone.

And that, is my very accurate description of my 10 year high school reunion. Honestly? It was soooo not worth the $65 I paid. And, frankly, the reason it wasn't worth it probably had something to do with poor planning. However, I know I definitely would've regretted it if I hadn't gone.

In high school, I wasn't very popular (or awesome). The popular girls generally didn't give me the time of day. (These were the same girls that were too cool for school in elementary and middle school). As you can imagine, I was soooooooooooo ready to have my big (HAHA B*****S!!!!). I definitely didn't get that opportunity. None of those girls were there. Some of the nicer popular girls were there, but they were all kinds of hugs and kisses. It was weird. Even weirder, one of the girls that I was pretty good friends with in high school gave me (and the rest of us) the cold shoulder! Say what!?!? Hilariously, she's teaching theatre, speech and English classes now, and had truly turned into the crazy dramatic theater teacher. Seriously, the transformation was crazy. Picture one of your good friends suddenly morphing into that hippie teacher in high school. For the most part though, nothing truly outrageous occurred.

So, I didn't get my big HA moment, but I got to see a ton of people that I actually liked throughout high school and see what they were up to. And up to they were! One guy had toured with Prince, and another girl was a diplomat for the U.S.!! Unbelievable right? But most surprising were the number of girls who were married and/or with children. That was MIND BOGGLING! Can you imagine being married right now? Don't get me wrong, I would totally rock an engagement ring. And I am so amped for the cake and party. But to actually see the same person over and over again, everyday, and commit to love and cherish them for all of eternity? Good-ness. I am shuddering on the inside. Hmm...having recently read over older posts, it would appear that I'm totally over my desperate attempt to get into a relationship (for now).

The Glorious Return of Pheebee

I've had a lot of snide comments pass between my ears. Many of them made their way to my Facebook page. Those were mainly witty quips that could get done in 5 sentences or less. However, some things just require a full page of prose, and that's where the return of pheebee comes in. Yes friends, I'm back -- and hopefully with a vengeance.

Since most of you keep up with me by phone and email, there's no need for a serious review of what's happened in the last 3 months. But, for those of you just joining the party -- and those that need a refresher course, I figured I'd re-visit the characters that make a regular appearance in my book:

Married Martamack, aka MMM, aka Brother. An on again off again unsolicited older sibling who was invited on to the island after we met at my first job (also known as Dante's Inferno). Was kicked off the island a while later for being less supportive and more negative (and for accusing me of interfering in his marriage. An unfounded accusation at that). Has been given a passport for short-term visits, as he's keeping his negativity to himself and is otherwise able to give pretty decent advice (whether or not it's actually solicited).

Kaia. Ride or die girlfriend. A hero for actually having the guts to leave a crappy boring law job to pursue dream of being a famous actress. Also a former regular, now sporadic, partner in crime when out flirting with boys and trying to get free beverages.

The Cashmere Mafia, aka the Mafia. A group of fantastic ladies, mostly of color, with whom I used to kill every Tuesday at Martini Park. The group consisted of lots of chicas, but the main characters were Big Sis (also from my last job), Kaia, and an interior designer whom I don't think ever got a moniker. Our regularly scheduled meetings ended shortly after the big bash Halloween party.

The Young Titan, aka The Titan. A guy I met last football season, shortly before the holidays. Pretty guy, my own real life Calvin Klein model. I had to cut off all communication for about 3 months because I was sick of "just kicking it." As no one will be surprised to here, we're speaking again. My tolerance fluctuates with each passing day, but the peanut gallery seems to think I should give him a chance.

The Engineer. No introduction necessary. A guy with tons of qualities that I love living in perfect harmony in a tall, lithe frame. Said frame is unfortunately employed and living in Seattle.

2DP. Oldest and dearest friend from back home. First guy to turn me down, and I have no intention of letting him forget it. Also best friend and roomie of an ex-boyf of mine. Usually responsible for pervy remarks and overall silliness that keeps pheebee grounded and entertained.

I'm sure there are a bunch that I'm forgetting, but we'll reintroduce them as we go along. Stay tuned for future shenanigans!

Complaints Department

Current Complaints:
1. my job
2. my love life
3. my social life
4. the h'ing penguin
5. the titan
6. the shape i'm in

I don't understand, and if you do, please fill me in -- when, exactly did complaining about something automatically mean you aren't grateful about it? For example, today I was complaining (albeit publicly) about being unhappy at my job. For the most part, I got a lot of support from people in the same or similar positions. One person, (see complaint #4) was extremely vocal in saying that I should be the happiest person in the world but I'm not, blah blah blah I should count my blessings.

Well, excuuuuuuuuuse me! I was having a bad day at work, and I've been questioning my career choice for several months now. Excuse me for not dropping to my knees and being eternally grateful for being unemployed every waking second of every single day. Does the fact that I'm not entirely certain that I love my job -- or even my field, for that matter -- mean that I'm not grateful and full of praise to the Almighty because I am gainfully employed in a position that keeps me in my cute little loft apartment and fantastic shoes? Ugh, nothing like a little righteous self-indignation to set a girl's teeth on edge.

That being said, I can tie this all in to the more entertaining subject of my love life. Basically, aforementioned penguin keeps making random stabs at "trying to get to know" me. Whatever. Each time I talk to him I find my hackles raised. Sort of like walking in the sand with shoes and socks. No matter what you do, you'll keep picking granules of sand out of your shoes. SO ANNOYING! This last gratefulness comment just makes me want to throw him off a bridge...or at least off my island. The definitive answer is absolutely no!

Sniff, Sniff

I smell. In fact, I totally reek. I find myself in unfamiliar territory. I want, desperately want, to be in a relationship. I think I may even want one for the right reasons. Now that, my friends, is exceptionally weird. Most often, I don't want a relationship at all. If the time comes when I want one, then normally I want one out of boredom, or because it's winter and I want someone to snuggle with, or just to pass the time because my friends are all in relationships. While some of that is true, I can't really say that's the true motivation.

No, lately (probably the last month or so), I've been wanting a relationship for all the right reasons. Because I want to have that special someone. It doesn't take a rocket scientist (pun intended) to figure out that my craving for a relationship strictly coincides with the time I've spent with the Engineer.

The second most unfortunate thing, (the first being the Engineer living across the country) is that when the whiff of desperation is on you, a relationship is sure NOT to come. Sooooooooo, what are we gonna do? Well nothing, this feeling has always passed before, it'll be a passing feeling again.

And one other thing? Desperation or no, my standards haven't gone anywhere. And quite honestly, I have yet to find someone I care to spend more than 45 seconds with.

Under Where?

I have declared war on underwear. I HATE wearing underwear. I'm not the biggest fan of going commando either though. So what's a girl to do?

Who decided underwear was necessary anyway? Seriously, what purpose does it serve (aside from the obvious special time of month)? Here's my thing. Some masochist/woman-hater invented the thong. What kind of sane person walks around with floss between the cheeks not on your head? (Or either set of cheeks for that matter.) Floss belongs between teeth, and no where else.

The alternative is the dreaded VPL -- the visible panty line for those of you fashion backwards. Who decided that visible panty lines were such a fashion faux pas? And, even if wasn't a fashion no-no, do I really have to be bothered with wearing full coverage drawers? Ok, I know that they patterns can be quite adorable, but how adorable is it when nobody sees it, AND they're riding up uncomfortably between aforementioned cheeks? ARGH!

Ok, so the moral of the story. How do we banish underwear forever and ever?

Inaccurate Reflection

I'm watching "So You Think You Can Dance." One of the contestants says "I was really confident up until I saw myself on video, now I'm not sure." Deep thoughts from a reality show contestant. I have to day, I totally feel him on that though. Does this ever happen to you? I'm out and about, feeling fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, thanks to my super-friendly bedroom mirror. Then I get to an accurate reflective surface and it's like oh goodness who let me out looking like this?! Frankly, it's not a good feeling.

I hear we humans are quite good at fooling ourselves. When a couple is in love and gets married, they don't update the image of each other 30 years down the road. So, they still see that same glowing fabulous person that they married. Weird huh? And, I heard on the Today Show, that lots of people don't weigh themselves. Those people tend to lose less weight/weigh more. It's as though by not weighing themselves, they can convince themselves that they haven't gained weight.

Oh we humans, we're so very gullible.

HP Update

See that? That's a play on computer/printer updates. Anyway, this is a blog about the humping penguin. Here's what's been happening:

Basically, we had our first date, and he worked my last nerve. Then, he kept working my last nerve. The short version of the story is, I was a total pill and sick of listening to a story that wouldn't end, so in an effort to get him to make a point, I said "land the plane." I fully acknowledge and admit that this was not appropriate first date banter. I even half-apologized after he pointed it out. But, here's where he starts tap dancing on my nerves. He kept repeating it after aforementioned apology. Ok, I deserve it. 5 times in one day, fine. Incidentally, after the date is over, he hugs me goodbye, and I think to myself "Sigh. Not nearly as hard as the Titan -- abs I mean! Get your mind out of the gutter!!!"

Anyway, over the course of the next week or so, I hear/read this phrase over and over again. So, finally I say, let's drop it forever and ever Amen, ok? So, I think this is the end of it. I think wrong, he says it again! I am BEYOND irritated, and I tell him so (albeit in a nice way).

Anyway, we don't have anymore dates. He doesn't ask, and honestly? I don't particularly care. Thereby winning the bet I had with the Engineer, (a bet he squelched on, but that's a story for another day). We do, however, continue to talk, and forge a friendly, networking relationship. he even brings me chocolate (in an attempt to bribe a co-worker into using his web-hosting company).

He even takes me out for beverages for my birthday. Yeah, things get a little strange at that point. He calls me, after said beverages, and makes a ninja-style proclamation. He says that he's failed at every relationship he's ever had, but he wants me in his life always. So, ok, that's...interesting.

Anyway, today, he brought me flowers. He said it was because he'd seen my posting on Facebook wishing that a guy would bring me flowers. And might I mention, that is a GREAT way to start the day. (A day that quickly went downhill, but that's a story for another day too.) So, I called to say thanks, and he asks me to send an email thanking him so his boss could see that this was the way to do business. So, I'm totally cool with that. And then he calls back later, and would you believe the first words out of his mouth are "land the plane"? I swear I could've killed him. Instead, I hung up on him (with warning). Then, I called back and told him that my phone got disconnected. ARRRRGH!

Ok, so the moral of the story, I'm never ever ever gonna date this guy.

Hitched or Ditched

So, I'm watching The CW's new "reality" show "Hitched or Ditched." Ironically, the gay community staged a protest down Halsted as a result of California's narrowly upheld ban on gay marriage.

Anyway, I think this may be my new guilty pleasure show. The basic premise of the show is a couple that's been dating forever gets a free wedding. The catch is that they only get 7 days to decide whether they want to get married. On the last day, at the wedding, everyone is all dolled up, dress is on, ring is picked, cake is baked, and then the couple decides whether or not they'll be married. Unbelievable, right? It's purely craziness. In the first news, it's a couple that's been dating for far too long, and has yet to commit. Both families think it's a bad idea. They've each said that they aren't necessarily sure. As I watch this, the bride is at her bachelorette party, and she totally denies that she's going to get married. The husband decides to go crash the bachelor party. (Idiot). Drama, of course, ensues -- including him throwing a bottle on the floor while being interviewed by camera. No, he didn't throw it at anyone.

He tells the bride that they need to go, and pulls her out of the bar. She tells him that she's not ready to go -- and proceeds to go back in the bar and drink and party more. Good for her! Idiot. Who crashes a bachelorette party?

I can hardly wait for the ending to see what happens. Which only pumps up my interest for future episodes! Hello, guilty pleasure. :)

Cud chewers

Ok, I admit it. I just don't understand why some people believe it's ok to walk around chewing with their mouth open. I'm in 'bux today, and I just couldn't help myself. I was staring. This girl, a little blonde yuppie girl, enjoying her cinnamon swirl coffee cake. WITH HER MOUTH OPEN. Seriously! It wasn't like a my-nose-is-stuffy kind of chew. It was a I-have-no-home-training kind of chew. I don't understand how she doesn't have TMJ with that super hard chewing.

Equally as bad? The ninja. First of all, he's in flat out denial that he chews with his mouth open. But, he also drinks like he's just spent 15 days in the Sahara Desert. NO beverage is that good. Not a tasty 'bux drink, or an adult beverage, or some magically delicious combination of both.

Oddly, it doesn't bother me at all when people talk with their mouth full. I can only assume that this is a result of my enjoyment of lively dinner conversation. Witty banter is a near impossibility if everyone is sitting about chewing politely.

In other news, I nearly called the Titan this weekend because I really wanted a boy to play with for my birthday. I was successful in resisting the urge, given my incredible disgust for feeding a big-headed man's ego. Hopefully my resolve holds out.

In still other, (more important) news, the Engineer will be making another trip east. Which, of course, means that I have between now and then (10 days) to drop all the weight I gained since he last saw me in San Francisco. Note to self: stop eating tasty and delightful things, and start eating icky healthy things.

Motivating factors

See this? This is me writing a blog about nothing instead of doing any sort of packing. Lately, I've noticed my energy being completely zapped without warning or reason. The last time I felt like this, it was a direct result of the sheer magnitude of displeasure for my job. Now, I hardly feel the same way about my current position. Sure, I'm not the biggest fan of my current position. But, it's not so bad that it makes me want to stab myself in the eyeball. On the other hand, I guess I'm not all that enthused about it either.

Anyway, this lack of energy has been extending to my workout regimen. (Enter the feeling of missing the Titan for his obvious motivating energy). Unfortunately, I've only been to the gym once in the past three weeks. Bah! This is terrible because a.) I don't look as cute, and b.) I have a very special visitor coming in 3 weeks. How does one get motivated to drop some weight in 3 weeks so that when a certain engineer arrives into town his jaw hits the ground?

I really need to re-commit to my general goals. Suggestions?

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 :).

Day late, dollar short

I haven't blogged in forever. And yes, quite a bit has happened. But I said to myself, "pheebee, does anyone even read?"

And then I started getting scolded over and over and over again. So, here I am, updating you!

First, let's start with the Titan. It's just as good as any place to start. As it turns out, my tolerance for pretty without substance has gotten longer, but only slightly. Rather than three months, he made it about 4.5. The week before it was over, I talked to him on the phone. It was a Saturday. All day Friday, I hyped myself up to end it. I totally declared it to about 3 different people. Then, when I spoke to him, I punked out. I know, shame on me, right? Instead, exploited a comment that he made (about how I needed to show up in the relationship. Excuse me? He hadn't seen me in 3 weeks at this point, and I needed to show up? Pah!) Anyway, I suggested that maybe we should take a break. He got all puppy dog big eyed on me (yes on the phone, you know the whimpering whiny voice), and convinced me to "have a talk" before taking a break. His reason? He didn't want to get used to not having me around. (Pah!)

Ok, so I tell him I'm going to call him on Sunday for aforementioned talk. And he doesn't answer. He doesn't answer for the entire day. Nor does he call on Monday. So what do I do? I text him on Monday evening and tell him that I couldn't take it anymore. And he proceeds to break it off via text message, saying he never got over the DC trip. What the heck? Well, my pride is hurt, and I'm really irritated that he brought up D.C. again. So I decide to test my theory of how he's so much like the Ninja. Turns out, just as easily manipulated. So we have a text messaging war, and he asks if we can talk on Tuesday while I'm at work.

Let's fast forward ahead to the end of the week. He comes over on Saturday, ostensibly to have the "talk". I say I'm pretty much done with the hanging out portion of the relationship. He says he isn't mentally ready for a relationship. I say I don't want a relationship today, but I want to know whether or not it's in the realm of possibility. Yup, he basically wants to keep hanging out. So I end it. He hangs around the apartment, throwing out every topic he can think of to stall. Finally he leaves. I'm sad, I mope and mourn for three days, and then I'm done.

Now here's the screwy part. Almost 2 weeks later, he calls me at work. Say what? So, I'm all kinds of confused when I answer the phone. And he's all cheery. He wants to see me before going to Rio. Say what? I ask him what for. Frankly, I think that he's just trying to get a little break-up make out before going to Rio, but why? Rio is the land of gettin' it on with hot Brazilian babes. What does he need me for? Anyway, I had plans everyday before he left. In the midst of the conversation, I say something about how we'd ended it. His response -- and, incidentally, the source of my current confusion: "well, we didn't really end it. We just took your advice and took a break."

What? I've never had anyone deny a break up. Any explanations? Haven't heard from him since he got back from Rio. But if the Ninja is any indication, this probably isn't the last of it. Of course, if the Ninja is any indication, I should probably not be talking/blogging/thinking of him, because that's when they tend to pop up.

Homophobic

Ok, so normally I make fun of people who are homophobic. Frankly, I think it takes some serious arrogance to be so full of yourself (as a straight person) that you think all gay people are trying to hit on you. usually, this is only applicable to men, but you get my point. My favorite source of homophobia is often the gym locker room. To hear a straight man tell it, every guy in the locker room that isn't straight is ogling their locker room-mates the way an eagle eyes its prey. I usually erupt into a fit of giggles at this point. Seriously? Those gay men aren't impressed with you.

Anyway, recent conversations have revealed that the Titan is even more homophobic than the typical black man. I think it's in a black man's DNA to be at least somewhat homophobic.

All this backstory for this: I was at the gym today and after cardio class I needed to take a shower. (My shower is under construction). Anyway, as I walked into the shower, an older Asian woman was standing in the shower, bathing, WITH THE DOOR OPEN. Ok, I'm all fine and good if you are pro-nakedness. That's cool. But why are you showering with the door open?!!? Anyway, I choose to ignore this, and proceed to a shower in the corner, close to the wall. As I'm standing there, taking out my shower cap, I hear (but don't turn to look at) her walk out of the shower and in my general direction. Ok, fine, do what you do. I could see that there was a bag of shower stuff hanging on a hook, she probably needed shampoo or what have you. And then I hear "Oh! Excuse me..." In a "gee, I hope you brought a big hammer!" kind of way. (Insert the bow chica wow wow music here). My first thought is "how can you possibly be surprised. Pheebee is a nice caramel-chocolatey color, standing in front of a gray wall. It's not like I blended in. So, I turn to ("d'oh! she's still naked!") and say that's ok. And she reaches into the bag to get whatever the heck she needs. And then she walks (I hear, not see) back to the shower. I assume she leaves the shower open.

Ok, all of this is a little disconcerting. I spend the next 15 minutes in my shower stall WITH THE DOOR CLOSED, wondering if there is a system in the girls locker room too? Have I unwittingly been propositioned the way the good Senator Larry Craig of Minnesota (allegedly) propositioned some dude in the airport bathroom? My fears are only intensified when I hear her flip flopping back to the wall (and incidentally, near my stall) and feel cold USED water droplets on my shoulder. I assume she shook her wet hair out or something. But, excuse me, please keep your cold wet and USED water to yourself and out of my stall, thank you. Then I say to myself, hmm, perhaps the older Asian lady is after a nice piece of caramelly chocolatey pheebee. EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Well, I did manage to leave the shower without incident. But I definitely wrapped the towel a twee bit tighter around myself. Honestly! I'm cool with being hit on by a chick or what have you. But can we keep the naked propositioning to ourselves? Thanks.

This whole line of thought, and subsequent posting, really gives me a twee bit of empathy for the homophobics out there. They are still completely ridiculous. But, I guess I'll have to take a little bit of the skepticism out of my eyebrow arch the next time I hear some straight guy whine about the gay men in their locker room. But only a little bit...

Gentleman Friend

Question of the day. What makes a guy your boyfriend? At what point are you "official"? Is a "talk" or declaration required? Among my friends and the Mafia, we can't agree. For me, once I am exclusively dating someone, that person is automatically my boyfriend. For other friends of mine, exclusively dating is separate and distinct from boyfriend. In fact, only those worthy of "meeting the parents" are boyfriends. So when does it happen?

SiQ and some other friends have begun referring to the Titan as my boyfriend. Mostly they do it just to get under my skin. But, SiQ argued that he and I are all but dating exclusively (as far as we know), and have been doing so for quite some time. But I tell her and others that we have not had a discussion about exclusivity. Therefore, we are technically allowed to date other people. In fact, not that long ago, I considered going out with the Humping Penguin. HP was making a full court press for about a day -- make that a morning -- but he never followed through. Technically, I could've gone out with him.

Then, of course, there is the Engineer. My current date to the international madwoman's wedding. Right now, the Engineer isn't in the Titan's consciousness. The Titan has no right to know, since we aren't exclusive. All the exclusive talk will do is force me to mention the Engineer and the convoluted mess that spans across three time zones. How is that good for anybody?

So, my official stance on the boyfriend question is that a "talk" must be had. Until such time that we talk, I am a swingin' single baby!

It Girl Out

So, I have finally used up the last of my perks from when I was the It Girl. On Sunday, I used my gift card to the fancy schmancy shoe store.

Officially, I have purchased the most expensive shoes I've ever owned (boots notwithstanding). Grant it, I didn't pay full price out of my own pocket. But, I was hesitant to buy them anyway. Something about spending that kind of money on a pair of shoes that I will likely wear maybe 4 times just seems outrageous. For the record, they were $130 + tax. I had a gift card for $100 and then a $10 frequent shopper discount. (No, I'm not a frequent shopper, but they gave it to me anyway).

But here's the thing. People spend this kind of money on shoes all the time. Grant you, they are super cute. But why oh why are you spending $130 on a single pair of platform hot pink sandals? Admittedly, they are super comfortable. Maybe if they turn out to be as comfortable as tennis shoes, I'll figure out why they're worth $130.

Weight Watchers, Schmeight Watchers

Ok, so I was all for setting an attainable weight loss goal. For those of you keeping track, the goal was 2 lbs a month from January to September-ish. I was a gym bunny, right-eating, machine. It's been roughly 6 weeks, and I am SICK of it. I am exhausted, and really tired of the gym. I've managed to skip two scheduled days this week, and still take the usual 1 day off. Normally, I feel horrible about this. All kinds of bad about myself and all that jazz. This time, I don't feel anything but content. It's odd, but it's as though I got really burned out really fast. I'm not sure what that means.

One of my usual motivators was seeing results. And my past few weeks of serious gym bunnyness and weight watchers-ing has been pretty good to me. In fact, it makes me think that my goal is actually attainable. Except, I don't care to bother getting there. I'm wondering if maybe I need to cut down from 5 days to 4 days. On the other hand, I wonder if I cut down to 4 days, if I will eventually excuse myself from going at all?

Oh, as a side note. They say that when you skip breakfast, you actually end up snacking more during the day. Well, I will raise my hand to that one. Today, I intended on eating a protein plate from Starbucks (I know, it's overpriced and I could totally make it myself, but I have yet to remember to purchase the requisite ingredients when I am at the market). Anyway, my friendly local Starbucks was all out. So, I had no granola bar and no protein plate. I spent the rest of my day in search of snacks. Fortunately it was too cold to bother going outside to forage. I can't guarantee that I won't be late-night snacking on some unearned popcorn though!

Raise Your Right Hand

DeBeers had an ad campaign for a while that had a tag line that said "Ladies, raise your right hand." The gist of the ad was that you're saving your left ring finger for the rock that the love of your life buys you. But, as a modern superwoman, what's keeping you from beautifying your right hand? I took this to heart, given my abysmal dating history.

I've been planning to get myself this ring since I got my first job. Well, I am on my second job, and still no new and fabulous right hand ring. Well, when I was in Boston, I saw the most fantastic right hand ring. It was $1800. Naturally, I left it in Boston. But it was black and white diamonds, set in white gold. It was some serious bling. But it was "understated bling" as kd. called it. (See it here). Well, when I got back home, I googled it, and I found the store's website, where it had been marked down to $1200. Nope, still can't afford it. Then, I checked it again with the intention of emailing it to my mom, and it was marked down to $906.50. Still can't afford it, RATS! So, I figure, maybe I can find a jeweler to make it more cheaply. I call the jewelry store up in Madison that used to design jewelry. I emailed them a picture, and they said they could definitely make it. But it would cost $1500, since they would use quality diamonds. (The one in the picture uses a lower quality diamond and metal. Something I wouldn't have even bothered to look at if he hadn't said something).

Well, the sale ended before $900 managed to appear in my account, so I still don't own the ring. But, I have officially decided that I will get myself a fantastic right hand ring made by the jeweler in Madison by my birthday. I have even called the jeweler and made plans to make plans. This, my friends, is an official declaration of a goal. Ready, start saving!

Pet Mountain

While in Boston, kd. asked me about my love life. Mainly to avoid telling me why she won't get with this young cutie in her arch school. Anyway, she asked me all the important details (i.e. what does he look like). When I told her about the titan, her reaction was "that's not a Titan, that's your own pet mountain!" A reaction which was awesome and hilarious! That may be his new psuedo-nickname. He'll always be the titan, but secretly he'll be my pet mountain.

Anyway, just after I got back from Boston, my pet mountain asked me to be a basketball wife. Let me explain. The second week after I got back, I texted him to say that we needed to get together and talk and such. I didn't exactly tell him that it was going to be a "Talk," but that is essentially what I'd planned on. I was seriously considering kicking him off the island. But, his response was to ask me to come to a basketball camp and watch him play. I figured, and island-council members agreed, that there was no way I could screw with his game by telling him everything I'd planned to tell him.

Good thing I didn't say anything. He wasn't just playing a game. He was going to what was essentially a tryout for a basketball team in Mexico. I found myself sitting on the bleachers with all the other friends, families, and basketball wives. I was definitely a basketball wife that day. We were there for a solid 4.5 hours. Yikes. I had a nice pounding headache too, because one basketball wife let her brat fake cry for the first 2 hours. And just let him do it. I wanted to choke her for letting him, and then scream at him to just shut up.

As it turns out, we ended up having the Talk (part 1) on the way back from the basketball camp. He brought it up, because he said he'd sensed things had changed. So, I told him that I was having problems, because the Ninja-esque qualities were starting to bug me. I told him almost everything that was bothering me. Basically, I want to see some A game. None of this C and D game nonsense. I sort of expected things to end shortly after the conversation. He shocked me though. He agreed that we had some problems, but he actually said "pheebee, I think that whatever differences we have, we can work them out."

Then, the next day, we had the Talk (part 2). He told me the things about me that bug him. Essentially he wants me to be more of the nurturing type of woman. I told him I can do that, but usually only after a guy makes me feel like a princess. We'll see if it actually happense. Unfortunately, I left for Boston about 3 days later, so no chance for him to prove himself. Although, while I was in Boston, he promised me a make-up Valentine's day. I'm still waiting for that to happen, and it's been a week. But, I'm trying to give the man the benefit of the doubt; I only saw him briefly since I've gotten back, so no need to start sabotaging it yet.

Travelocity

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually tired of travelling. Crazy, huh? I realized this when I was travelling to Boston. I was in Boston for an ABA Conference as part of my plan to take over the world. But, while I was there, I realized that I wasn't in the mood to do much sightseeing. Nor did I want to go to all of the important places that a person goes to when visiting the city. All I wanted to do was lay about in my hotel room. (Of course, I didn't do any of these things).

I finally met up with my friend from college, kd. She took me to all of the important places, like Quincy Market, the Little Italy neighborhood, the Freedom Trail, Boston Public Library, and Trinity Church. (I know I said I'd post pictures here, but I figured you'd rather have a post than wait for me to actually put some pictures up.)

We also had a little adventure attempting to get me some good New England Clam Chowder -- because one does not go to New England and not eat clam chowder. So what happened, you ask? Well, kd. had heard about this resto that had the best. clam chowder. EVER. Unfortunately, when we got there, it was not open for lunch service. Bummer. But, we were told to head two doors down to a different resto, they would have the 2nd best clam chowder. So we walk through the connected hotel (as a side note, you can seriously walk 6 miles and never go outside in Boston. Maybe it was just where I was, but I swear all the buildings were connected). Anyway, as we walk through the hotel, we ask the desk clerk a good place for clam chowder. He both suggests the aforementioned resto next door, and then calls the concierge who makes the same recommendation.

So, we get to the resto, and no clam chowder! It's not even on the menu. So, kd. is about to gnaw her arm off, therefore we decided to go ahead and eat anyway, and save the clam chowder for dinner. I order a tasty and delicious burger, with barbecue sauce on the side. Tasty and delicious right? The waitress raises her eyebrown when I asked for the barbecue sauce. So, I repeat myself, thinking she was confused about the "on the side" portion of my request. No, that ain't it. She says, "we don't carry barbecue sauce." Say, what?! How are you a restaurant and don't have barbecue sauce? I am speechless and confounded at this point. It is here where I am officially done with Boston. Not because of one resto, mind you. But because this is, apparently common! I talk about it for the entire day, and kd. random people on the street, waiters, hotel staff, all agree that this is normal. In fact, instead of outrage the first reaction I got was usually "did they carry ribs?" WHAT?! Please tell me what one has to do with the other? Argh!

Otherwise, Boston was neat. I had fun finally seeing kd. And I always enjoy being in a new city. And I have resumed laying seeds to take over the world. Oh! And the hotel where we stayed was connected to the greatest mall ever. Have you ever seen a stand-alone Jimmy Choo store down the hall from a stand-alone Charles David store? AND Louis Vuitton store? I haven't! It was an awesome mall.

Gettin' off the couch

Ok then. Tons of things to update. What to start with? How about the new gig. Basically, I have rejoined the world of productive society. Yee haw! Actually, I am not yee-haw-ing at all. What's all of this nonsense about working being apart of sense of self and all of that nonsense? Are you kidding me?! The most awesome thing in the world was laying upside down on my couch and getting paid to do so. So many people reminded me of how I'd get bored, and how slow it would be. Well, to that I say, PAH! I miss my Steve Wilkos, my Dr. Phil, my various Judge shows. Bastidos.

Anyway, the job itself is good. I am enjoying learning a new area of the law. I'm dabbling in employment law a bit, and the silly and ridiculous things that people do at work are bound to be entertaining. And, I'm finally dealing in business law, which is what I went to law school for in the first place. And, given that no one was going to keep paying me to sit on my couch, I guess it's just as well that I found someone to pay me. (Although the jury is still out on the people there).

Whoa!

Ok, ok. I fully acknowledge my complete lack of ability to post in a timely fashion. But much has been going on, and I've been caught up in something resembling a whirlwind. However, my dear friends, I promise on pheebee's intended book that I will be posting before the end of the weekend. This weekend is my official catch-up-on-shi-thangs weekend, and blogging is right up there. In fact, I plan to use it as a way to procrastinate and avoid doing other things that I should be doing. (Cleaning, laundry, etc.) So! Here is my official declaration to actually put something down on virtual paper by the end of the weekend. I promise! (Who knows, there may even be pictures :}).

History, unplugged

I went to a history lesson on Tuesday, January 20, 2o09. It was AMAZING. There are no words to describe how awesome it was to be there. I went with 2 other members of the mafia, Amethyst and Mary Jane. We stayed with my law school big sister. Anyway, enough background, on to the good stuff.

We arrived late Monday night, and hurried to get ourselves in bed after eating round pizza in a square box. We set our cell phones to go off at 3:45 a.m. Thankfully, when it went off, our hostess told us that 4:30 may be too early to get there, since the gates weren't opening until 9:00 a.m. So, we re-set the alarm for 6:00. Well, we turn on the television when we get up at 6, and what do we see? People wandering about on the National Mall. Crap! So we shift into turbo gear and haul arse out of the apartment. On the way to the Metro, we stop at Rite Aid and get various provisions for the journey. Now, statisticians had used the number of people predicted to show up, and the ratio of port-a-potties to people was 1:300. that's right. 300 people for every 1 port-a-pottie. Yikes. So, there were no liquids bought for pheebee, outside of one shot of 5 hour energy drink. Mary Jane and Amethyst both bought some V8 and Powerbars. I stuck with the yummy trail mix that my mommy packed me. Our hostess was the big spender with bagel and juice.

So, we jumped on the Metro at approximately 7:00 a.m. Any self-respecting eL rider would've been unimpressed with the crowd on the Metro. Those not from NYC or the Chi really found the Metro completely crowded and claustrophobic. Those used to it were cracking jokes about levitation. We also nominated ourselves in charge of getting people off when it came town. (Loudly proclaiming "COMING OFF!!!") We were thanked with shoving of gratitude. Upon arrival to the Federal Center station, we separated from our hostess because she had a ticket. We followed the herd to the nearest open spot on 14th & Independence. It took about an hour and a half to get there. (It was .9 miles away -- I just google mapped it). We arrived at our ultimate spot with a good angle on a monitor around 10:15 or 10:30. On the way there, we purchased hand-warmers (and were promptly ripped off too). Amethyst was especially hurt by this because she bought a pack of handwarmers and toewarmers and left them back home.

The crowd was peaceful, and friendly. To keep warm we started doing -- in a group with perfect strangers -- calisthenics, tae-bo, and (my favorite), the cha-cha slide. As the crowd started to swell, and people were getting colder, there were people who would get agitated. Immediately, someone would step in and remind the agitator that today was not the day. We were here for history. We all froze together, watching Mr. Obama take the oath of office. Of course, there were people around with no home training (including a guy who stood on his folding lawn chair). Mary Jane got pushed off the curb by a really big guy who lost his spot. But, we endured to see his hand on the Bible. For me, the most powerful momentn was when all 2 million people, at the direction of the preacher giving the invocation, said the Lord's Prayer in their own native tongue, at the same time. 2 million people saying one prayer was incredible. Plain and simple.

And then it was time to go. We all turned to the back, moved a couple yards, and then stopped and stood. Something, somewhere, was blocking. So, a guy who had climbed a tree to watch, started telling us that we all needed to move right. Hilariously, people started yelling "right! move right! RIGHT! MOVE RIGHT!" You could hear it as the rumor started moving through the crowd. Incidentally, during this process, someone muttered "as his first presidential order of business, I want Obama to get us all out of here." We all giggled around him. I told him that this wasn't Malcolm X. He couldn't just put his hand up and point. (If you haven't seen the movie with Denzel, then you should go rent it so you can get that joke).

Anyway, 2.5 hours later, we finally got on a train. We were all whiny and grouchy, but it was totally worth it. We stopped at a restaurant near the Metro station, and ran up our bill ordering coffee and Baileys (2 each -- we were really cold!). We also discovered the joys of putting the still hot hand warmer under our bra straps and in our waist bands. Ahhhh, warmth. We then headed back to our hostess' apartment (she still had to work at a reception held by the Congresswoman she works for). And then we watched the inauguration on t.v. HA!

All in all, I WAS THERE!

Clash of the Titans

Ok, so before I left for a lesson in history, I was supposed to see the titan. We made plans on Thursday to see each other on Friday. On Friday, he called me on his way to the gym, as usual. He'd gotten off of work early, so I asked him if he was still planning to be ready at 8:30, or if he would be earlier. His response? "Oh, actually, I was planning to watch the Bulls game with D, and so I was thinking about closer to 10:00, 10:30." To which I said, jigga-what?

Let's review the circumstances here. He hadn't seen me in a week. I was going to be out of town for a week. This is the beginning of basketball season. This was a Bulls game against the Cavs. And he's a CELTICS fan. So, basically, I got blown off to watch a non-important, soon-to-be-repeated basketball game with your boy that you see all the time?! Oh h--- naw!

Needless to say, I was really ticked. So, I ignore his text (notice he didn't' call at 830, he texted). Then I ignore his text that came through at 10:30 -- presumably after the game. He finally calls about 15 minutes later, and is all in a tizzy because it's not like me to ignore his text messages. So I tell him I was far too angry to answer his text messages for the aforementioned reasons. So he starts playing the victim, which only serves to make me more angry. He says that D was going through some things, and having problems, and needed a friend, and he was just being a good friend, but he guesses that he "was being punished for being a good friend". So I say, you didn't tell me ANY of this before. All I was told was that he was going to watch a stupid basketball game. Had I known, I may have been more flexible. His response? That he didn't know how bad it was until he got there. This, of course, only served to prove my point that he was only going to watch a basketball game that had no importance.

*Sigh*. He's making it so hard to keep him on the island. I really want to. When he's around, he's an exceptionally nice guy and fun to be around. But I don't know how much longer I can handle his laziness. I keep telling people that I'm not sure it's fair of me to vote him off the island without giving him an opportunity to remedy the situation. And I figure he isn't used to girls wanting more from him than looking pretty and showing up. But, I've always been one to say that it doesn't say Coach on my jacket. I'm pretty sure it still doesn't, but I did just buy a new coat. Maybe it's there...?

Rear Wheel No-Drive

As we all know, I love my car. But, word to the wise, if you live in the snow-belt, don't buy a car in the middle of the summer. (Although I didn't go in completely naive. I asked around about driving a rear-wheel drive car in snow, and was assured that while it's a hassle, rear-wheel drive has come a long way and therefore shouldn't be an issue. HA! Jokes on me).

Yesterday, after hounding my parking landlord (not to be confused with the owner of my condo) he finally did some shoveling. Yeah, you read that right. He actually used a shovel, as opposed to a snowblower. At any rate, I knew my car wouldn't move before the snow in the lot was removed. After he was done, I hopped in my car to go to the grocery store.

And then, my car got stuck in the alley. Awesome. So I wander into my building to get a shovel, and the maintenance guy is standing there. I tell him -- in passing -- that my car was stuck AGAIN. This is the same guy that pushed me out along with a neighbor last time. He offered to come outside and have a look. And then he pushed me out (alone this time). As it turns out, he had a Camaro back in the day, and got rid of it after 3 years because it kept getting stuck, even after having sandbags and such in the car.

Anyway, I was kind of concerned that I wouldn't be able to get back into my parking spot, but there was an impending blizzard and I needed to go to the grocery store. So off I went. I also stopped at Target and enjoyed it immensely. (It's a shame this isn't a shopping post, because I did some visual damage at Target!).

When it came time to get back into my spot, I started praying before I even got to the unplowed alley. And....I got stuck. AGAIN. Fantastic. Even though I'd just purchased a gift card for the maintenance guy in the building, I really REALLY didn't want to impose on him again. Instead, I went to the business on the other side of the fence from my parking spot -- where my parking sticker had been kept. I asked, pleaded really, if someone could please please help me move my car from the middle of the alley. The guy at the front desk cheerfully agreed to help, telling me how the very same thing had happened to him. As he's pushing, a neighbor of mine (totally separate from the two that helped me before Christmas) was driving up, and offered to give me a push. She also offered a story about how she used to have the same problems with her old car, despite having sandbags and the like in her car. She also mentioned that she used to carry kitty litter in her car for traction (I may have to try that). Now, we've got 2 people pushing on my car as its wheels spin 'round and 'round like a top. A third neighbor is walking through the alley and notices all of the huffing and puffing going on. He walks over and says, "hey, need some help?" Proceeds to put his cigarette in his mouth and PUUUUUUUUUUUSH! And voila! I'm in my spot.

Moral of the story? My next car will be a heavy, front-wheel drive or four-wheel drive car. I say now. As much as I love my car that I'm thinking of getting another one when it's time to upgrade.

I seriously think I need to do something for my guardian angels, although I don't know which units the other 2 live in. I was thinking cookies. But then, on the other hand, I was thinking that maybe I should be sensitive to folks' new year's resolutions. At any rate, suggestions anyone?

Time, redefined

My mother likes to quote my 8th grade history table when referring to me. Evidently during a parent-teacher conference Mr. Hoffman told my mother that I seemed overly busy. (Which was totally true. Dance, viola, piano, cheerleading -if memory serves). But, he said, "if you want something done, ask the overly busy person." I fully buy into this theory. I find that the more I have to do, the more efficient I am.

Which brings me to my current blissfully and temporarily unemployed state. I can get one thing per day done. Seriously! I am completely incapable of doing anything productive these days. Something about having nothing to do turns me into a lazy bum. Normally, I feel quite bad about this. These days? Not an ounce of guilt. The only thing I'm not a big fan about is that I find no where to go during my final week of vacation. I'd like to go somewhere tropical and warm. Too bad I gots me no one to go with.

Maybe that should be my project for tomorrow. Find somewhere tropical and warm to go to, and someone to go with. :)

What women want

Frankly, I don't know what women want. But I know what I want. At least I think I do. One thing I know I want -- in a man, that is -- I want a southern man's gentility with a northern man's modern ideals. Basically, I want a man that wants to take care of me, but doesn't feel like he HAS to.

What brought this on, you ask? Well, allow me to explain. The young titan and I have been dating since before Thanksgiving. And for those of you keeping track, you know that is an exceptionally long time, given my track record. But, it appears we've run into a few things that are starting to bother me. First, he almost never pays for anything. Ever. So far, he's paid for the first date (kind of). I offered to pay for the one beverage that I had, but I didn't have cash and it'd have to go on my card. His response? Not "I got it." No, his response was "it's not worth it to ask her to split it for $7. I'll get this one, and you can get the next." Arrgh? But, I hate to be a golddigger, and he's pretty, so we press on.

Second, I asked him if he would help push my car out if it got stuck (as it notoriously does in the winter.) He said he would, and even commented that it would be a good workout. Well, when I called to ask for his assistance, he whined that he was in traffic and wouldn't be able to get to my apartment in time. Ok, seriously? Seriously?! Arrgh!

And third -- and most recent -- I asked him if he would lift my old television out of my cabinet (because I bought myself a bomb tv). He said he would, enthusiastically. I called on Saturday to ask him if he'd do it Sunday before my little shindig. He hemmed and hawed, and said that he wasn't sure if he could do it because he had a basketball game. So I said, can't you stop before the game? Given that he had 2 hours between when I got out of church and when he wanted to be at the court. And lifting my tv out would take all of what? 35 seconds. And yet, he couldn't do that. Moreover, I didn't hear hide nor tail from this dude all day on Sunday. Arrgh, again!

Someone may be getting voted off the island soon.

25 is a big number

I have a friend who sent around an email of a new year's suggestion. What she suggests is making a list of 25 accomplishments for the year and 25 goals for the year. It's the same premise of writing new year's resolutions, but far more involved and introspective. So far, I have one of each written. Accomplishment #1: not cursing anybody out at work, even though they clearly deserved it. Goal #1: raising my salary to it's former level either via a raise or via commission.

And that's all I have so far. 25 is such a big number! I mean, obviously, I'll have weight goals and weight accomplishments, because I constantly obsess over my size. But other than that??! No idea. Ok, that's not entirely true. I have an idea. But where am I supposed to come up with 25 goals and accomplishments? I'm not even sure which is more difficult. Probably accomplishments. I've heard that a lot of women have trouble tooting their own horn. I am not one of these women. i am quite capable of mentioning my fabulousness. But, I do have trouble being proud of things that should just be. For example. I make my bed everyday, and generally keep my house neat. It's always a goal of mine to do that; but it's really hard to consider that an accomplishment. I'm supposed to keep my house neat! That's why there's a gazillion cleaning products on the market. No credit for what you're s'posed to do anyway. At least, I don't think so. Hmmmm. Maybe my next goal should be giving myself credit even if the thing I'm doing seems minor. Does that count?!

Joys of the Season

Tis the season to be jolly. Fa la la la la laaaaaaa la la la la! I haven't been this cheerful since I first found out that I was laid off. Hooray unemployment! Ok, obviously being unemployed is not awesome. But being unemployed with the knowledge that you have a new job lined up is awesome! For the next five weeks, I will be sitting upside down on my couch loving the fact that I don't have to go to work. What will you be doing?!

One of the mafia members told me that when everything gets turned upside down, that's God opening doors and windows in your life to allow great things to happen. For me, it was getting laid off. It was all part of my grandmaster plan...or at least, the plan I was hoping that would happen. First I'd have to get laid off (check). And then I'd get a severance package (check). And then I'd find a new job (check). Which paid me way more than my former job (...). Ok, so 3 out of 4 not bad. Especially given the current economy.

I got a surprise when my life was flipped. That surprise was the young titan. He's turning out to be quite a pleasant addition to the island. Sure, there are things that I'm not so big on. Like that whole Super Hater situation. And the fact that he is more than a foot taller than me. Seriously, when someone is 15-17 inches taller than you, that's pure comedy. Sometimes I get a crick in my neck talking to him. But, neither of those are good reasons to kick him off the island. Or even send him in front of the panel.

Anyway, life is good, and I am filled with joy and sunshine and rainbows. Hooray now!

Swag Bag

I've been known to refer to various guys as pretty handbags. Most notably the Ninja and Snowflake. Basically, these are men who I could take anywhere, just like a pretty handbag. They looked good, go everywhere, and hold money. (I added the hold money part mostly for sheer entertainment value).

Anyway, when I first met the Young Titan, I thought he was a pretty handbag. When I met him, he was wearing sweatpants and a Titans jersey. He seemed a bit dim, and I wasn't sure we had anything in common. But, quite honestly, I didn't care. He was fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. I assumed he'd be nice to have around temporarily, but it wouldn't likely lead anywhere.

Well, he's proven to be a handbag filled with goodies. (Although money isn't necessarily one of the goodies). He has proven to be a meathead, but the kind of meathead that reads about it first. And he is constantly surprising me with things he knows. And he's been quite perceptive about various things too. I find myself talking to him for super long periods of time. All that and he is fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

Given the total package-ness of Mr. Young Titan, I find myself worried for myself. I'm guessing that he is going to get away with all kinds of things, just because of everything he brings to the table. He told me the other day that he couldn't believe my Ex broke it off. Quite frankly, I can't figure out why anyone would ever break up with him either. Note to self, ask him what that woman said she was thinking. Hmm, could the Young Titan be the antidote to the Engineer?

Super Hater

As a general rule, I don't deal with haters in my dating life. Which is why I was so blindsided by the Super Hater a couple weeks ago. Here's what happened:

The Young Titan and I met up to watch some football at a local bar. He arrived about an hour earlier than I did, because I was a domestic-errand machine. I was supposed to get there by 2nd quarter, which I did. When I got there, he told me that he saw a girl from the gym, and she was going to stop over and say hi. So, I'm totally cool with this, and plus, he said she was really fit -- so I wanted to see how fit and possibly ask her how she did it. (I never got around to asking).

Anyway, when she stopped by, she did have a nice body, but nothing to be intimidated about. And she had a short Rihanna haircut. For the most part, I paid her no mind. I was busy watching my boys start strong (and ultimately lose, but that's par for the course this season). She stayed and talked for a while. I can say that I wasn't really listening. She left for a minute, and then came back. When she came back, she sat down and picked up his phone. He has the iPhone, so totally normal. In exchange, he picked up her phone. Which is exactly what happened when I picked up his phone. She went ahead and started looking through his photos. And kept showing me pictures of his ex. Gee thanks. When she got up again, he had gone to the bar or washroom or something. She says to me "he thinks he's slick, putting his number in my phone. He doesn't know I've been doing that since I was 15." So I'm like, jigga what? Excuse me, we're not exclusive at all, but can you not get your mack on in front of me?

So, she leaves again. And comes back. I notice that everytime she comes around, he stops being all over me. Which, if she hadn't said what she said, I would've thought was nice because no one wants to feel like a third wheel. But she did say it, so I started to think that he was being sketchy.

Later on, after one of her leave and come back cycles, they begin arguing about the Young Titan's height. She doesn't believe that he's actually 6'5". She tells him to stand up and close his eyes, which he does. She proceeds to pretend to kiss his nipples. I am stunned.

But wait, there's more. She, once again, leaves and comes back. The Titan and I make plans to meet up in about 45 minutes. When she gets back, we're putting on our coats. She turns to him and asks "are you dropping her off?" I'm like what? Then I see her lean in and say something and pull on his sweatpants. Then she turned to me and says "We're watching t.v. later, and I told him it's not a hookup so he doesn't have to change clothes."

At this point, I'm figuring out that she's a Super Hater, and he is not sketchy. At least, I don't think he is. As we leave the bar, he tells me that he has no idea what she says. I repeat what she says to me, and a look of confusion clouds his face. He says, "I have plans with you! And if you didn't want to do anything, then I'm going home to play Madden." Super Hater strikes again!

Slight sketchiness did occur later in the night. We were supposed to meet up about 30 minutes later, but I don't hear from him for about 90 minutes. He says he couldn't find his phone. Which I find odd. But, given that he has a track record of reliability, I let it go. And agree to meet up with him, if for no other reason than to block the Super Hater.

I kind of hope that I run into her again. So I can totally snub her. How awesome would that be?!

Update

I admit it, I've fallen off the blogosphere. But here I am to officially catch you up. A lot has gone down, which is why I've totally failed to write about it. So, here goes:

First, I got laid off, we found out on November 14. I must say, it was not an awesome process. Half of our office was laid off that day; and they did it one by one. It was brutal. I was second to last. It was pretty terrible and depressing. Anyway, my last day is December 19. Honestly? We all know how I felt about this job. And we all knew that the best case scenario would be for me to get laid off and/or fired, and then get a severance package, and look for a job while they pay me. So, hooray parts a and b of the grandmaster plan going through.

Second, I interviewed with a great firm twice prior to the layoff. And then they went out of the country without giving me a job. And so I was a teensy bit panicked, but not really. First, as we all know, I stand by faith. I'm not gonna lie, it got uber hard sometimes. Second, the interviews that I had went very well. So, when they got back from Romania, they wanted to see me for a third time, but it took them FOREVER to schedule that time. I finally had that third interview, and they offered me a job. Hooray! I haven't accepted yet, because I want to make a counteroffer -- but even if they reject my counteroffer, I think we all know that I'll be taking what they've offered. I mean really? It's more of what I want to do, it's a great place, and I like the people. So let's not be silly.

Third, there's a new guy on the island. Remember the young titan? I wasn't sure he'd last very long, but he's hanging around the island. At first, I thought he was totally lying about his background (former player for a SEC school, former player in an international league, etc.). Although none of that has been verified, he hasn't stumbled as though lying. So although I have no proof, I don't have any proof that he's lying either. He has officially earned the benefit of the doubt. Then i thought maybe he wasn't the crispest dollar in the billfold. I was wrong about that too. I think the reason I thought he was a step behind was because I forget how quickly I change subjects on a person. It can be disconcerting if you don't know me very well. Now that it's been a few weeks, I think he's getting used to my synaptic misfires. Oh, and did I mention he is possibly the most gorgeous man I've ever dated?

Fourth, the Engineer is making another trip to the great Midwest. His company needs him to go to Cincinnati, and so he's going to have a layover here in the Chi. Good times. That should happen next week. Much to the chagrin of my mother, who wanted him to be around on NYE. Well, in his defense, he's choosing to come when someone else is buying the ticket. I can't say that I blame him for that.

Oh, and I almost forgot. I tried out for another dance team a couple weeks ago. Once again, I made it to finals. Once again, the veterans thought I worked it. Once again, I couldn't take it all the way. This time, I got the opportunity to ask why. Do you know what the answer was? I wasn't cheerleaderish enough. Seriously? Not cheerleaderish enough? What does that even mean? Oh well. It was fun for that week. I was not at all bummed about it, I gotta say. It was going to be a colossal pain in the neck for me to get to practice twice a week. They practiced and performed in a suburb about 45 min away. Twice a week for practice plus a game? Goo, that'd be a whole lot of time in my car for 4 minutes of glory.

Sanity

As you know, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is defined as insanity. But what is it when you do the same thing over and over again, fully expecting the same unpleasant result? My guess? The definition is stupidity.

I'm speaking, of course, of my ridiculously repetitive relationship with the engineer. (Alliteration not intended, but impressive nonetheless). Here's the thing. Our relationship is more or less the exact same way that it was around this time 20 months ago. When we talk, it's easily for 45 minutes or more. And it's easy conversation. We make each other laugh, we impress each other with our intelligence, blah blah blah. There's just one minor change; this time, we acknowledge that we're attracted to each other in a romantic way. But, despite that minor change, I fully expect that a few months from now, he is going to meet a girl. And then he is going to date her, sweep her off her feet, and she will demand (albeit fairly) that he choose between me and her. And I fully expect him to choose her. Again. And while this time, he might not be so harsh about it, there isn't a doubt in my mind that he'll choose her. And rightly so. She'll probably sleep with him. Which, of course, I wouldn't do even if there wasn't 3/4ths of the country between us. And, equally as importantly, she'll live in the same city.

So, like I said. I think the definition might be stupidity. Ridiculousness. Fill in the blank, go ahead, I'll wait.

In other news, I met a pretty handbag the other day. Click here for an articulate definition of a handbag. Hilariously, I wasn't entirely certain of his name. Or that he'd actually call. But he did. And I found out his name. For now, we'll call him the Young Titan. More on him later -- i.e. when I figure out if he actually stays on the island long enough to warrant a blog posting.

Not that there's anything wrong with that

Ok, there's a chick at the gym who most likely thinks I'm gay. Which is fine, except for the fact that I'm not actually a lesbian. The thing is, she has the exact physique that I want. She's approximately my height, and has the tiny and fit compact body that I want. Her chest is way bigger, but I've never been a I-wish-I-had-a-bigger-chest kind of girl. Honestly, I kind of enjoy being a member of the itty bitty committee. I enjoy going without *ahem* support when I'm just not in the mood.

Anyhoo, back to the girl who probably thinks I'm lusting after her. The thing is, I'm really not. (And if I was, I wouldn't want her knowing it because I'm sure she knows she's cute and I really am not the type to feed an ego.) But I just want to put her in the interrogation room and depose her on her fitness and eating habits. I mean seriously! How did she get that body?! The exercises I see her doing don't really seem to be that hard. Maybe she just works out for waaaay longer than I do. Hmmm. Maybe she's got way more money than I do and can therefore afford a permanent trainer. Whatever she's doing, can you let a sistah know?!

Head of State (HNIC)

So, it is my tradition to watch either The American President or Head of State or both prior to the election. This year I didn't, so I'm watching Head of State now. Quite honestly, it's still hilarious. But, it is stunning to me that this movie was supposed to take place in 2004, and Mays Gilliam (Chris Rock) won the election. At that time, it was a great satire on the state of America. I especially loved the absurdity of the movie's premise. Really?! A relatively unknown, black man as president, beating out a war hero? PAH!

And now I stand, four years later, in complete awe of Mr. Fantastic, aka Barack Obama. I echo a comment I heard from a professor on The Today Show. I underestimated white people in America. Despite the fact that I truly believed that the Democrats could've run a hamster and still should've won, I was not totally convinced that the yuppies of America would actually vote for a African American. I wasn't really concerned about the racist, KKK members of the country. Honestly? They weren't likely to vote for Democrats anyway. But, I was convinced that there were white people everywhere, who said they were Obama supporters, but only because it was what a good yuppie liberal should say. Then, I figured when they got into the booth, curtain around them, they would find themselves unable to actually pull the lever for a black man. Well white people, y'all proved me wrong. And might I say, good work.

No, I'm not convinced that race in America is officially a nonissue. But, I am in awe that it is less of an issue than I thought. I love it. I've found myself high on life since Monday. I think the euphoria may last forever. God bless America!

So, we've got our plane tickets for DC on January 19-23. Are you in to watch history continue?

Year of the Gentleman

Ne-Yo has a new album out, titled Year of the Gentlemen. He is getting quite a bit of buzz for several of the songs on this album. Part of the publicity found its way into my favorite commuter newspaper by way of an interview with Ne-Yo. The interview was all about Ne-Yo's classic Rat-Pack-esq sense of style. In his (humble) opinion, he believes a mans suit should create the male hourglass. What most people call the "V" shape.

I gotta say, I completely agree with Ne-Yo and I appreciate his sense of style. For those who don't really follow R&B, his sense of style is reminiscent of Frank Sinatra. Fedora, cocked to the side, a nice suit, tie, and wingtips. Insert sigh here. I wish more men dressed like Ne-Yo.

Obviously, I don't expect men to wear a suit all the time. I just love a man that's put together well. There's nothing like a man in a nice pair of jeans, fashion tennis shoes, and a well fitting tshirt. Insert another sigh here. Where are the men that dress like that??

For the record, the hot restaurant manager had a nice flair. And, by the way, he emailed me twice(!) asking for the address of the party. I'm wondering if he is perhaps a little frantic about it. But he said he's bringing friends. We just won't tell him that it's my friends house. For all he knows, it's a man's house. :)

Wow

So, a fellow mafia member and I followed up church with brunch. We went to a neat little place in the south loop. (A neat little neighborhood second only to my own). Normally, this wouldn't be news. Ok, given my need to share ridiculous details about my life, it probably is news. Anyway, the reason why I'm mentioning it is because we saw a most gorgeous man.

He was a caramelly colored brotha, with light eyes, a low cut fade, and most importantly, has the style of Fonzworth Bentley. The outfit started with a nice pair of wool (I think) flat front trousers, a french blue button down shirt, a reddish patterned tie, and a heather gray sweater. The chocolate brown blazer was lovely also -- although that ended up coming off.

As it turns out, he worked at the cute little resto. He was clearly a manager, but, I'm not entirely certain what that means at this restaurant. Clearly, being a manager at Taco Bell is different than being a manager at a 5 star restaurant. He could be anywhere to a part-timer to a huge deal.

None of that is really important at the moment though. At this point, I just consider him yummy eye candy. Feeling bold, I called him over to tell him he looked fantastic. (That was before we finished eating.) And he told us that he was the new manager, blah blah blah. His teeth were so pretty, and his eyes so fantastic that I really wasn't listening. Anyway, after we finished eating, I called him over again to slip him my cell phone number. I did it with the pretext of inviting him to our Halloween party. In order to not endure the pain of the fact that he has a girlfriend, I told him to bring his guy friends and girl friends. (Secretly hoping that he had a lot of guy friends that look like him, and no girl friends). We'll see what happens...stay tuned.

Synchronicity

In one of the many many chick lits that I've read, there was a term used for what I'm having these days. "Synchronicity." Basically, it's when everything seems to be going your way. "Coming up Milhouse" as was said on the Simpsons. (If you caught that reference then you, like me, watch reruns way too often.)

At any rate, my life seems to be going wonderfully right now. Yesterday, I was rushing home to watch the final debate, and I managed to catch a bus just as I was coming out of the eL. I only missed 40 minutes. Hooray!

Today, I had an interview with the principle of a firm. She got my resume through about 4 degrees of separation. She told me that they weren't even hiring. They have the space, she said, but they really weren't seriously looking -- but just considering it. Then, she said, that when she gets the resume and meets someone wonderful, she doesn't want to miss out on the opportunity. (Insert gigantic smile here). Hooray!

Then, I started a dance class at my gym this evening. It was a great class, and I love the teaching style. The jury is still out on whether or not I like the choreography. But the teacher flat out said that she doesn't do turns. Yes! My horribly embarrassing lack of ability to spin will not be revealed. She told us that if she notices someone who is really good, then that person will be trying out for her dance team. And she will make that person audition different things. And then after class, I told her (conversationally while waiting for my receipt) that I was using this class to decide whether or not I was retiring my dance shoes. She turned to the girl that was making the class list and said 'oh she's not retiring.' And then turned to me and said, 'you're totally trying out for my dance team.' Hooray!

So, I'm enjoying the current string of blessings. I can definitely hear my mother and my auntie saying "We told you so...God's time, not your own time." But for the record, I never said patience was my virtue. I'm an impatient saint, ok? We all have our flaws, right?

A small taste

I've been given a small taste of the good life. Last week I purchased a fabulous coat from the Michael Kors Outlet. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it! Seriously, the coat itself is fabulous. But more importantly, it looks fabulous on me! Arrogance aside, I really like how it feels on. And, I like how I feel in it.

Something about the "high-end" fashions have changed my opinion. I used to think that the name-brand fashions were mostly just paying for labels. I still feel that way, but I'm changing. There's something to be said for wearing a $300 coat....of course, there's a lot more to be said when you're wearing a $300 coat that you totally stole from the outlet store for no where near that price.

Ultimately, maybe it isn't that I am changing my mind about brands. I think I've actually always liked them. But what I truly like are clothes that fit fabulously, make me feel fabulous, AND I got at an awesome deal on. Phew! And I was worried that I'd become a brand whore. ;)

Haus Frau

Lately, for the last two weeks really, I've been excessively tired. Before, it was a part of the general insomnia I was suffering from. Some of that was also due to the constant muscle pain in my shoulder. Now, I'm finding myself completely without motivation. I haven't been to the gym in about 2 weeks. (Actually, I'm not even sure of that. I can't remember for sure when the last time was. I know it was a Saturday -- I just don't remember which).

Anyway, it's strange. My usual motivational cues aren't working. As we all know, my body image is a twee bit off kilter. So, I'm usually the first one to start watching what I eat and hitting the gym immediately after losing some tone. But these days? I care, but I can't seem to find the motivation to do anything about it.

So, another motivation for me was trying out to be a pro-cheerleader again. As you may recall, last year that was enough to get me to the gym regularly, hire a personal trainer, etc. This time? Nope. If I don't make the team...d'ah well.

Of course, there was the possibility of meeting my future husband and/or going out on the weekends. But, as the temperature declines, the odds of me going out are also declining. Furthermore, my aforementioned total lack of motivation really doesn't lend itself to going out. I just don't have the energy for it.

I guess for now, just call me the haus frau. Because I really don't care to do much else.

Accidental Date

Yeah, ok. I know I say this all the time; but I found myself on a date again. And by found, I mean it was unintentional. Basically, what happened is this: There's this dude that used to work at Medleh a couple floors down in my office building. As it turns out, he has the same name as the Danka guy. I discovered this a couple weeks ago when I saw him on the street near the building. Anyway, he asked for my business card so we could keep in touch. I honestly didn't think much of it. I mean, he works with a lot of law firms, sooooo I figured it was plain old networking.

Anyway, he emailed me last week, and said do you want to do lunch? I said yes, thinking it was the Danka guy. And then I realized it was the Medleh guy. But whatever. We get to the resto, and I had already ordered online. And then he paid. Wait, what? He paid? Oh crap. This is a date isn't it? Bastidos! And that, my friends, is how one finds oneself on an accidental date. Neat huh?

In case you were wondering, I am not that into him. He's officially not my type. He'd make an excellent platonic friend. But as far as romanticism goes, I will pass. Blech!

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!

Get me to the ball on time.

The Green Tie Ball is an event held every year in Chicago. It's a fundraiser to raise money for the Gateway Green project. That's the group in charge of finding people to clean up the highways.

Anyway, I went this year. I've been pretty pumped up about it for a while, because it gave me an awesome excuse to wear the fabulous brown silk dress I found a few years ago. Unfortunately for me, I forgot to bring it back from Milwaukee over Labor Day. I considered having my mom mail it, but I decided I may as well go and get it on Saturday so I could have my hair done fabulously. I picked up a couple riders along the way, namely SiQ and another friend who wanted to hitch a ride. All of this seemed perfectly benign.

Well, that was before the heavens opened up. The rain began on Friday afternoon. And continued through Sunday. Saturday morning began normally enough. My friend met me at my place around 10:15 a.m. We hop onto the freeway, and promptly run into traffic at the normal spot. It's moving at a snail's pace, but it ALWAYS moves at a snails pace. Or so I thought. And then I realized that this snail was nearly dead...and we'd moved at a pace of roughly 6 miles an hour. We were literally in the car about 90 minutes and had barely gotten out of the city. And then we were forced off the freeway due to closure. You read that right. The freeway was CLOSED.

Well, this is the information age. So I call SiQ and ask her to re-route us via the internet. (Especially important since there were no detour signs.) But, just as she was finding a route (of sorts), the next freeway entrance was open. So we get on the freeway, thinking we can make up time. Boy were we wrong. We were forced off the freeway AGAIN. We spent the next 2 hours driving through various suburbs searching for a way to the highway.

As a lucky break, I happened to take a road that ran through the forest preserve. And it happened to run into a street I recognized; which led me to the highway. Meanwhile, it's still raining. I finally get to the SiQ's house, pick her up. Get to the WI state border, no rain and no traffic. GAH. So, I finally get to my destination - 5 HOURS AFTER LEAVING MY APARTMENT.

After all of that, I asked my dad to drop off the dress at the beauty shop. I was seriously freaking out. But, the good news was, the freeway was re-opened. I got back to my apartment within 2 hours of leaving.

The ball was great. The dress fit perfectly (it had better -- after 7 hours of travel I was going to make it fit). I even managed to get us into VIP -- basically, I found 2 pins and scammed 2 other ones from some guy - volunteers. :) Just like last time though, another girl was in my dress in a different color. Unlike last time, she was way skinnier than me. :\

Repeat

Ahhhhhhhhh! That's the sound of the mental screaming I was doing at the eL station today. Picture, a transfer point on the eL. September 2008. Approximately 455 p.m. There I am, looking in my fabulous Kate Spade bag for my transit card. I look up, to open the glass door. And there...in the reflection...the old guy from the eL a few weeks ago. (Insert expletive here).

So, then I thought I was a goner, but he had to get a transit card from the machine. So, I thought I'd escaped him, until I remembered that his whole opportunity for hitting on me in the first place arose from the fact that we rode the same line. But then, I thought I was saved because as I reached the top of the steps, there was my train arriving. And given that he was way behind me buying a card, I thought it officially ok to breathe a sigh of relief. Not! Not only did he make it onto the train, he ended up on the same blasted car.

Needless to say, it was an incredibly uncomfortable ride since I had to face one direction the entire time. But, I did manage to avoid eye contact (and giving him a full view of my face). So, he didn't get the chance to see or talk to me. (Insert phew! here).

You're Out.

Ok, as I've mentioned, I've become a total national convention junkie. Well, as much as I can with basic t.v. Anyway, I've established 5 reasons why the Gentlelady from Alaska cannot become VP:

1. Track
2. Bristol
3. Willow
4. Piper
5. Trig.

These are her children's names. Really? REALLY? Who in the devil names their children after pharmaceutical companies? And who names their son Track or Trig? Seriously!? This clearly shows a complete and utter lack of common sense, if not a total lack of judgment.

So, in the words of Heidi Klum...You're Out.

Political Par-tay

I'd originally intended on blogging on the history recently made by one Mr. Barack Obama. (Can you think of anyone more fantastic right now? Because I can't). But then, I found myself distracted by some high quality shenanigans going on in the Republican party, that I am moved to comment on. Here's that comment: PAH HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ok, so what we're saying is, John McCain chose a woman who was (a) a runner-up in the Miss Alaska pageant in the late 80s, (b) younger than Mr. Obama, (c) has only been governor for 20 months, and (d) has a pregnant 17 year old daughter.

PAH HAHAHAHA. This, my friends, is pure comedy. You have a right-wing hardcore card carrying NRA type, who is pro-life, anti-abortion, and pro-abstinence-only education. And this, is who the distinguished senator from AZ chooses to run with him? Just because she's a woman with youthful energy? This is his answer to the unstoppable, half-man half-amazing Mr. Obama?

Tell me, this is not hilarious. That's right, you can't.
What's next Mr. McCain? Cody Diablo as Secretary of Health and Human Services? Perhaps Superhead (the Video Vixen) as Head of FEMA?

Oooh, That's Deep

So today, at the weekly Cashmere Mafia meeting, we were counseling a member on how she should not not NOT feel bad about this guy who was a total prick. We were discussing the two modes of thinking. Some of us were on her side, namely that you feel that you have a duty to tell these dues why, exactly, they are so blinkin' bogus. The other faction believes once you screw up, we check out and you're done.

Personally, I fall into the former category. I feel it is my duty, and my privilege, to tell a guy why you are so blinkin' bogus. And that got me to thinking. Maybe that's the real reason why the engineer got an invitation to Chicago...and made it back on the island, for that matter. I attempted to be a member of the latter category. He screwed up HUGELY. But I never took the chance to tell him how badly he screwed up. Instead, he screwed up, I walked away. But, I obsessed for 18 months about how much he sucked...and how dare he treat me that way. Now, I'm given the chance to tell him, and I find myself dragging my feet. I've fallen back into "the way we were." This, is bad. The desire to tell someone about themselves is not a good reason to allow them back on the island.

But, after extending the invitation, can you really shut it down? And, if my feelings were originally that strong, should I turn my back on it? Ooooh, that is sooo deep.

Back to Olympus

At the risk of sounding like a terrorist, are the Olympics still on?!!? Seriously!! I can't believe how long the Olympics have been interrupting regular programming. I feel like it's been on for months and months and months. Even when I was little, the only sports I really cared about were gymnastics and the sprinting events of track & field. Now that I have an obscenely early bedtime, I can't even watch those events since they're almost always shown live. So, I respectfully request that in 2012, they put the Olympics on one of those nifty digital stations, and I'll go ahead and tune in when I feel like it. I know you can do it!

Avoidance is not Closure

So, I bet you're all wondering how the weekend with the Engineer was. Well, it was great! Lots of fun doing tons of stuff. I started it off with a bang, by taking him to the Signature Lounge on the 96th Floor of the John Hancock. The view up there is awesome, by the way. Then, the next 3 days were as filled with as much as I could find to do, with the exception of Monday, when I was put on house arrest by the Engineer since I was deathly sick with the Plague.

Anyway, the sad part about the weekend is that I failed to actually address the elephants in the room. Namely, how super bogus he was a year and a half ago (longer now). And second, what this trip will lead to for the future. Contrary to popular belief, I have a rational reason for not really pushing the conversation. Shortly after his arrival, I realized that I could either treat this weekend like a fun summer fling; or, I could address all of the aforementioned issues and add some unnecessary tension to the weekend. I chose to go with option a. Reason being, he just bought a condo out west. I have less than zero intentions of moving out there. And by virtue of purchasing a condo, he has essentially made the statement that he's not moving here. So, in the end, why bother pressing the issue?

Now, I have friends (SiQ, 2DP) who are opposed to the Engineer generally. And friends who, after grudgingly accepting the visit, will be opposed to the fact that I pressed no issues (SiQ, Kaia). Sooo, what we've learned is, I am completely defiant in the face of the island cabinet.

At any rate, that's all I got for ya, without giving you a detailed schedule. And that would not make for such an interesting blog. Anyway, I thought that the results would be far more interesting. All in all, a great summer fling weekend.

A Quickie Post

My psychic powers can sometimes be very gratifying. And sometimes quite upsetting. Today, I think they fall into the upsetting category. In my last post, I ended it with the dire premonition that there was the possibility that I would not hear back from my Blair Underwood. Funny, I did hear back from him, but it was only via text, and it was on Friday. "Hey pretty lady. How's your day going?" Or some such thing. Which would be totally sweet and adorable had it not been the only non-responsive communication. In other words, he responded to my email about the storm (we just had a giant one here on Tues), but didn't bother to call otherwise. Frankly, I'm incredibly confused. I mean, after a 7 hour date, don't you call? Or, ask for another date? Am I being blown off? And if so, can I get an explanation?

Grant it, after 1 date, I don't necessarily deserve an explanation. But it'd be nice to have one. Of course, part of me assumes this is the universe's way of getting back at me for the way I abruptly ended it with J.R. (the short old guy). But, on the other hand, at least I gave him an explanation.

In other news, while I'd totally prefer to go out with him again (especially given the total amnesia he gave me with regard to the Engineer), I can't say that I'm entirely that pressed. Yes, I would totally heart going out with him again. Yes, he is uber hot. No, I'm not planning to cry over it. In fact, I was on the eL today, calculating how much time I should let pass before deleting his number, when I realized I really could just delete it now. The unfortunate part is that if he were to call or text again, I'd likely not have a clue who he was, because unlike Snowflake, I didn't memorize his number by default.

D'ah well. As someone told me, it might be just as well. With the imminent arrival of the Engineer, perhaps now is not the best time to become totally smitten with Blair Underwood. On the other hand, Blair Underwood's masterful first date lifted my haze with regards to the Engineer's shenanigans, and helped me cool my original nonsense. This trip, though allegedly filled with potential, has been relegated to summer fling. I mean really? Can I truly get smitten with a guy who a.) cannot use a post office and b.) ticked me off to the point of speechlessness? I should send Blair Underwood a thank-you text for that. Too bad I refuse to set a precedent of always contacting him first.

My Blair Underwood

Did you ever notice that sexy Blair Underwood is often playing a character that seems so great on paper, but in the end the girl picks a significantly less awesome guy? Well, I'm wondering if perhaps I met my own personal Blair Underwood.

As you all know, I went out on a date on Saturday. It was a fantastic date. We went to see Too White Crew and then we went to eat Indian food at a fantastic little restaurant near my apartment. After dinner, which was filled with tons of lively conversation, he walked me back to my apartment. My original intent was to take my food out of our shared to-go bag, and then see him on his way. Well, we ended up sitting on my incredibly comfy couch, and engaging in more lively discussion. Then, we eventually fell into comfortable, cuddly quiet. And then, it was 7 hours after our date started. So, I drove him home (with regrets).

But now, as I look back, I'm not as excited as I should be. Most likely it's because he told me that he just got out of a 4 year relationship. Ahem, 2 months ago! Gah! I'm pretty sure I've been relegated to the rebound of the closest thing to perfect guy. Bummer. We'll see how it goes though, because I'm all over the 2nd date. That is, if he ever bothers to ask. :\

Maneater

I've decided go bring out the player card for the weekend. As usual, it happened unintentionally. But I'm in a go-with-the-flow kinda mood, so I figured what the heck.

Recently, there was a surprise re-emergence of Snowflake. Remember him? He left the island in favor of his ex-girlfriend's island. Evidently, the grass wasn't greener on the new island. (That's a hilarious statement because he actually said that.) Anyway, here's how it went down. On Monday, I got a text from Snowflake saying that he was in my 'hood and wanted to see what was shakin'. So I told him nada mucho other than the visit by a former rebound guy. (Didn't omit that, it just wasn't an exciting story.) So, while waiting for the rebound and his gf to arrive, Snowflake invited himself over to my place. I invited him out, but he politely declined. (He said he declined because he didn't want to have the rebound sizing me up. I suspect it was actually because he didn't want to look like he was on a date in spite of his gf; you know, the one that lives in Indy?)

Anyway, on his way out the door, he said that if I have any other concerts I need a backup for, he was down. As it turns out, I did have a concert at my fave bar coming up. (It's so awesome to have connections.) So, we're going out on Friday. Yes, that's the day before the date with the frat. Niiiiiiiiiiiice.

AND, there's my newly acquired skill of getting me and my girls into various clubs and bars without a cover. At this point, I'm even starting to impress myself. I guess it's a gift. :)

3 Votes against

That's what I hate about the SiQ. She never expresses her opinion. NOT. Ok, so the SiQ has voiced her vote and veto for the upcoming visit from a certain engineer. Sad to say, she is not alone. The Ex has voted against, and 2dp has voted against. Basically, everyone who has been my friend for the longest has voted against. What does this tell us?

Well, it tells us that I am capable of going against the peanut gallery. It also tells us that the peanut gallery often gives votes without being asked. And it tells us that I'm going to have a rather interesting weekend. Let's just hope it doesn't end in I told you so's.

In other news, there is a potential challenger on the island. He was invited onto the island last Saturday at a frat barbecue. He will henceforth be known as "Frat." At any rate, he has so far proven to be smart (book and street), handsome (goes without saying), and a total smart aleck. Also, he appears to be nice and also funny. I'll keep you posted.

Claiming the victory

I would like to make an announcement. I have found a job that I think will be perfect for me with a corporation that I think I would enjoy looking for. A wonderful lady that I met a couple months ago reviewed my resume for me, to help make myself more marketable. I have made all kinds of calls to get an "in". And now, I've applied. All I need now, is the job. Let's just go ahead and add that to the prayer circle, shall we? Thanks.

In other news, I have a teeny-tiny-itsy-bitsy announcement to make. A certain engineer may or may not be coming to visit. And he may or may not be arriving in 3 weeks. And that may or may not have been against the veto of one SiQ. But, in spite of the veto, I'm pretty pumped up about it.
Good times!

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!