trash

Why is it that people feel as though it is always someone’s job to pick up after them? What tells a person that it is okay to leave their starbucks cup on the table after they leave even though the trashcan is on their way out the door? Clearly this wouldn’t apply in places where people are paid to serve you, but we all know the difference, don’t we? I’m sure I have been guilty on more than one occasion of doing something stupid in this genre or making assumptions that were obvious to others. But in starbucks??? It isn’t like this is the first time you’ve been here. We all know how it works. They are kind enough to let people sit around for hours doing nothing and how do we repay them (ok, besides for the $5 latte)? We let them clean up after us, too. I can bet most of those workers are barely making enough to buy a latte with their hourly wage after taxes.

This is the same for people who feel like throwing trash and cigarette butts out the window is appropriate or not reprehensible. Or the women in bathrooms who get water all over the counter, throw paper towels everywhere or trash the toilets. Where did you grow up? What makes you so god-damned special that you think others should clean up the messes you make?? I wish I had your mother. Mine sure as hell didn’t clean up after me, and I am glad for that now. I know how to wash my own clothes, my own condo and my own dishes. I find myself so disgusted by these people who don’t. It is rude, presumptuous and completely unacceptable, but for some reason I see it on a daily basis.

Sometimes I hate Americans. We are so fucking spoiled, and all we can do is complain about it. Where the hell do we get off?? We have no right to complain about shit. We have everything we need to survive handed to us on a silver platter in comparison to other people in most other countries. As long as you make a reasonable amount of effort to get out of bed and keep a job, you will be fine. Not saying there aren’t the less fortunate here, too, but that’s off topic. And not to say a good rant isn't necessary (what do you think this blog is???), but don't take advantage of others in stupid, inconsiderate ways. Grow up, drink lots, and be merry.

Okay, I’ll end my rant here and get back to studying, or as choofly would say, learn how to fight The Man.

So little time ...

I have so much to blog about these days, but such little time to do it. In the midst of finals, everything else seems like a chore, even enjoyable things. But for a small recap (mainly to remind myself of what to blog about later), here are topics of current interest:

Taco toupee
Public appearances
Hearsay
Pillow talk

If any of you who have been around have any other topics that I have forgotten, please remind me. I will be back soon, I promise. Don't miss me too much ...

second thoughts

i am having second thoughts about my last post. not that i think that i am not so much the player, but more that i may have presented it in the wrong light. i am not TRYING to date as many men as possible, but I have not found anyone who has made me want to commit to them in quite some time, possibilities seem to present themselves rather regularly these days, and i seen no reason to tell perfectly good men no, even if i see no future in it. I am just trying to enjoy myself, not limit my options and see what happens. I didn't use to have this so-called problem, so I think it is a combination of narrowing down what I really want and having several choices in front of me to test out.

It is somewhat like a buffet. The fillers are in the beginning. the experts know to skip those or only pick very carefully. the good stuff is at the end, but some of the middle stuff is REALLY yummy and worth your stomach space. so, you test it all out before you commit. after you taste it all, you go back for the best items (and dessert, of course). if you come back to the same buffet multiple times, you eventually know, and go straight for, what's the best. skipping all the crap in between, but still grabbing a couple of the "not as worthy" items just for kicks.

That's where I am in my dating life. I know what's good, but still want a hot buttered roll and the ultimate chocolate dessert here and there. When that perfectly cooked piece of meat shows up, I'll be ready to fully commit and devour it in one sitting. Puns fully intended.

Playa

For years I have never quite understood the male “playa” mentality. Jumping from woman to woman, but keeping them all close enough to call for the occasional date, but never too close in catch they are spotted out with someone else. As an outsider, I view it as degrading to the woman “played” and as perpetuating the social negative male stereotypes. But, this system provides them plenty of guy time and allows them to keep things so casual that a date break is not a complete deal breaker. Besides, it keeps the women interested … everyone wants what they can’t tame.

After a few cocktails and much discussion on my current love life and guys in general, my friend totally calls me out – YOU are the playa!

At first I giggle ... guilty as charged. But after much thought, I begin to wonder what has changed for me that has morphed my complete outlook on dating. Is it a supply/demand issue? Just 5 years ago, most of my girlfriends were young, single hotties out on the town every weekend scoping out the guys. Now, most of my girlfriends are still young hotties, but seriously attached or married. For the men looking for a sensible single woman over 26 or 27, the pool of decent possibilities is seriously depleted. Of course, the number of available men is also on the downturn, but since men tend to mature a bit slower and get married a bit older than women -- the result seems to be a substantial improvement to my single status. Of course, this window of increased opportunity is only so big. Eventually, age will catch up with me and the only available men will be divorcees with children or complete 40 yr old losers that still view partying at Dewey Beach every weekend as the ultimate summer. But I think I will enjoy it while it lasts, but keep my eyes open for that special one that makes me tingle all over …

Technology rocks

Text messaging. The wave of the future. Or maybe it is already here, but I'm too old to really catch on completely. I know all the kids prefer it over actually TALKING on the phone. As IF!

Text messages from three different boys in the last couple of weeks: CJG, the New Guy and some random I basically said only hi to at a wedding reception Saturday night. I guess I best get used to it. I do love technology and I am the first to admit I am better on email or IM than on the phone. Gives you that extra minute of pause to think up that good reply that you just aren't quick enough to do in person most of the time. Makes me seem much more witty than I really am. But you can't be all that witty within the limits of text messaging. Or is that the artform that I have yet to master?

This handy little tool is somewhat foreign to me at times. I understand the beauty of it when you are in a loud crowded bar or at a show, etc. But what is the obsession about? Not to mention, it provides the other party with a permanent record of your drunken messages:

Will work that pussey all nite long.

Yep. That's what I received from CJG one night recently. Actually, that is what my friends received on my phone after they decided to fuck with him a little and play hard to get. Which brings me to the point that you never know who may be writing you or who may see your message. Please note that the key word is misspelled. Drunk spelling may be worse than drunk dialing. Forever engraved in my head and my cell phone. And don't think for one micro-second that I haven't pulled out my phone to show that to just about every single one of my girlfriends. I can't wait until the day I am out with a few of my ladies, and we run into him ... they are never quite as gentle as I am. Let the games begin!

Anonymity

As I continue to blog about my past, present and future dates, I have to wonder – what if I get found out by my current or past beaus? Obviously, I don’t use names, but it would be undoubtedly obvious to anyone close to me who I am referring to, especially if it is them! Really, does Carrie Bradshaw have this problem? She writes about all of her dirty laundry and never once is it mentioned by the man she is dating. They obviously know she writes a sex column – wouldn’t they read it and think, “She’s talking about me!” even if she wasn’t? Why wasn’t that ever an episode in Sex and the City? Stupid TV writers – what fantasy world are they living in anyway??? I know I would never hear the end of it if one of these fine, upstanding young, um, "men" ever found this site. Not that they don't truly deserve to know the truth of their fuckedupedness ...

Lucky

Ever have one of those nights with one of your friends that you just can’t explain to anyone else? That happened last night. Miss V and I met after work to look at shoes for her wedding. Sounds innocent enough, but I didn’t make it to work today as a result.

Shopping = food = beer = bar = boys = free beer = drunk = stupid = hangover = calling in sick.

Still in our work clothes, we manage to run into a couple of boys who want us to play pool. A friend from class shows up, too, and the night takes off.

PDA, booted out of the bar, after party, broken coffee table, carpet stains … just to throw out a few key words to describe the night. Burnt Orange Shirt guy gets cuter and cuter as he delivers the Stella bottles to us without hesitation. Good man. Unfortunately, he doesn’t live here, and he leaves tomorrow morning. Not that I need the kind of complication that a long distance fling would bring into my life anyway, but he definitely made me laugh more than most guys I’ve know. I’ll blame it on freedom – the freedom to be yourself in front of someone you will most likely never see again. It is rather liberating with just a hint of sadness. I am even free to admit that I’d go on a real date with him, only because it will never happen. My aloofness deserves a vacation every now and then – hopeless crushes are good. And as we all know too well, if there was a chance in hell that he’d be around for any amount of time, I’d pick him apart until all that was left was a meatless carcass.

On a final note, Miss V’s fiancé has officially banned us from planning play dates during the week. The voice mail he left me used words such as

“irresponsible” & “immature” & “not to be trusted”

in combination with the theme of repetition. Like we do this often or something … it has been at least 6 months since the last time we skipped out on work due to an unplanned week night out. A girl has to have a night out every so often. We are not 30 or married yet, why act like it? Hell, most of the time he drives the bus that takes us to Drunken Debauchery Land and although we are trying to escape by climbing out the windows he has us chained to the seats to ensure we endure the entire wild ride. I think he’s just jealous he wasn’t there.

No Class Wednesdays

The MCs (married chicks) decide that I must meet the new single guy at their work. Conveniently, the New Guy coordinates a happy hour on Wednesday, which just so happens is my night off from class. So, I coordinate with ermmagirl and head over to the bar. Within minutes of walking through the door, he is chatting me up, and things are going along smoothly. It took basically no effort to get him into a conversation. I guess that’s why he is in marketing. I move over to talk with some other friends and never get back to the New Guy. Two of his female friends join him and the groups separate. Wait a minute, don’t they realize that he is mine to assess for the evening? How am I supposed to find out everything wrong about him, critique him like a bad B movie and dismiss him if I can’t even grab his attention away from these two tramps?

Now we’ll have to meet again so that I can size him up appropriately. But that’s what this type of year is great for – happy hours and shameless flirting.

The night ends early, so what’s a single girl to do on her night off? Call the Redhead of course! He doesn’t hesitate to invite me over, and I don’t hesitate to accept. Things are definitely going well on that front, but I’m just not sure how long he’ll be able to hold my attention. I think I’ll just sit back and enjoy myself until I find out.

See? No class on Wednesdays.

Joyride

It has been a long week, and I am finally starting to feel more like myself again. Laughter is truly the best medicine. The Barbie short bus came out again on saturday night. Girls’ day was exactly what the situation required. Granted I haven’t been all that productive today because of the vast amounts of alcohol I imbibed last night, but it was well worth it. I haven’t had that kind of fun in a really long time and needed it desperately.

Ermmagirl is like a good luck charm or something when it comes to my dating life. Last time, it was The Youngin’ (a story for another time), and this time it was both Baldy and Mulva. Managed to get BOTH numbers in one night. Miss V also gets mad props for reeling them in with her acrobatics on the silver couch!! You would never know the place basically was empty based on our level of amusement. Thankfully, the whole night also was documented on camera. Ahhhh … I love technology.

On a side note, the Redhead stopped by tonight for a “study break.” Seemed more like a make-out break to me, but hell, who am I to argue about technicalities?!?!? I called him old, and he threatened to spank me for it … yeah, baby!