Oh baby you, you got what I neeeeeeed

I’ve said it once before, but it bears repeating.

I do not date my friends. I just won’t do it. I don’t mean my hardly acquaintance friends, or friends of friends; I mean the guys that I consider to be someone I can confide in, someone I can count on, someone that knows me on a deeper level than the norm. You shouldn’t take it personally, it isn’t any reflection on you as a person. You are not lacking some crucial component that would otherwise make you date worthy to me. It’s just that I keep my friendships and my romantic relationships separate. Really separate, like a masking tape line down the center of a room separate. You stay on that side!

All of your arguments as to why we should be together are invalid.

I know, I know, we get along sooooo well. We like the same things. We are both reasonably good looking and our children would be gorgeous and hilarious and genius….. but no. Just no. Your penis could be dipped in gold and the sun could shine out of your ass and it wouldn't matter. Well, it might matter; But do you see how I am taking this to the extreme to prove a point here? It’s just not gonna happen.  And if you feel the need to keep reminding me that you want more than what I am willing to give, I will probably start distancing myself from you.

I tried it one time; Getting romantically involved with someone I considered to be a friend. A best friend even. It worked out really really well. If by really well you mean that we don’t even make eye contact in public anymore. It definitely makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Warm and fuzzy and tempted to vomit.

I’ve found myself in a situation where I feel the need to make feelings clear, again. I don’t really enjoy repeating myself.  But here we go.

*Ahem*

No. The end.

No one likes nice people, anyway

This is my horoscope today:

"You might be tempted to smooth out the edges of your personality and play it nice and safe today, but why give in to this temptation? If you put too much emphasis on not being offensive, irritating, or confusing, how are you going to challenge anyone? Stick to your true ideas, and don't worry if some people just don't get it -- they're not supposed to, anyway. You've got a targeted audience, so speak to that group, and only that group. You can't be popular with everyone, so why waste your time trying?"

Pretty sure I was just insulted. Offensive, irritating AND confusing??  All at the same time even. It's a wonder I have any friends.

 Oh, that explains it

I guess as a Capricorn I am not allowed to be nice. 

I'm just going to keep looking at this

Super Tweek, Super Tweek, I'm super Tweeky!!!

I have been cursed with a cold in the middle of summer. It is 100 plus degrees outside and I am sniffly and congested and generally yucky. It's not fair!



I am a miserable sick mess. It feels as though someone has stolen my puppy (better known as summer time shenanigans) and then added insult to injury by putting a voodoo curse on me that makes my nose run CONSTANTLY.




Instead of sitting around and wallowing in self-pity (any longer) I decided to visit my friendly neighborhood pharmacy to procure a cure for my plague.

I wandered the isles looking for the perfect miracle cure.  There are so many medications to choose from and I have no idea really what the difference is between them all. So I went to the pharmacy counter to ask someone knowledgeable what my best bet is for kicking some summertime cold ass.

After going over all (and there are a lot) my various options, I decided on the 12 hour dose of something that promises to dry me up like the desert. I whip out my debit card to pay, and the pharmacy lady asks me for my ID. Not because she needs it to confirm that I am not using a stolen card, that is what pin numbers are for, but because apparently she needs to register me into some sort of database of sad sick people who purchase cold medicine. It took forever, I must have stood there for like 10 minutes while she entered my entire life into her computer. I know why.... it's because Tweekers have ruined simple drug store trips for the rest of us by making meth out of EVERYTHING. I was so irritated that I am sure I was giving her the stink eye. Do I look like a tweeker? Do I look as if I know how to cook at all, let alone meth??

Dripping snot on the pharmacy counter was not my most glamorous moment, but I don't think I looked THIS bad. Geeezzzzz

 

Many moons later, when I finally made it home, I took my medicine like a good girl and proceeded to pass out. Lather, rinse, repeat until I am finally all better. I wanna play in the sun!!!!!

I'm sorta cute and cuddly when I am not being a mega snatch

Something was made overly clear to me last weekend, on two separate occasions (for emphasis? Thank you, Universe). Most boys only want one thing. We all know what that one thing is.

That is lame because I have lots more to offer than that one thing. For example, I am a really good person to play board games with (I cheat, but I do it discreetly so that you don't know you are being hosed).

 And then I slyly move my Monopoly top hat 2 extra spaces

I can name that tune in about 6 notes or less.

 "It's the Macarena!"

I have a ridiculously amazing collection of music and movies, and if you play your cards right, you MIGHT gain limited access to it.

 Ghostbusters is just the tip of the iceberg, my friends

I am cute and cuddly sometimes (like 6% of the time).

 

AND the good news is that if all those things weren't enough reason to want to hang out with me, I do an alright job at the one thing (I mean, practice makes perfect and I am always looking to improve, haha!), assuming you survive to the point when I would consider letting that one thing happen.

So the best course of action is NOT to walk up to me, introduce yourself and then proceed to try to take my pants off, as if you are God's gift and I should be so lucky. Ewwwwww. Nice try.

50 shades of embarrassment for having read this book

I made the mistake of asking for book recommendations recently. I say mistake because I must have temporarily forgotten that I don't really have the same taste in literature as most of my friends.

Needless to say, but I am going to say it anyway, EVERY female that I know suggested that I read Fifty Shades of Grey. Since I am intrigued by anything surrounded in so much controversy and hype, I decided to try it out. I wasn't really even sure what it was about prior to picking it up.

It was awful. It was so awful it was painful. In fact, as I am typing the word awful, I am rolling my eyes and groaning.

My first complaint is that the book is poorly written. It's as if the author only had a small list of adjectives to choose from and had to rotate them often. By the end, if I had to read the phrase "my inner goddess" one more time, I was going to throw that book out the window! The author would be well served to keep a thesaurus and dictionary on the desk during her next attempt. I do not proclaim to be the best writer ever, I am not, but I am also not published.

My second complaint is that, in my opinion, the book is undoing about 80 years of progress when it comes to the feminist movement for equality.

 Rosie the Riveter is very disappointed in you, Anastasia Steele

The book is about a man who wants to make a 22 year old virgin sign a contract that basically allows him to have control over her entire life and punish her, physically, when she steps out of bounds of his warped idea of acceptable behavior.  Lets put aside the degrading sex portion of the story (I'll get to that in a moment) and instead focus on the fact that this man, Christian, can have ANY woman that he wants. Instead he picks a sweet, innocent, doesn't know any better really, girl to manipulate and control. He wants to tell her how to dress, how to style her hair, what hair she should wax off (OW!!), what she should drive, how often she should eat, who she can socialize with and where, etc etc. He is a repulsive man. I speak from experience here. Maybe there was never any signed contract and he was not the most handsome man ever described, but I have had my share of time, which was WAY TOO LONG, with someone who was equally controlling and manipulative and who seemed to enjoy the physical punishment when I stepped out of line. Over sharing? Eh.... it's my blog. And I feel like it's important to say that no part of the behavior described by the author should be marketed as an ideal situation that sad lonely women should sit at home and fantasize about. The opposite should be the case. You should feel so badly for the protagonist, Anna, that if she were your friend in real life you would send her to the nearest women's shelter for hiding and counseling. 

My third and final complaint is just..... well, it's just that I am really really REALLY creeped out by all my friends recommending this book so enthusiastically. I don't wanna know that you all get all moist over the idea of spanking and being tied up. That's just the tame stuff. I am now convinced that every single woman who recommended that book to me wants it in the ass, like, on the regular,  and.... and..... ew.

What's wrong with normal, every day, run of the mill sex? Maybe I am doing it wrong. I am all for a little spanking and hair pulling (yes please, actually), but for reals if you have an entire room in your house that is referred to as "The red room of pain", you don't get to come near me. Ever. I like to feel good, not be made to cry in pain. Sex should never involve a safe word. Seriously, good Lord. If you hurt me in any way, I will punch you in the balls. Then we will see who is crying. If this makes me too "vanilla", then so be it. I like vanilla. Lots of people like vanilla. Obviously not my friends who think Fifty Shades of Grey is the best book they have ever read. Clearly those friends are weirdo perverts. I will stick with vanilla, maybe throw some sprinkles, whip cream and a cherry on top for special occasions.

My kind of sex

So there you go. That is what I thought of Fifty Shades of Grey.  Oh! I forgot to mention.... did anyone else think it was bizarre how the author could spend 4 pages describing how Christian looked in a pair of ripped jeans (granted, it sounded vaguely hot) but somehow managed to condense the birth of their child into two short, concise paragraphs? Maybe that was just me,expecting an actual story and not just long drawn out sex scenes told the same way over and over and over again. Silly me. That's what I get for reading a New York Times Best Seller. 

Side note- I am hyper aware of the fact that I just admitted to liking being spanked and having my hair pulled on the internet. I am so grateful at this moment that my dad does not even know how to turn the computer on, let alone navigate the interwebs to my blog. And mom.... Sorry!

"Seduce my mind, and you can have my body, find my soul and I'm yours forever", Anonymous

Musical loves of the now

I spent a ridiculous amount of time trapped in my car last week.

While I was traveling all over creation for various bids, I had a lot of time to listen to the radio. When I found myself in areas where there was no radio station coming in, or shall I say no radio station aside from the "I wanna talk about the glory of God allllllll day" station, I happily fell back on my trusty ipod randomly filled with various musical goodness.

I feel compelled to tell you that if you have not heard these songs.... you should. Some are not so new, but still genius. You're welcome.

Back in the saddle. A socially awkward saddle.

I went to Mexico once. I think it was about 7 years ago. Iiiiiick, that was much too long ago. Anywho, while I was there I went horseback riding out into the jungle to this really beautiful waterfall. It was at least an hour and a half ride in and then another hour and a half back to the ranch. There was a pretty big group of us that went. All the horses were beautiful and majestic.... except mine. His name was Grenudo (spelling?? I have no idea. Pronounced GREY-NOO-DOE). And he was a little goofy looking and smaller than the rest. He was pretty much made for me. I am subconsciously drawn to the small and goofy in the world, I like misfits. It was Grenudo and I against the big fancy horses and much more experienced riders. Of course we would come out ahead because what we lacked in stature and experience, we made up for in good humor and heart. Off we went!

Well, while I was overflowing with good humor and heart, Grenudo was lazy and clearly bored with the whole experience. We would go a hundred feet or so and then he would decide it was time for a break, and literally try to lie down on the trail while I was still perched on top of him, flailing to keep my balance and not topple off head first. He would veer off the trail to eat some shrubbery or just try to wander off for no good reason! On top of his antics the saddle was a little loose and settling off to one side instead of center. I spent the entire ride over-correcting to the opposite side to compensate for it. It had been years since I had ridden a horse, but I felt like I was being punished by the universe for some imaginary wrong I had committed. Had I not tipped the waiter enough at breakfast? Was Grenudo expecting apples, or carrots, or.... something? He was a wayward child who refused to listen to me. I tried all manner of encouraging words:

"Yee-haw!"

"Giddy-Up!"

"Mush?!?"

Ugh. Grenudo had a mind of his own and I went from being sure that he and I would emerge from the jungle victorious, waterfall trail conquerors, to sloppily galloping in well behind all the others, looking disheveled (well I did, he looked normal) and thanking the heavens for arriving safely back at the ranch in one piece and not lost out in the wilderness to die alone.

Bet you didn't know I was a cowgurrrl? Rustled up this pic of my epic horseback riding adventure. Save a horse...... ;)

Now, all these years later, whenever I hear the phrase "Back in the saddle again", I take a trip down memory lane to my little adventure with Grenudo, and I laugh.  Getting back in any saddle should not be so trying! And humiliating.

Yet, here I am. Back in the saddle. The proverbially dating saddle. And it is as awkward and trying as I remember it being. I am a confident girl. I am almost never at a loss for things to say (you've seen my blog, right?) and I am always comfortable enough in my own skin to be at ease and comfortable around anyone, stranger or long time friend.  Having said that, WHY DO I FEEL LIKE A SOCIALLY STUNTED, STUTTERING, SWEATY MESS???  

I am doing this dating thing all wrong. I must be. There is no other reason why I lay in bed at night and think "Arrrrrgggg, why did I say THAT?" And it's not even as if I have so much dating to do... but there is this one guy who seems to like spending time with me. And the time spent is lots of fun! But I will admit that I feel more often than not like I just trotted up, hanging half sideways out of the saddle of my runty-donkey-esque steed, Grenudo, with twigs in my hair and forgetting how to say my own name. Oh and feeling about as attractive as a sea cow.

sexy, no?

Dating gives me heartburn. And makes me use ridiculous run on sentences. But the hand holding makes it better. Seriously, holding hands may be the best thing in life.

I am going to take a deep breath and remind myself that I am awesome and shouldn't feel less than so ever. Grenudo and I got this! Mush!!

DTF? Ummmmmm not so much

Ugh.... shoot me now. I just used both initialism and a Jersey Shore reference in the same title. I hate myself.

I hate people who abbreviate everything. I assume that people who do so are lazy imbeciles that cannot spell. I am 31 years old and I went to school for a long time in order to learn to spell, put together grammatically correct sentences, and give off the general impression that I am not an idiot. Other than the occasional "omg" (because it is just so stinking prevalent now) I almost always spell out any phrase that I am using, whatever the medium may be.

I have found myself on more than one occasion having to resort to Google searches of various abbreviations of phrases because I have no idea what people are trying to say to me. Thank the heavens for Urban Dictionary. Ew.... shoot me for saying that too.

 My teenage niece is my friend on Facebook and I seriously have no idea what half of her posts are saying because there are no fully spelled out phrases. I just sit and scratch my head.

Am I too old for the Facebook now? I feel like it. Look what I just did there, I referred to it as "the Facebook", like when old people start calling illness "the cancer".

Awwwww, thanks :)

Are we dumbing down?  It makes me sad. I'd like to start a revolution. A "Let's properly spell out all words and phrases like big kids" movement.

Who's with me?!