OK, OK! I know it's been a while since I've written. I've had writers block, been really swamped with homework and, quite honestly, have been feeling like I'm sharing a little too much of my twisted brain.
Sometimes I feel naked and while that's great in the shower, during sexy time or at 2 a.m. Saturday on my deck, it's not a great feeling when you're trying to write. Now that I've told you my favorite times to be naked, it's time to share. Pull up a chair, won't you?
So we all know that I've been trying my hand at online dating for quite some time and that I haven't had much luck. Well, at the beginning of September I met a guy and I actually dug him. I could stand being around him for more than 10 minutes; I let him into my personal space on our first date (no, not my pants, sicko), and I wasn't annoyed by him. This was a big deal. Just ask my girlfriends who think I'm way too analytical and picky. :)
Well, what goes up, must come down, right? We finally hit the 30 day mark which, in my opinion, is "do or die" time. You either decide you want to date the person exclusively or you decide to move on. Now, I'll segue to what I will forever refer to as "the olive incident."
We decided we were going to chill out at my place and watch a couple of movies. One that he wanted me to see and one that I wanted him to see. I bought some beer (his favorite beer, mind you), rented the movies and I even bought him his favorite flavored fucking cupcake! (Deep breath. Move on.)
We discussed pizza and he told me that he didn't like olives. I ordered the pizza, but I was a little buzzed and mentally drained from the day and forgot to tell them to take the olives off the pizza. He reminded me of that fact when I got off the phone, so I apologized and told him we could just pick them off. Sounds reasonable to me, right? I LIKE OLIVES! (Deap breath. Move on.)
So when we got the pizza, I MANUALLY picked every fucking olive off of his three pieces of pizza. He was quiet while we ate except the one time he decided to break the silence and tell me I was bossy (What? You just figured that out??) and then to tell me that if it was me and I didn't like olives, he would have called them back and told them to take the olives off, but since I didn't do that, I was basically telling him to suck it up and deal with it. Hmmmm ....
As you can all tell, the evening did NOT end as I'd originally planned. At that point he told me he didn't feel the "spark" with me that he should and he still wanted to meet other women. I told him to leave, he left, end of story.
I was pretty hurt and pissed about it for a few days, but it's time to move on. I'm pretty sure he's not sitting around dwelling, so I refuse to let him take up space in my head and my heart without paying rent! Now I sound like Oprah. "YOU get olives and YOU get olives and YOU get olives!!! EVERYBODY GETS OLIVES!!!" (Only true Oprah fans will get that. Sorry...).
Regardless of the number of bad first dates or relationship sparks that fizzle, I still hold onto hope that there's someone out there who can handle all of my Spiffiness and who will meet at least 3 of my 4 major needs. :)
NEXT!
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
I remember...
Ten years ago I was 31 years old, working as an insurance agent for AAA. I was sitting in my office early the morning of September 11th, trying to talk myself into making it through another day at a job that I hated. I was in a shitty mood and didn't feel like talking to anyone.
Someone walked by my office and told me to come into the kitchen to watch what was happening on TV, and that's about all that I remember. Except that we all got to go home early (yippee).
Back in those days, I was often hoggishly detached from anything that didn't affect me directly. If it didn't happen to "me," then I chose not to "feel" it. Newsflash: Spiffy was selfish.
I remember watching the plane hit the tower and eventually the towers fall. It all seemed so surreal to me; like it wasn't really happening. I mean, how could something that looked like a blockbuster hit starring Bruce Willis and Nicholas Cage really be happening, for REAL??
A couple of weeks after 9/11, I was listening to the morning show of my then favorite radio station, e105. Joe from "The Joe Show" was talking about how he was a big hair-band freak back in the 80's which immediately connected with me. I, too, was an 80's hair-band fanatic who sported a killer red coif that I kept in prime shape with a hair dryer and Aqua Net.
He mentioned they were holding a radio contest and winners would get a round-trip, all expenses paid trip to New York City. All I had to do was tell him why I was the biggest 80's hair-band fanatic and I'd win ... so I did ... and I WON!
I took my friend Kristen with me on a trip that forever changed my life. Not only because of the experience of seeing Ground Zero only a month after the attack, but because of the people that I met on that trip who I still hold dear to my heart. There are so many great people who are now in my life who wouldn't have been in my life had the 9-11 attacks not happened. I guess that's my silver lining in the dark cloud.
Tragic events affect everyone, whether or not they are in touch enough with their emotions to admit it. I tried not to "feel" much back then, so it took a radio station trip to New York City for the reality to really sink in.
Standing in front of Saint Patrick's Cathedral in Manhattan, watching the funeral procession for one of the fallen firefighters, Patty Brown, was a moment I will never forget. You could hear a pin drop as the firefighters marched down the road, led by bag pipes. The entire city was silent in tribute. It was awesome and sad and beautiful all at the same time.
Ten years later, I sat and cried this morning as I listened to Paul Simon sing Sounds of Silence. I relived the morning of 9-11-01 while watching a feature on NatGeo this evening. I chose to feel the pain of others while I watched.
I really tried to imagine the pain of talking to a loved one on the phone and knowing that it was likely the last time you'd ever hear their voice. I imagined the terror those poor people felt as they ran through the streets of Manhattan in a futile attempt to avoid the rolling cloud of debris. I imagined the despair someone must have felt to have to choose between burning to death or jumping out of a building.
Needless to say, my heart aches tonight.
Someone walked by my office and told me to come into the kitchen to watch what was happening on TV, and that's about all that I remember. Except that we all got to go home early (yippee).
Back in those days, I was often hoggishly detached from anything that didn't affect me directly. If it didn't happen to "me," then I chose not to "feel" it. Newsflash: Spiffy was selfish.
I remember watching the plane hit the tower and eventually the towers fall. It all seemed so surreal to me; like it wasn't really happening. I mean, how could something that looked like a blockbuster hit starring Bruce Willis and Nicholas Cage really be happening, for REAL??
A couple of weeks after 9/11, I was listening to the morning show of my then favorite radio station, e105. Joe from "The Joe Show" was talking about how he was a big hair-band freak back in the 80's which immediately connected with me. I, too, was an 80's hair-band fanatic who sported a killer red coif that I kept in prime shape with a hair dryer and Aqua Net.
He mentioned they were holding a radio contest and winners would get a round-trip, all expenses paid trip to New York City. All I had to do was tell him why I was the biggest 80's hair-band fanatic and I'd win ... so I did ... and I WON!
I took my friend Kristen with me on a trip that forever changed my life. Not only because of the experience of seeing Ground Zero only a month after the attack, but because of the people that I met on that trip who I still hold dear to my heart. There are so many great people who are now in my life who wouldn't have been in my life had the 9-11 attacks not happened. I guess that's my silver lining in the dark cloud.
Tragic events affect everyone, whether or not they are in touch enough with their emotions to admit it. I tried not to "feel" much back then, so it took a radio station trip to New York City for the reality to really sink in.
Standing in front of Saint Patrick's Cathedral in Manhattan, watching the funeral procession for one of the fallen firefighters, Patty Brown, was a moment I will never forget. You could hear a pin drop as the firefighters marched down the road, led by bag pipes. The entire city was silent in tribute. It was awesome and sad and beautiful all at the same time.
Ten years later, I sat and cried this morning as I listened to Paul Simon sing Sounds of Silence. I relived the morning of 9-11-01 while watching a feature on NatGeo this evening. I chose to feel the pain of others while I watched.
I really tried to imagine the pain of talking to a loved one on the phone and knowing that it was likely the last time you'd ever hear their voice. I imagined the terror those poor people felt as they ran through the streets of Manhattan in a futile attempt to avoid the rolling cloud of debris. I imagined the despair someone must have felt to have to choose between burning to death or jumping out of a building.
Needless to say, my heart aches tonight.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Be Vewy, Vewy, Qwiet...
Dating in your 40's is difficult. Meeting single men who you're attracted to and are honestly interested in getting to know you and not just getting to know the inside of your vagina is quite difficult. I mean, I'm sure my vagina is very interesting and inviting, but so is my mind. :)
I may have mentioned that I started online dating again a few months back. I've had A LOT of first dates and only one second date and that second date turned out to be with a guy who has a history of domestic abuse. Needless to say it didn't lead to a third date.
Well, I had a great first date last night that will hopefully lead to an even better second and then, well, let's be honest...I would like to eventually introduce him to my vagina.
This guy, we'll call him "Kung Fu," was cool, interesting, different and slightly odd, and pretty easy on the eyes. All important qualities to Spiffy Chick. I did get the feeling, though, that he may have some commitment phobia. I can point fingers because I, too, may have a touch of the phobia.
My view on dating is that if I meet someone who I'm attracted to, find interesting and enjoy sharing space with, I would like to focus my energy on that person. That feeling is so rare that when I find it in someone who I can tolerate for an entire evening without wanting to make up a fake illness, I'd like to prolong the feeling.
I'm not saying that after the first date he should give me his class ring and letter jacket or that I'll promise my virginity to him (shut up). I'm just saying that I find it easier to focus on one guy at a time...OK, maximum of two guys at a time.
Kung Fu told me that (paraphrasing) while he liked me and that he wanted to see me again, he was still going to be out "hunting" for other girls to date. If and when we decided to start introducing our girl and boy parts to each other, THEN he would stop the hunt.
My question to you: do all guys constantly think that that there is something better around the corner, and if they stop hunting they'll settle for something "slightly less" than what they could have had? Do men ever grow up and out of this delusion? Does that extra shot of testosterone flowing around their veins make then think that by settling down, that they will eventually whither and die?
Know that I'm not one of those girls who generalizes all men. I know that not all men are commitment phobes. Only the men that I'm attracted to, apparently.
So I've decided that if Kung Fu wants to hunt, then I'm going to keep hunting as well. Afterall, I've always wanted to be a warrior like Itzpapalotl, the "clawed butterfly," and I can rock a loin cloth if necessary.
Plus, there's this other guy, "GI Joe," who has potential...
I may have mentioned that I started online dating again a few months back. I've had A LOT of first dates and only one second date and that second date turned out to be with a guy who has a history of domestic abuse. Needless to say it didn't lead to a third date.
Well, I had a great first date last night that will hopefully lead to an even better second and then, well, let's be honest...I would like to eventually introduce him to my vagina.
This guy, we'll call him "Kung Fu," was cool, interesting, different and slightly odd, and pretty easy on the eyes. All important qualities to Spiffy Chick. I did get the feeling, though, that he may have some commitment phobia. I can point fingers because I, too, may have a touch of the phobia.
My view on dating is that if I meet someone who I'm attracted to, find interesting and enjoy sharing space with, I would like to focus my energy on that person. That feeling is so rare that when I find it in someone who I can tolerate for an entire evening without wanting to make up a fake illness, I'd like to prolong the feeling.
I'm not saying that after the first date he should give me his class ring and letter jacket or that I'll promise my virginity to him (shut up). I'm just saying that I find it easier to focus on one guy at a time...OK, maximum of two guys at a time.
Kung Fu told me that (paraphrasing) while he liked me and that he wanted to see me again, he was still going to be out "hunting" for other girls to date. If and when we decided to start introducing our girl and boy parts to each other, THEN he would stop the hunt.
My question to you: do all guys constantly think that that there is something better around the corner, and if they stop hunting they'll settle for something "slightly less" than what they could have had? Do men ever grow up and out of this delusion? Does that extra shot of testosterone flowing around their veins make then think that by settling down, that they will eventually whither and die?
Know that I'm not one of those girls who generalizes all men. I know that not all men are commitment phobes. Only the men that I'm attracted to, apparently.
So I've decided that if Kung Fu wants to hunt, then I'm going to keep hunting as well. Afterall, I've always wanted to be a warrior like Itzpapalotl, the "clawed butterfly," and I can rock a loin cloth if necessary.
Plus, there's this other guy, "GI Joe," who has potential...
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
If I Were a Boy...
Tonight I've decided to talk about something guys love and girls should probably love a little more - blow jobs.
Yes, tonight's blog is dedicated to mouth lovin', knob slobbin', head, BJs, felatio, hummers, Lewinskis, playin' the skin flute, smokin' pole...you get the picture.
As a girl, I know my opinion on the subject - you give, you get. How long you get depends on a few things, like are you trying to slowly push my head down or arrange your genitals to be in the general vacinity of my face? Sorry, you may get bitten. (All male readers suddenly went from a semi-chubby thinking about a BJ to complete flacidity thinking about being bitten. Yes, I made up the word "flacidity." :)
I thought I'd ask one of my guy friends his opinion on mouth lovin'. Granted, this particular friend has issues expressing his emotions and actually emotionally connecting to a woman, but he's a good guy and an avid fan of Spiffy. He's kind of the male version of Spiffy. He's who I would be in an alternate universe if I turned into a dude. Well, kind of. :)
Anyway...moving on. My question to "Alternate Universe Spiffy," or AUS, was whether he found it sexy when a girl looked up at him while she was giving him the business or if he'd rather just look at the top of her head?
I'm really not sure why I even asked him that question because I knew the answer and he didn't disappoint me. AUS said, and I quote, "I don't spend my time staring but when I do look down, eye contact is normally just strange and leads to everyone making fake porno faces...which can on occasion damper the moment." He went on to close his sexist statement by saying, "A good blow jobber needs to get to work. Looking up seems needy and can sometimes be pathetic. Concentrate on what's important - my junk."
Ah...gotta love AUS...makes me want to give a thousand hummers to guys just like him! :) xoxo
Another good guy friend of mine once told me that there isn't anything better than a "good old, sloppy BJ." The term just puts visions of spit-laden pubic hair and a large wet spot on the bed. Neither of which are sexy thoughts. But then again...I'm not a dude!
So what is it about BJs that guys love so much? Is it that they don't actually have to look at who is pleasuring them? That they can get lost in the fantasy of the moment? Or is it a control issue? Or maybe, JUST MAYBE, I'm overanalyzing the entire thought process and it really is just because it feels good? I mean, come on. I'm never one to over analyze...
Girls, what are your thoughts? Guys, care to share your opinions?
I'm a little scared about the feedback I'll get on this blog, but I promised AUS I'd offer a "male Spiffy" perspective on something and this is what I came up with.
At least I didn't ask your opinion of the shocker...
Yes, tonight's blog is dedicated to mouth lovin', knob slobbin', head, BJs, felatio, hummers, Lewinskis, playin' the skin flute, smokin' pole...you get the picture.
As a girl, I know my opinion on the subject - you give, you get. How long you get depends on a few things, like are you trying to slowly push my head down or arrange your genitals to be in the general vacinity of my face? Sorry, you may get bitten. (All male readers suddenly went from a semi-chubby thinking about a BJ to complete flacidity thinking about being bitten. Yes, I made up the word "flacidity." :)
I thought I'd ask one of my guy friends his opinion on mouth lovin'. Granted, this particular friend has issues expressing his emotions and actually emotionally connecting to a woman, but he's a good guy and an avid fan of Spiffy. He's kind of the male version of Spiffy. He's who I would be in an alternate universe if I turned into a dude. Well, kind of. :)
Anyway...moving on. My question to "Alternate Universe Spiffy," or AUS, was whether he found it sexy when a girl looked up at him while she was giving him the business or if he'd rather just look at the top of her head?
I'm really not sure why I even asked him that question because I knew the answer and he didn't disappoint me. AUS said, and I quote, "I don't spend my time staring but when I do look down, eye contact is normally just strange and leads to everyone making fake porno faces...which can on occasion damper the moment." He went on to close his sexist statement by saying, "A good blow jobber needs to get to work. Looking up seems needy and can sometimes be pathetic. Concentrate on what's important - my junk."
Ah...gotta love AUS...makes me want to give a thousand hummers to guys just like him! :) xoxo
Another good guy friend of mine once told me that there isn't anything better than a "good old, sloppy BJ." The term just puts visions of spit-laden pubic hair and a large wet spot on the bed. Neither of which are sexy thoughts. But then again...I'm not a dude!
So what is it about BJs that guys love so much? Is it that they don't actually have to look at who is pleasuring them? That they can get lost in the fantasy of the moment? Or is it a control issue? Or maybe, JUST MAYBE, I'm overanalyzing the entire thought process and it really is just because it feels good? I mean, come on. I'm never one to over analyze...
Girls, what are your thoughts? Guys, care to share your opinions?
I'm a little scared about the feedback I'll get on this blog, but I promised AUS I'd offer a "male Spiffy" perspective on something and this is what I came up with.
At least I didn't ask your opinion of the shocker...
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
More Random Thoughts...
My 12.5 fans seem to like it when I post "random thoughts" and since I can't seem to form an entire thought tonight...BACK, BY SEMI-POPULAR DEMAND... it's "Spiffy's Random Thoughts"! Otherwise known as a typical day in my mind.
- I like the view from my new deck. I'm on the third floor which is far enough up that wanna be burglars or guys named Kenny with bad teeth can't get in, but close enough that I wouldn't turn into Spiffy Soup if I had to jump. You know, if there was a fire or snake attack of some sort.
- I met a guy named Heath from Albuquerque, NM a couple of weeks ago who was one of the coolest guys I've ever met. Not to mention, the BEST kisser *sigh*. Of course, he was only here for the weekend and I'll never see him again. Fate hates me. I think of you every time I hear Radiohead, Heath... "I don't want to be your friend. I just want to be your lover. No matter how it ends. No matter how it starts." I'm wrapping this thought up and sending it out to the universe, "I'm really glad I met you, even if it was for a moment. You made a lasting impression on me. Thank you."
- Proof that looks are only a small percentage of the "attraction factor," I noticed this guy who was boarding my flight from Atlanta to KC last weekend. He was nice to look at, so I looked at him (sue me). Unfortunately I sat behind him on the plane and had to listen to him drone on about himself to the guy next to him for two hours. Check off one more guy from my spank-bank.
- I'm pretty sure I saw an actual white-supremacist at the gym yesterday. No shit. I've seen plenty movie renditions, but this guy was working out on the Nautilus equipment, proudly his pale, bald head and displaying his hate message tattoos. There were three words, one down the back of each arm and one across the back of his neck. I think they were, "Act, Eradicate, Dominate," or some shit like that. Seriously, I had to keep myself from staring at him because I was afraid he'd know that I've had relations with a black guy and immediately hold some sort of white-supremacist grudge against me and try to kill me. Or, at the very least, carve a swastika into my boob.
- Speaking of the gym, what's up with guys wearing black dress looking socks up to their mid-calf along with tennis shoes and shorts? I bet I saw at least five guys sporting this look at the gym yesterday. Is this some new fashion statement that I wasn't privy to? Hey guys, guess what? It's not hot. It looks like you're channelling your inner grandpa and if there's one thing I've yet to find hot it's old balls and loose skin. Loose balls, sure. Just not old.
- And finally, I thought you should all know that I never heard from Hot Dad. *heavy sigh* Oh well, his loss, right? But on a positive note, I've never heard back from Yuck-mouth Kenny, either. You win some, you lose some, right?!
- I like the view from my new deck. I'm on the third floor which is far enough up that wanna be burglars or guys named Kenny with bad teeth can't get in, but close enough that I wouldn't turn into Spiffy Soup if I had to jump. You know, if there was a fire or snake attack of some sort.
- I met a guy named Heath from Albuquerque, NM a couple of weeks ago who was one of the coolest guys I've ever met. Not to mention, the BEST kisser *sigh*. Of course, he was only here for the weekend and I'll never see him again. Fate hates me. I think of you every time I hear Radiohead, Heath... "I don't want to be your friend. I just want to be your lover. No matter how it ends. No matter how it starts." I'm wrapping this thought up and sending it out to the universe, "I'm really glad I met you, even if it was for a moment. You made a lasting impression on me. Thank you."
- Proof that looks are only a small percentage of the "attraction factor," I noticed this guy who was boarding my flight from Atlanta to KC last weekend. He was nice to look at, so I looked at him (sue me). Unfortunately I sat behind him on the plane and had to listen to him drone on about himself to the guy next to him for two hours. Check off one more guy from my spank-bank.
- I'm pretty sure I saw an actual white-supremacist at the gym yesterday. No shit. I've seen plenty movie renditions, but this guy was working out on the Nautilus equipment, proudly his pale, bald head and displaying his hate message tattoos. There were three words, one down the back of each arm and one across the back of his neck. I think they were, "Act, Eradicate, Dominate," or some shit like that. Seriously, I had to keep myself from staring at him because I was afraid he'd know that I've had relations with a black guy and immediately hold some sort of white-supremacist grudge against me and try to kill me. Or, at the very least, carve a swastika into my boob.
- Speaking of the gym, what's up with guys wearing black dress looking socks up to their mid-calf along with tennis shoes and shorts? I bet I saw at least five guys sporting this look at the gym yesterday. Is this some new fashion statement that I wasn't privy to? Hey guys, guess what? It's not hot. It looks like you're channelling your inner grandpa and if there's one thing I've yet to find hot it's old balls and loose skin. Loose balls, sure. Just not old.
- And finally, I thought you should all know that I never heard from Hot Dad. *heavy sigh* Oh well, his loss, right? But on a positive note, I've never heard back from Yuck-mouth Kenny, either. You win some, you lose some, right?!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
What the Eff Just Happened??
About an hour and a half ago, I lost a friend that I've had for over 25 years. Not lost as in she "died," but she's now officially dead to me, so I guess she did kind of die.
Shawna and I have been friends since sixth grade. We've grown up together and like everyone, have changed a lot over the years. Well, I can say that I've changed a lot over the years but I'm not so sure about her after tonight.
Our lives have gone in separate directions over the years, but we've always managed to keep at least a pinky finger in each other's door. We met for dinner and drinks tonight for what I thought was some much needed time to catch up and shoot the shit. Apparently she felt it was the perfect time to lay an all out assault on my integrity and make me feel like shit about things that happened years, and I mean YEARS ago.
So my question to you is this; is it normal to hold on to things that may (or may not) have happened so many years ago? Is it appropriate to berate your friend in a public place and tell her how shitty you felt she treated you years ago? Is it the act of a sane woman when she tells you that you, personally, are the reason she doesn't have certain friends anymore because you drove a wedge in between them, all the while telling you how much she loves and misses you and "will never let you go"?
What just happened to me tonight was one of the most surreal, odd and sad experiences I've ever had. I had so many conflicting emotions thrown at me in a short period, I thought that Carrie may have possessed her body. (That's a 70's horror flick reference for my young readers.)
I'm not sure what she felt she'd gain by picking a fight with me in a public place because she felt I "needed to know" the information, but she didn't gain anything. Instead she lost a life-long friend because, quite frankly, I don't need the drama or bullshit in my life. Period. THAT Shawna is the reason why my life is what it is today. Because I no longer put up with unnecessary bullshit or the people that bring it to me.
So, just in case there was an inch of truth in the smite she spewed at me this evening, I'd like to offer a formal apology to my friends.
If you've ever felt that I placed a wedge in between you and anyone else, I'm sorry. If you've ever felt like I "get whatever I want," I'm sorry. If you're still holding on to something I may have said about you or to you 20 years ago, well that's your fucking problem. Get over it. :)
In all seriousness, she put a dent in my heart tonight. I'm not sure where her anger came from, but apparently it's something she's held onto for years. I love all of my friends for who they are, differences or not, sanity or lack thereof.
She made me question my TOTAL BEING and I don't like that feeling. I'm all about introspection and self-reflection, but I've long since given up on self-destruction and I will not go back there. In the end, the ONLY person I can count on is myself and I believe in myself, Shawna. I'm sorry if you can't say the same about yourself but that IS NOT my fault.
So I was going to blog about this great guy that I met at Kanrocksas over the weekend and how fate (once again) teased me with something and then took it away from me, but then this happened and I felt I needed to get it off my chest.
I'll tell you all about Mr. Hot Lips another day. :)
Shawna and I have been friends since sixth grade. We've grown up together and like everyone, have changed a lot over the years. Well, I can say that I've changed a lot over the years but I'm not so sure about her after tonight.
Our lives have gone in separate directions over the years, but we've always managed to keep at least a pinky finger in each other's door. We met for dinner and drinks tonight for what I thought was some much needed time to catch up and shoot the shit. Apparently she felt it was the perfect time to lay an all out assault on my integrity and make me feel like shit about things that happened years, and I mean YEARS ago.
So my question to you is this; is it normal to hold on to things that may (or may not) have happened so many years ago? Is it appropriate to berate your friend in a public place and tell her how shitty you felt she treated you years ago? Is it the act of a sane woman when she tells you that you, personally, are the reason she doesn't have certain friends anymore because you drove a wedge in between them, all the while telling you how much she loves and misses you and "will never let you go"?
What just happened to me tonight was one of the most surreal, odd and sad experiences I've ever had. I had so many conflicting emotions thrown at me in a short period, I thought that Carrie may have possessed her body. (That's a 70's horror flick reference for my young readers.)
I'm not sure what she felt she'd gain by picking a fight with me in a public place because she felt I "needed to know" the information, but she didn't gain anything. Instead she lost a life-long friend because, quite frankly, I don't need the drama or bullshit in my life. Period. THAT Shawna is the reason why my life is what it is today. Because I no longer put up with unnecessary bullshit or the people that bring it to me.
So, just in case there was an inch of truth in the smite she spewed at me this evening, I'd like to offer a formal apology to my friends.
If you've ever felt that I placed a wedge in between you and anyone else, I'm sorry. If you've ever felt like I "get whatever I want," I'm sorry. If you're still holding on to something I may have said about you or to you 20 years ago, well that's your fucking problem. Get over it. :)
In all seriousness, she put a dent in my heart tonight. I'm not sure where her anger came from, but apparently it's something she's held onto for years. I love all of my friends for who they are, differences or not, sanity or lack thereof.
She made me question my TOTAL BEING and I don't like that feeling. I'm all about introspection and self-reflection, but I've long since given up on self-destruction and I will not go back there. In the end, the ONLY person I can count on is myself and I believe in myself, Shawna. I'm sorry if you can't say the same about yourself but that IS NOT my fault.
So I was going to blog about this great guy that I met at Kanrocksas over the weekend and how fate (once again) teased me with something and then took it away from me, but then this happened and I felt I needed to get it off my chest.
I'll tell you all about Mr. Hot Lips another day. :)
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Oh what a tangled web we weave...
I've dedicated several of my posts to my love life or lack thereof, so why stop now?
Over the weekend I moved to my new pad (and I L-O-V-E it), but I couldn't leave without one last effort to get into Hot Dad's pants.
I mentioned before that I was going to leave him a note if I didn't see him, so that's just what I did. I decided that if I were to have a chance in hell luring him into my "Spiffy web," I needed to keep it simple. Wemember. Be vewy, vewy, qwiet when hunting wabbits...
While the thought of drawing a picture of stick-figure me on the back of his stick-figure bike with my hands near his stick-figure penis would be an absolute HOOT, I'm not sure how he'd feel about it.
Instead I wrote a nice note and told him that one of the best things about living in that overpriced box over the last four years was chatting with him and that he should give me a call if he'd like to hang out sometime. Straight and too the point.
Note was written, now all I had to do was get it under the garage door. I had it all planned out. I'd been eyeing his garage for the past week and it looked like there was a gap at the bottom through which my note would fit just nicely. So once I'd finished cleaning and packing the last of my crap into my car, I grabbed the note from my purse and sauntered over to the garage. All the while looking around to make sure no one was watching me. I mean come on...I'M the only one who should be spying out my window!
When I got to the garage I bent over and tried to slide the note under the door. I quickly realized that the hole was not as big as it looked (that's what she said) because the note would not slide under.
I walked back to my car, dejected, but on my way back I had a quick pep talk with myself and reminded myself that I'd kick my own ass if I didn't do this, so I went back to the garage and SHOVED that bitch under the door! Phew! I hope I didn't wedge it into a random tool lying on the ground, but regardless, as of this very moment, I have not heard from him. BUT, I'm not giving up hope. :)
Now, onto the next "Spiffy moment." I hired a moving company to handle my move over the weekend. While I'm glad I did, I think I may have made a new "friend" that I didn't really want to make...
One of the movers, Kenny aka "Texas" took a liking to me. Not sure why; I was a sweaty, no-make-up, messy hair, gross-looking pig, but he said I had "a nice smile and a great attitude." CLEARLY he doesn't know me...
What I learned about Kenny because he talked A LOT about himself: he just moved here six weeks ago from Texas because he "needed a change." He left behind his two daughters and an ex-wife (who he loved so much he had her name tattoo'd on his neck) to move to Missouri and work for a moving company. He took a few semesters of college (I can't remember where) and a speaking course because he "didn't want to offend people."
He was looking for someone to show him around Kansas City and apparently thought I was just the girl to do it because he proceeded to lay the mack down. I was bombarded with "babes," and "sweets," and "dears." He told me how he loved to cook and how great of a cook he was. He mentioned that I'll need to get a bigger TV "if he's going to come over and hang out with me." He mentioned that "if this thing works out, you'll have to tell me what's in those boxes in your storage unit." Seriously. Layed. It. On. Thick.
While Kenny was "charming," he had THE WORST teeth I've ever seen in my entire life. So tobacco stained they really didn't have any hint of white to them. I know, I've painted a beautiful picture of Kenny, haven't I. You would've thought that being the bitch that I can be I would have put the kabosh on it right from the start but truthfully, I was afraid he'd break my shit or go crazy, so I fed into it.
When they finally finished (5 hours later) he asked if I wanted his number, so I took it. What I should have done was just put it into my phone and left it at that, but what did I do? I FUCKING CALLED HIM SO HE HAD MY NUMBER. What the fuck was wrong with me?? I blame it on extreme heat exhaustion and dehydration. I don't think I had peed at all and I'm pretty sure there were toxins backed up that may have affected my brain...I'm just sayin'...
So good ole' Kenny sent me a few text messages, all very nice, telling me how he would be a great friend to have, etc., blah, blah. Unfortunately, I don't think I'd be a very good friend to Kenny, so I decided to nip it in the bud before the bud tried to bloom. I apologized for giving him my number and leading him to believe that I was interested in anything. He seemed to take it well and I haven't heard from him since. Unfortunately, he knows where I live...ugh.
I will conclude my post by letting you all know that the "hole in the pit of my stomach" feeling has finally subsided. I absofuckinglutely love my new place and I can't wait to have people over. I've had a couple of visitors, which is pretty close to the total number of people that ever came to visit me when I lived in Lenexhell, so things are looking up!
Over the weekend I moved to my new pad (and I L-O-V-E it), but I couldn't leave without one last effort to get into Hot Dad's pants.
I mentioned before that I was going to leave him a note if I didn't see him, so that's just what I did. I decided that if I were to have a chance in hell luring him into my "Spiffy web," I needed to keep it simple. Wemember. Be vewy, vewy, qwiet when hunting wabbits...
While the thought of drawing a picture of stick-figure me on the back of his stick-figure bike with my hands near his stick-figure penis would be an absolute HOOT, I'm not sure how he'd feel about it.
Instead I wrote a nice note and told him that one of the best things about living in that overpriced box over the last four years was chatting with him and that he should give me a call if he'd like to hang out sometime. Straight and too the point.
Note was written, now all I had to do was get it under the garage door. I had it all planned out. I'd been eyeing his garage for the past week and it looked like there was a gap at the bottom through which my note would fit just nicely. So once I'd finished cleaning and packing the last of my crap into my car, I grabbed the note from my purse and sauntered over to the garage. All the while looking around to make sure no one was watching me. I mean come on...I'M the only one who should be spying out my window!
When I got to the garage I bent over and tried to slide the note under the door. I quickly realized that the hole was not as big as it looked (that's what she said) because the note would not slide under.
I walked back to my car, dejected, but on my way back I had a quick pep talk with myself and reminded myself that I'd kick my own ass if I didn't do this, so I went back to the garage and SHOVED that bitch under the door! Phew! I hope I didn't wedge it into a random tool lying on the ground, but regardless, as of this very moment, I have not heard from him. BUT, I'm not giving up hope. :)
Now, onto the next "Spiffy moment." I hired a moving company to handle my move over the weekend. While I'm glad I did, I think I may have made a new "friend" that I didn't really want to make...
One of the movers, Kenny aka "Texas" took a liking to me. Not sure why; I was a sweaty, no-make-up, messy hair, gross-looking pig, but he said I had "a nice smile and a great attitude." CLEARLY he doesn't know me...
What I learned about Kenny because he talked A LOT about himself: he just moved here six weeks ago from Texas because he "needed a change." He left behind his two daughters and an ex-wife (who he loved so much he had her name tattoo'd on his neck) to move to Missouri and work for a moving company. He took a few semesters of college (I can't remember where) and a speaking course because he "didn't want to offend people."
He was looking for someone to show him around Kansas City and apparently thought I was just the girl to do it because he proceeded to lay the mack down. I was bombarded with "babes," and "sweets," and "dears." He told me how he loved to cook and how great of a cook he was. He mentioned that I'll need to get a bigger TV "if he's going to come over and hang out with me." He mentioned that "if this thing works out, you'll have to tell me what's in those boxes in your storage unit." Seriously. Layed. It. On. Thick.
While Kenny was "charming," he had THE WORST teeth I've ever seen in my entire life. So tobacco stained they really didn't have any hint of white to them. I know, I've painted a beautiful picture of Kenny, haven't I. You would've thought that being the bitch that I can be I would have put the kabosh on it right from the start but truthfully, I was afraid he'd break my shit or go crazy, so I fed into it.
When they finally finished (5 hours later) he asked if I wanted his number, so I took it. What I should have done was just put it into my phone and left it at that, but what did I do? I FUCKING CALLED HIM SO HE HAD MY NUMBER. What the fuck was wrong with me?? I blame it on extreme heat exhaustion and dehydration. I don't think I had peed at all and I'm pretty sure there were toxins backed up that may have affected my brain...I'm just sayin'...
So good ole' Kenny sent me a few text messages, all very nice, telling me how he would be a great friend to have, etc., blah, blah. Unfortunately, I don't think I'd be a very good friend to Kenny, so I decided to nip it in the bud before the bud tried to bloom. I apologized for giving him my number and leading him to believe that I was interested in anything. He seemed to take it well and I haven't heard from him since. Unfortunately, he knows where I live...ugh.
I will conclude my post by letting you all know that the "hole in the pit of my stomach" feeling has finally subsided. I absofuckinglutely love my new place and I can't wait to have people over. I've had a couple of visitors, which is pretty close to the total number of people that ever came to visit me when I lived in Lenexhell, so things are looking up!
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