Zen into the room

A friend of mine told me about a cd release party in a nearby town and suggested that I go. It sounded like a fun time, except I never have anyone to do anything like that with. I get released from people’s presence during “significant other” time. It’s best that single people just work all the time. There’s really nothing to do once all of your friends have grown up while you haven’t yet. Don’t get me wrong, I love to do things alone…like write, play music, workout…probably going to a bar wouldn’t be at the top of that list- especially since I don’t drink. It was an interesting thought though. I felt like I should do it. I suppose that’s what the writer of a book I was reading meant when he said, “Don’t just talk about what you should do or else you’ll end up shoulding all over yourself.”…in this case, I should either dismiss the idea or decide to go do it! My friend wrote back with his advice:

“Relax, take deep breaths, Zen into the room and don't feel compelled to speak, even when being hit on. Just be receptive to the universe and breath in.”

Uh…man?…have you met me?…We all know that I could use a little Zen…I’ve even thought about taking some yoga classes…but as it turns out, you aren’t supposed to do yoga to hard-style techno music. I’m a tiny bit too intense. I could try this idea of…what did you call it?…Relaxing?…"Zen"ing into the room?…But something will likely happen and I’ll end up in charge of some sort of evacuation or someone will choke and I’ll have to do the Heimlich…something random that will pull me to the center of focus once again. Even without saying a single word, I never blend in. I’m going to try it…maybe…um…probably not! Thanks for the idea though. One day, when all of my friend’s children are in college and their husbands have left them for someone younger; hopefully we’ll catch a new set of 20-year-olds making music in a bar as they release their CD! Never let anyone say that I let a once in a lifetime opportunity pass me by!

Mocked by Hallmark…again…

I was in the drug store looking for a card for my grandmother’s birthday the other day. Usually I make my own because it seems like I always have to read cards for 3 hours until I find one that says what I’d like it to say. I glanced at one that said, “For the man I Love.”…what is this?…and who would ever give it to someone? Does anyone even know what that word means anymore? It seems like buying someone that card would make him uneasy. No man I’ve ever met has ever wanted to hear those words. My card would have to be a heck of a lot bigger so it could fit the words, “For a man that I know but like to hang out with but not too much cause I don’t want to scare him away so I guess I shouldn’t even give you this card so you don’t think that I care all that much about how you are or what you do!”…”heart”, me!

I actually have a whole series of Calia Cards! I wonder if Hallmark is hiring?

Here are a few of favorites:

Someone is lurking to read you a po-em
I keep on calling but you are not Ho-em

I thought of a time that you’d not pass me by
I turned to your girl, punched her right in the eye!

Your eyes are so pure
Your heart is so true
I’m sure there’s a cure
It’s likely the flu

Unfriendly!

I have a small issue with some people’s inability to treat people around them well when they aren’t feeling well themselves. There have been times when I’ve been annoyed about something or someone but when someone else came around, I didn’t act like I was mad at him/her. As a matter of fact, I’m annoyingly smiley all the time. What is wrong with people who just have really bad attitudes? I was walking by a colleague today and my friend and I smiled and said a zippy “HELLO!” as we passed her. She didn’t even act as though she had heard us. What the heck is wrong with her? Of course I needed to say it again,…and again…and make a tiny point out of it with my friend…cause that’s sort of the way I am- I’ll try until someone actually tries to kill me. (I suppose it’s in my overachieving nature!) Don’t get me wrong, I am fully aware that annoying a person until they punch you in the face isn’t exactly the desired result, but it’s an impulse! I’ll say, ‘Hello!…Oops…I’m sorry, I guess you didn’t hear me…HELLO!…(giggle)…(smile)…still not?…(hee hee)…Hi!…(sing songy)…He-lllooo!…hmm…I guess you have your ipod on?…oops…I suppose you didn’t know that I was talking to you!…HI!”…(giggle)…

What?…too much ya think?…Well…put yourself in my shoes: nice person, smiling, happy, wishing someone well! How would you feel if you spent all that time taking a breath and saying a kind word only to have the woman refuse to acknowledge you? Yep! Now you have it! It’s like holding the door for someone and having her not look at you and say “thank you!” You sort of want to go back and slam the door in front of her don’t you?…Now on the other hand, I don’t always expect something in return for my kindness. I guess I’m really just trying to figure out why some people simply can’t extend warmth in any direction? This is just another reason that I’m building an ark! There will be NO PROZAC on my ark! If someone is going to make me feel like I’ve done something to her, I sure as heck better have run over her pet or something…at least on my ark, I will have done it two by two - and I’m going to be well aware of it!

Exit strategy

I have so many friends who are unhappy in their relationships and searching for something better, that sometimes I wonder if there is such a thing as a “good relationship” at all. I know that my last boyfriend was apparently looking for someone else while we were together. I just didn’t know it. After being on that end of it, I would never stay with someone if I wasn’t sure about him. I would rather be alone than deceive someone into staying until I’ve found the “real”, “the one!” My friend wants to plan his exit strategy from his current relationship. He sat in silence with her last night and as he told the story, he said, “Of course we had nothing to say…cause we have nothing to say anymore…” Well…when you run out of things to talk about, is it over?…or is it just “comfortable?” This is an interesting aspect of society. Part of me wonders if the problem is simply due to the need for “newness” in our instant gratification generation. Personally, I like the comfortable stage. If I could issue the book with all the information about the past experiences that brought me up until now and then after I’ve read “his” book and cleared him of previous criminal behavior or women that he’s already said the words, “to death do us part” to, I’d love to start from there and move ahead with the comfortable stage. That way, it would remove that 2 or 3 month break-up stage (okay…in my case, 2 or 3 week break-up stage.) The strange thing about my life though, is that my breakups never “take.” Even honesty doesn’t work. I’ve tried “It’s not you, it’s me”, “I’m looking for something different and we’re in two different life stages”, “It’s not me, it’s you”, “I’m sure you’re very nice but I'm allergic to dogs”…That one is a biggie! I can’t tell you how many guys have thought that I would change on that. Um…NO! No dogs! Whenever I see a single guy (really single- not divorced with kids- a truly single guy in his 30’s) with a dog, I think, "that guy struggles with depression!" I saw a guy in the park the other day walking his dog. My heart broke for him. He looked lonely and sad. This flies in the face of the old “walk your dog in the park to pick up chicks” thing. It won’t work on this chick! The best he’ll get from me is a phone list of alcoholic’s anonymous meetings that I'll leave on a bench across the park after running the long way around so I don't have to walk near the dog. Oh well!

So how do you get out once you’re stuck with the wrong person? We already know that honesty doesn’t work. Dancing around the subject doesn’t work because someone who’s into you will try to fix the things you allude to as being the problem. Doing annoying things so that the person breaks up with you definitely doesn’t work. (Though this is my personal favorite, this actually makes me try harder for some reason!) Taking it slowly is the best bet. I suggest not labeling anything until you’ve been together for a year or so! (of course…I have found myself having to break up with people who, as far as I was concerned, I wasn’t even dating…but there are flaws in even the best laid plans. Apparently it is what it is- no matter what you call it. Simply cutting out and disappearing is NOT a valid breakup. I actually have a guy that I’m pretty sure I’m still dating after years and years…his phone is just broken or something. It must be…or else he would call and let me know that we’re not together…right?…

Ladies Night!

I will never understand how the concept of ladies night works…actually…wait! I take that back. I understand exactly how ladies night works. Women come in with the intention of getting drunk enough to have an excuse to behave badly, and men come in to take advantage of the women who are behaving badly. Okay! Got it. So…why is that exactly? hmm...I was right before- I don’t get it!... I was singing while the older ladies danced in front of my singer as they pointed to him repeatedly. Uh…maybe this is where I’ve been going wrong. I never get anywhere with the social scene in this scenario. Possibly it’s because I’m leaving out the “point” to let a guy know that my drunken self has chosen him? I went to the ladies room and two of the ladies were there. I tried to say hello and make small talk. They couldn’t speak very well. One looked over after ignoring me and said slowly, “I forgot to put mascara on.”…I looked at her and thought, as I saw her eyes rolling back in her head as she held herself up on the sink, “What you forgot was to not drink your face off. Your mascara is the least of your trouble.”… I smiled instead of vocalizing (good girl!...thanks!…I’ve been practicing!) I washed my hands as she reached into the purse next to her and pulled out the biggest pallet of eye color I’ve ever seen (other than at a makeup party…but I usually get thrown out of those for some reason…likely a story for another time!) How big was this purse? It reminded me of the scene in Mary Poppins when she pulled the coat rack out of her purse. My purses are much smaller, but I guess that’s because I don’t need room for a makeup counter and a bottle of vodka. I usually only carry a wallet and some lip-gloss. I figure there’s nothing you can’t fix with a little lip-gloss! She proceeded to paint her face like a clown. Again…I just smiled (though I’m certain that if she could’ve seen through the squints in her overly colorful eyes, she would’ve been able to read the “I’m glad I’m not you” feeling that I was likely projecting through my friendly expression!) She looked down as I started to leave and said, “Oh my God! Look at that horrible white stuff all over your feet!”…um…huh?…I looked. Darn! I fell into the drunk girl’s fantasy! She immediately said, in a sexy tone out of the corner of her drooling mouth, “Made ya look. What a crook!”…That’s right! Now we were 8 years old! Excellent! I giggled as if to say, “Oh boy! You got me! You’re so clever! (Hee hee!), then walked out the door hoping that the night would be over soon!

As the evening drew to it’s end, the two ladies from the bathroom kept targeting my 25 year old singer!…oh…there’s that finger “point” again! Classy! He turned to me and said, “Help me! They have offered to take me back to their place tonight- twice!” No boy! Just tell them that you can’t…cause it’s a school night!…that should work! I’m sure their children are around your age!

Am I misconfiguring my buffer zone?

I have been assessing my dating successes lately. It seems as though every guy I’ve ever “hung out” with has married a girl while they are hanging out with me or soon after. How can this be? It’s not like I don’t ask the right questions. Do you have a girlfriend? You would think that this would be one that wouldn’t need to be asked if a guy was asking me out but you’d be surprised! Are you married? …another question that you wouldn’t think to ask unless you have run across many guys who felt guilty enough to actually answer with the words, “Yes, but it’s been over for a long time.”…um…does she know it’s over?…Unbelievable. All I can come up with is that my buffer zone is misconfigured. It seems that while I think I’m “taking things slowly”, someone else is getting in and marrying the guy. I talked to a guy in Brazil for a few months and then the next thing I knew, he was married. I will never understand how this happens. How are all these guys marrying women that they aren’t even dating? I do tend to tread very lightly in the beginning. I hate to be called someone’s girlfriend if it isn’t in that stage. I suppose it could be the fact that I’m not pushing enough and the guy’s ego isn’t getting stroked with an unhealthy balance of jealousy and relentless pursuit? The thing about that is that this balance is very delicate. Guys love to chase a girl…but they will only chase her if they feel like they are getting somewhere. I honestly have no idea what to do. I’m truly numb to caring anymore. Why would I work myself up over someone who is probably pretending to be someone he isn’t?

I have to say that I’m really confused about this. I have always been extremely honest, and for some reason, it seems to work against me. People are uncomfortable with honest communication. I’m not sure how I should proceed. I suppose that if I need to “investigate” a guy before I date him, that’s not a great start to happily ever after. Maybe I could just have each guy who asks me out, fill out a questionnaire:

Name:____________________
Aliases (if any)___________________,___________________________
Previous/current girlfriend/wife’s phone number______________________
Education level (no- the “school of hard knocks does not count)_____________


Possibly this simple form in combination with a lie detector test will solve my troubles! I hope it will be well received. Possibly I’ll put it on the back of my business card with my phone number in binary code? That’ll be sure to weed out the truly uncreative and disinterested!

Us singers call that "a talk"

I was teaching aerobics with an older lady a few years ago who sang and played the banjo on the side. She was a mother of 3 and extremely condescending about her life stage in comparison to mine. Somehow we got into a conversation about a song. I sang a line of “Last Dance” – “beside me…to Gui-i-de me.” She said, “Us singers call that a talk.”…I replied, “US singers call you- an idiot!”

I suppose I shouldn’t have said that. We already know that when backed into a corner, I’ll always spew my way out verbally! We’re all even though…she is likely a grandmother now…and…well…us singers?…are still single!

Fall Night Air…

It was a cool fall night tonight. I opened the window and a memory hit me. That brisk night air and shine from the stars reminded me of Halloween. It was such a nostalgic feeling. I remembered spending the month figuring out what I was going to dress up as, watching my mother sewing it to look perfect (the princess costume that I wanted to wear every single year), and then getting excited to put it on as the sun went down that night after anxiously awaiting it to come…and then making it out the front door and down the steps of the house…only to collapse with an asthma attack. My father would pick me up and carry me back into the house where I’d hold myself up on a table so I could get enough air into my lungs to stop the stream of tears from pouring down my face. My sister would take my trick-or-treat bag with her and say to each neighbor, “Could I get some candy for my sister too? She’s sick.”…I bet they think to this day that there was really only one of us and that she was making it all up. She was a little bit deviant! (I’d be worried that she is reading this and getting offended by that statement if I didn’t just get off the phone with her from talking her through how to drag and drop a file from her desk top to her c: drive…) I stood inside the house in my costume all night, usually in the bathroom where the shower was running so the steam would open my airways enough to not have to go to the hospital. This went on year after year. The weather would change to fall air and I’d stop breathing. Isn’t it strange that the night air doesn’t trigger that as a “bad” memory? I actually think it’s kind of a warm feeling now. I love the fall now. I still have a little issue with breathing from time to time if someone brings a dog around me or wears clothes with horsehair on them, but there is something so touching about the fall. Maybe it was nice to be the only child left in the house for a few hours that night each year? I probably shouldn’t have eaten the candy collected that night. Anyone who would sit and eat a bag of chocolate would likely have an asthma attack- allergic or not! It is a food group, that as it turns out, is nowhere on the food pyramid. (I have a friend who would likely fight me on this point. I actually think she has replaced the vegetable category on the pyramid with chocolate. Oh well…it hasn’t done her any harm. She still has a nice figure and from the looks of it, her teeth haven’t rotted out of her head yet! Go chocolate!)

I replaced wheezing with fitness when I was 19 years old. I would never leave the house without a work out. It has completely controlled my asthma and is part of my morning routine. I had a boyfriend for many years that hated the fact that I would jump up at 5am and workout every single day. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why it made him so mad? Now that I look back, he didn’t like me at all so I suppose it must not have been the working out. He wouldn’t let me wear shoes in the car cause he was afraid I’d get the car mats dirty. Oh well!…That’s actually a good habit to get into! I don’t take it to that extreme anymore but I do have 2 sets of floor mats so I can quickly change out the dirty ones for neatly armor-alled ones. My mother got annoyed at me one time because she was sitting in the back seat, and every time I would take a turn, she’d slide from one side of the car to the other. The first time it was funny when she accused me of armoralling the leather seats…but after the 5th or 6th time, it was just sort of mockery that she apparently weighs much less than I do and is 5’8”. Of course, if you ask me, there’s got to be a way to keep yourself from slamming with full force into the back door on the opposite side from where you were sitting every time there’s a curve in the road. What do I know though? As for the boyfriend…is it petty that I sort of hope he wonders from time to time where that $3 candle holder that I took from our house went…

Anyway…I think I’m going to go for a hike in the woods tomorrow. I love the fall now…

Talk Like a Pirate Day?

What the?…Now I’m as fun as the next guy…I mean girl, but what the heck? Are people so stressed that they need to invent more days to act like idiots? I have found that in general, everyday is “act like an idiot” day. As a matter of fact, I have the talk like a pirate pointers here that I have used as a guideline to write my new holiday’s rules:

Act like a Pirate day Guideline:

• Growl - and scowl often. Pirates don't use a cultured, elegant, smooth vocalization - they mutter and growl.

Act Like an Idiot day rule:

• Try to pick up a girl in a bar by saying, “I’m wondering what my pants would look like on my bedroom floor.”

Act like a Pirate day Guideline:

• Use pirate lingo. Sounding like a pirate isn't as hard as it seems! There are lots of resources for picking up pirate "lingo," so make use of them in addition to trying to affect a vocal sound. Avoid using modern epithets (swear words). It's much more colorful (and kid-friendly) to use "pirate slang" for those naughty words.

Act Like an Idiot day rule:

• Use slang in the middle of your words as often as possible. Ie: Abso-frickin’-lutely… (girls think this is HOT and are enamored by your ability to gracefully slide in and out of class! It’s like a modern day pig-latin!)

Act like a Pirate day Guideline:

• Gesture with your hands frequently. Don't forget that pirates do most of their talking on the deck of a ship - out on the ocean, where wind, waves, and bird calls make it tough to hear. Gesturing often gives you a sense of "being there."

Act Like an Idiot day rule:

• When a girl says she isn’t interested in you, try flipping her off from across the room as often as possible. She will likely want you more! We are very impressed by anger and rage! YUM!

Act like a Pirate day Guideline:

• Run words together. Saying, "The boys and I were out for a lovely day on the water today" sounds like something you'd overhear at a yacht club, not out on the bounding main! Instead, try, "Me'n'these here scurvy scallywags drug our sorry keesters out t'th'ship'n'had us a grand great adventuaaarrr! We almost had t'keelhaul Mad Connie f'r gettin inter th' grog behind our backs!" Use contractions whenever possible. Be sure to punctuate often with "Arrrr!"

Act Like an Idiot day rule:

• Get drunk enough so that you slur your speech! Women love it when guys walk up to them and point in their face as they say, “I…think you are…rea…lly…pre….tt..y and my friend…told me… that you are easy!”

Act like a Pirate day Guideline:

• Never use "you" or "you're" - ever. Instead, use the piratical form, "yer" or "ya" for all forms of address to others. "Yer a scurvy bilge rat, ya pompous gasbag" or "Here's yer dinner, ya mangy cockroach." Note that you should always endeavor to call the addressee by some insulting name, usually involving an animal.

Act Like an Idiot day rule:

• Never use “you” or “you’re”…Women are especially attracted to men who will say, “Yer a scurvy bilge rat, ya pompous gasbag!” (oops…it looks as though I’ve overlapped my holiday with theirs! Sorry!…I guess that means that if you are celebrating act like a pirate day, you probably shouldn’t ask me out.)

Maybe I’ll start marketing a holiday called, “Treat people with respect day!” Hopefully that one day a year can be a day when all of us (both men and women) who complain that there is no one out there to date, will meet someone great and fall for them before we realize that it was all an act!

Wanted: A Salsa Partner

There is something so beautiful about men who can “move”. I suppose it could just be my “type”, but it seems as though men from other countries are less stuck in their inability to feel free or creative. I never like those puffy looking football player/gym guy types who parade around with their arms so muscular that they can’t rest them at their sides. I see guys like that all the time at the gym. They all look “fat” to me. Latino and Italian men have less of that, “I’m afraid to not look manly. Here, give me a beer can so I can smash it on my forehead….RRRRaaarrr”, look. I don’t think that there are words enough to describe how unattracted to that I am. (Note: I may need to delete this one day if I meet some nice computer programmer type guy who just happens to be a body builder. I suppose that if he was smart enough, I would probably be able to get over the initial lack of physical appeal…I had a friend who wanted me to meet her fiancé a few years ago, and before I did, she said, “When you see him, you will think he’s ugly but he is really nice to me so don’t be surprised.”…um…that didn’t sound right to me. I think that if I was at the point of getting engaged to someone, I would’ve forgotten by then that I was embarrassed to be seen with him because I thought he was bad looking. The funny thing is that when I did meet him, I thought he was good looking. Maybe she liked fat gym guys?…oh well! To each his own!)

I just know that there is someone out there who is uninhibited and culturally well rounded enough to be able to move his hips to the beat. I always laugh when I see big, burly guys wearing suits at weddings, who are “too cool” to dance. Not only that, they are always the lower class ones who drink too much, their shirts come un-tucked and they inevitably have their tie tied around their head or are dancing with their table number. This is NEVER cool. It’s not funny. It’s not cute. It screams, “I’m an insecure jock and I haven’t understood the meaning of any movie other than the American Pie series”. Well…I guess I am a little bit particular in this area. The funny thing is that those are the guys who are single at my age. I wonder if they are making the connection?…of course…I am single too and I would never grunt at a television, hunt, fish, mow my lawn...etc… I guess I’m just not a “guy’s guy, kind of girl!” A friend of mine asked me the other day if the guy I date “needs to be taller than me”? uh…I’m 5’3” dude! Who exactly are you trying to fix me up with? Michael J. Fox?

Whatever…I suppose that for now I will continue my quest for someone I’m attracted to who may want to dance a salsa or two with me. In the meantime, I’ll just keep my salsa around for my chips!

We Delivery

I went to get Chinese food the other day. I couldn’t help but notice that all of the business cards and the sign in the window had their new slogan, “We Delivery.”…um…people?…What printer did these people go to who would say, “We delivery? Okay. Sounds right to me! That’ll be $500 dollar.” Come on! Possibly we should have a little more compassion for minorities?...or at the very least, make a rule that we won't screw over people who make tasty food.

America is quite a melting pot of political incorrectness: One of my friends is having a baby. She is an African American woman and when she went to the Doctor the other day, they gave her a book about what to expect while she’s pregnant. She flipped to the back and said, “look! It even gives you menu ideas.” I looked as she flipped through…Across the top of the page of the Southern Fried Chicken recipe, it said, “African-American food.” The next page was a recipe for Arroz con Pollo…across the top of that page it said, “Latino.” The last recipe was for vegetable fried rice with the caption, “Asian.”…She said that she looked at the nurse and then at a white girl who was carrying the same book and asked, “What is she supposed to eat?”

I’m embarrassed to be a "cream colored person" in this world sometimes! It’s so hard to break free of stereotypes! Luckily I have my own category: Thirty Something Single Girl!- Notes on what to eat: Only eat on Saturdays between the hours of 5-7pm. It’s the best way to maintain your figure and you can eat whatever you want- as long as it’s only during those two hours a week! That way you aren’t restricting yourself and you can really enjoy life!

Your medication is really working!

Oops…it used to be that I could make a joke about medication and people would laugh with me. Well!…not anymore. This morning I was walking by a colleague as a huge pile of paper she was working with blew off the table and fell to the floor. I stifled a giggle as hundreds of pages moved, in slow motion, like snowflakes dancing in a snowstorm. She looked down and laughed as she said, “See? I just let it go. I don’t even worry about it!” I replied, “Wow! Your new medication is really working!”…DEAD SILENCE. Oh boy…It think that we may be overmedicating ourselves anymore! You take caffeine to wake up, Prozac so things that should bother you don’t, sleeping pills to sleep, Ritalin to stay focused…and the list goes on and on! We need to detox all the drugs and start fresh. I bet our bodies would have their own coping mechanisms if we stopped polluting them with products that shut down their function!

I just heard that Ambien is causing weight gain because people are sleep walking to the kitchen, eating and then going back to bed. They apparently wake up with chicken bones and potato chip bags in their beds with them in the morning. That is positively ridiculous! I never leave my chicken bones and potato chip bags in my bed! I always make sure to wash the dishes and take out the garbage in case someone finds my body in the morning. I would hate the reports to read, “Girl found in apparent cheese coma- Dishes piled up in sink licked clean from lasagna, pizza, macaroni and cheese, cheese sticks, and stuffed tater skins. The garbage can had empty pizza boxes and a cheese cake box with one small piece of the crust left over inside.” Note to self: no Ambien for me!

Dreary Day…

I love the weather. All weather! I have this weird thing about extremes. I seem to have a passion for huge rainstorms …blizzards…extreme heat…etc… I drove down the street early this morning and there was something peaceful about the windshield washers clicking out of time with my techno as I passed women standing with their children at their bus stops wearing their bathrobes. It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly. I sort of imagined standing there myself, delighting in knowing that as soon as the kids were off, I’d be able to sit down in peace for a few minutes or crawl back into bed and listen to the rain…um…wait a second…Where the heck would I get that memory from? Is my brain completely lost in fantasy?…I wonder if I had a previous life in which I did some of these things that I relate to with such nostalgia?? I pondered the thought. Maybe these memories were just a new version of my attention deficit hallucinations?…or do I have kids somewhere who are wondering where the heck I am? Now that would be cool! I would love for a child to come find me and tell me my life’s story and that I am her mother. (I don’t think that would be possible though…I would remember having a baby right?…I guess that would be a more credible scenario for a man!)

The rain got heavier and the clouds grew darker and darker…I loved this sort of energy in the air! I knew that someone was somewhere complaining about “the darn rain”, but not me. My hair never really looked good and I didn’t really care if it poured all day. People were running from place to place so they didn’t get wet. Now that I think about it, I did have one day when I was a little worried about that myself, but it was because I was wearing a designer dress that clearly said, “Dry clean only. Do not get wet.” I didn’t have another dress in the car and I wasn’t sure what the results of getting it wet would be? Was it like a mattress tag that just sort of mocks me with a threat but can’t really produce the mattress police upon cutting?…or would it dissolve completely? It was a valid concern. Maybe all these running people were wearing Versace today? Tricky of him really! That’s like me writing a song that when people listened to it when they were in a bad mood, it would simply dissolve into static! Come to think of it…possibly Versace would’ve had some ideas for the music industry’s struggle with limewire and file sharing?…darn…t0o bad he’s dead!

Long story longer…I have half a mind to dunk that dress in some water and check…better yet, maybe I should just borrow someone’s kids one morning and stand in a rainstorm in it at the bus stop. That’ll be really entertaining for the next girl who drives by in her Volvo having an attention deficit hallucination about the day that she stood at the bus stop in the rain in a $1200 dress.

You look like you’re hung over?

I have a feeling that we’ve gone to far when it comes to acting too familiar with the people around us in order to make small talk. I walked into work today and wasn’t feeling very well. I have had a cold and it was rainy and dark outside. Don’t get me wrong…I usually LOVE “rainy and dark”…as a matter of fact, I did have a great candlelight workout this morning. I was feeling pretty energetic and happy after it! But then the first thing out of a colleague’s mouth was, “Wow! You look like you’re hung over.”…um…geez…thank you! Just when I was feeling a little overtired and worn out, you are here to make me feel better- by telling me that I look “hung over?” What do people expect to gain from this? I suppose he thought I would say something like, “Thank you! I appreciate that you noticed! I put vodka on my bowl of popcorn last night thinking it would make a great topping.”…or maybe, “Gee! You are always so supportive of me. We should definitely spend more time with each other…these 8 hours during the day just isn’t enough for me to hear about how bad I look!”, or …the one I actually said, “Look. You have red hair and your girlfriend’s family doesn’t like you and eventually she’s gonna rip your heart out! Good luck with that!”…oops…there I go again. Why can’t I stop that mouth thing of mine? It’s as though my brain is missing the “stop talking” flap and the response comes out as if someone else is saying it. I’m lucky that it only happens after people insult me…but, I suppose I could take the high road and allow someone the upper hand in the insult department once in awhile. Maybe I could try to count to 5 slowly after people talk in order to process what may be misconstrued as an inappropriate response?…probably not though. It would likely just give me time to work up something even more creative. Idle time in my head is the devil’s playground!

Oh well…its still dark and rainy outside but I’m feeling a little bit better. I wonder if I still look bad? Hmm…I hope not. My “friend” might come back later to remind me that I just tucked my skirt into my underwear….come to think of it…I just may do that on purpose. If people are going to take cheap shots, I’d rather hand them the data!

Slim pickins’

It seems as though the singles market is really slowing down. I’m wondering if it’s due to the rising interest rates and the economic slump. I’ve been told that I’m going to have to loosen up my restrictions if I don’t want to be alone. Ok!…so let me get this straight…are you saying that I should go out with your husbands (cause for some reason, married guys seem to be looking for that sort of freedom that I represent)? It doesn’t seem like a great plan from this end actually. But you must know…since you were able to get that “perfect guy” and marry him! The funny thing is that everyone who is single can be heard saying, “there are no single people.”…hmm…so why are both men and women replaying this mantra? I know that I like younger guys! Guys tend to like younger girls. Oh…that can’t be good. I like guys who are smarter than me. Single guys that I meet, like girls who aren’t as smart as them! Excellent! Now we’re talking…finally we’re speaking the same language!…except the truly smart guys seem to already be married with children and in order to impress some of the single guys who like to be smarter than their girlfriends, I’d actually have to wear my shoes on the wrong feet. Well then…I guess that leaves white-collar criminals. I have to admit that they are very smart…other than the getting caught part…but then again, if they’ve already been caught, it will prevent a Madoff scandal for my children one day. Maybe I could get a pen pal in prison or something? Oh well…I suppose there’s something to be said for not settling for the next best thing and knowing that someone who is looking for someone exactly like you is on his way. Possibly he’s been in a coma or something? …or possibly working for Bill Gates programming internet worms! (HOT!)…I hope he wakes up or takes a break soon. I’d hate to waste all this exercise I’ve done for the last 20 years by meeting him when I’m old!

Status: Writing this status…

I’m starting to wonder about people’s fixation with telling their every move in real-time. When I first started using social networking sites, I thought it would be a great way to keep in touch with friends from my past with a quick hello here and there. I loved the fact that all those people from my college days were available at the click of my mouse…then things started changing…people started writing things like:

• Baking cookies right now
• Going to clean my toilet
• Taking out the garbage
• Going to learn how to wipe myself
• Writing this status
• Just finished writing my status…

It has truly gotten out of control. How can any of these people actually be doing these things if they are taking the time to write instead? I suppose it’s just me though. I have never liked people knowing where I am and what I’m up to. Don’t people just like to go missing once in awhile? The status updates are cute, but why do we need to know so much about each other’s daily mundane tasks?

• Calia is washing her hair right now…(bubble, bubble, suds…is the computer in the shower?)
• Calia is drying her hair right now…(she is using a hands free hairdryer hat of course)
• Calia is getting dressed…(wait…has she been writing without clothes on? Thank God her webcam isn’t hooked up! There are some things that we just don’t need to share!)

Am I dressing too young for my age?

I saw a lady last night that was clearly wearing her granddaughter’s clothes. Don’t get me wrong- it was a great outfit, but she probably shouldn’t have been wearing it. I worried that I do the same thing. I always focus on staying in shape and keeping my body looking a certain way…but- just because you can wear something, probably doesn’t mean you should. I suppose it bothered me that young guys were picking on her by dancing with her because I worried that one day people would be mocking me like that too? I felt so bad for her. I don’t think she knew that they were picking on her. I think she probably really thought that they thought she was hot. She probably was “hot” 30 years ago. There is something to be said for aging gracefully. You get married, have kids, dress appropriately, maintain class and stature and dress according to your social demographic. Easy right?…well…what if you skip a whole stage? Mine is “get married, have kids…” I have a feeling that this lady must’ve missed that one too…she probably still thinks that her demographic is “meet someone, get married, have kids, dress hot.” But what about the fact that she should be in the stage of playing with her grandchildren? The whole dressing cycle has been thrown off! Oh geez…I suppose what they say is right! What bothers you about other people is likely a fear of your own. I’m wondering if I’m going to be that 65-year-old woman with no children, a hot body, a wrinkled face, in a teenager’s pants! HELP! Maybe there should be an island somewhere for us so we don’t make fools of ourselves! It could be full of nothing but Junior’s boutiques and fitness centers…

Express line!

I was standing in line at the grocery store the other day, behind a lady who apparently didn’t know that she was going to have to pay for her groceries. Why do people do this? I never understand why people don’t have their money out when they get up to the cashier.…better yet…a check book?…Who the heck carries a checkbook anymore? I hardly even use checks to pay my bills. In fact, I have no idea how much stamps are. (which I guess might be one of the reasons that the United States Postal Service is nearly bankrupt…but what government run business isn’t. oops…I’m supposed to lay off those topics…after the “incident!”) I had a book of “forever stamps” and they ran out. What’s up with that? How could something that’s supposed to last forever, run out? It’s false advertising if you ask me!

So…the grocery store checkout…I looked at the guy behind me and smiled and said “I didn’t think this would be quite so difficult today.” He looked at my items on the counter and said, “Well. Yeah. Maybe if people didn’t come through the express line with so many items it would be easier!”…I looked at my items…and then up at the sign- 10 items or less! I looked back at my items…counted them…13, 14, 15…oops…I had made sure not to go in the other line cause it said “express” so I had gone into this one. I didn’t think it was express. The guy wouldn’t smile at me. He was very angry. I wasn’t even up to the cashier yet but I was next. I had just ruined his day. He clearly needed to get home and drink his big bottle of beer. I tried to apologize. I even bagged my own groceries. I hadn’t meant to be “one of those people!”… “I’m sorry sir. I’m so sorry! Please! Take my first born!” (hee hee…the joke was on him on that one cause clearly my first born was likely to have 3 heads and 17 fingers!)…there was nothing I could do to apologize to him. I was wondering if maybe I should buy the first round for him?…alas, I couldn’t get him to smile. I am very sad now cause I don’t think he and I are going to be friends…

Horizontal Stripes?

I was singing last night and couldn’t help but notice an entire table of people wearing shirts with horizontal stripes on them. Well…actually…I almost didn’t notice them due to the fact that the scenery behind them seemed to have a similar motif and the jingle, “Ask Sherwin Williams” rang in my head. I guess I’m not sure what I was meant to get out of this moment. I searched for the meaning…(I always try to capture the meaning in every moment in order to not waste a perfectly good thought.) …um…hmm…nope…no meaning…Was I that bored? What was the “Horizontal Table” meant to show me? (Then again, if it was a vertical table, you really couldn’t eat at it without the food falling off… Inventors are so smart! I wonder if they tried it the other way first? I can see the cavemen now: “Honey, grunt, grunt, Where’s my dinner? I want my dinner on the table now!”…Caveman’s wife: “Here you go dear”…she sets the bat soup in the bowl on the vertical table in front of him. Jumping up and down screaming from the hot soup in his lap, a thought comes to his head… “This table should be turned on its side!”…so the “table”, as we know it, was born!)…My head was spinning. Was I meant to invent something?…or maybe I should just be singing this song?…What the heck am I singing? I looked down at my lyric cheat sheets…didn’t recognize it…go blank, go blank, go blank! (usually that worked if I was singing a song that I’ve sung for years and years…they were on autopilot now!) I looked at my other singer’s lyric stand. “Untitled?”…did he really label every single song with the title, “Untitled”?…um…that doesn’t seem like the most efficient filing system to me! Okay man…but don’t expect me to find your lyrics for you if you’re ever lost!

Anyway…apparently I finished that song with no problem cause the next song had already started. Back to the meaning of the horizontal stripes…I knew that I probably didn’t have the body type to wear them myself…but then again, from the different shapes and sizes of the people at this table, possibly I was being too hard on myself. Oh! I know! That’s it!…I am meant to see that no one cares what people wear and I am likely the only one who stands in front of the mirror criticizing my outfit and body type at every different lighting ankle. Clearly many of these people didn’t even have a mirror. I guess I need to forget it myself. I have been enlightened again! Note to self: don’t wear horizontal stripes…oops…I mean…wear whatever you want…cause no one cares!

Clutter

I walked by a friend’s office today and was concerned that something had happened to her. At first I was afraid that she had been abducted but then I saw her standing in the far corner and politely asked, “Did you decorate this place like this, or did an office supply store explode?”…I can never understand how people can function with their things piled up all over perfectly good surfaces. One time I had cleared a friend’s desk for her thinking that all those piles of things were likely making her nervous and flustered. As it turned out, they were only affecting me that way. She appeared to be more nervous and flustered once she saw the clear desk with the bookends and slots next to it with all of her things standing neatly in it. Strange. I thought it looked a lot better that way. Possibly it’s just me? I don’t even save email. I find a cluttered email box extremely upsetting. She’ll keep 400 emails in her inbox at a time. I don’t know how she could ever sleep! Oh well…to each his own. I’ll just make sure that no one piles anything up in my house and we’ll all live happily ever after!

It’s all in the undergarment!

I’m a firm believer in smooth clothing lines! Have you ever seen someone wearing a beautiful dress and then, while you admiring it, your eye gets caught on a panty line or bra strap? Oh! I always think, “So close!” …I found this great “undersuit” (I suppose that’s what I will call it). I have all sorts of dresses that seem to require a lack of undergarments in order to look right. Not easy I’ll tell you! I would never wear one of those girdle things that squeezes any ounce of extra skin you may have to the top, as though you were a tube of toothpaste. I was so excited when I found this great shorts “undersuit” that wasn’t for control and fit perfectly underneath and went all the way to up to the chest. It looked flawless! At last I’ve found the answer!…NOT!…All was well and good until the elastic at the top started to feel like it was stabbing me in the heart! OMG! How tight does thing have to be in order to stay up? My lungs were squeezed so tight that I couldn’t take a breath to sing! I looked out into the crowd and saw a girl with a spaghetti strap dress and a full triangle bra underneath…and around…and above…well! She may have well blackened out a few teeth with spinach in my book! It would’ve completed the classless attempt at dressing up.

What’s the moral of this story?…um…I don’t know…hmm…Hide your bra straps?…uh…Singers shouldn’t wear tight elastic around their lungs?…no…hmm…Spinach tastes good but you should always check a mirror after eating it?…I suppose we should just continue our quest for that seamless look that plays tricks on everyone! Is she wearing underwear? Yep! You just can’t see it because it’s tucked into her shoe.

Somebody has a bad attitude!

Just when I think that people can’t get crazier, someone always comes along to throw his hand up in the air and yell, “Oh! Oh! I’m crazy! Pick me!”…I’m starting to think that facebook is a tiny bit dangerous sometimes. I know…keep your site private and don’t talk to strangers!…Okay Mom! But I hate to be rude. As it turns out, rude apparently is better. A stranger saw my picture on his friend’s site and emailed me to ask to be my friend. What harm could it do right? He was a friend of a friend. He proceeded to tell me that I looked like what he imagined the girl he would date would look like. That was nice. I appreciated the fact that he thought I was pretty. I saw in his Facebook profile that he had children and a dog. Now…I have to admit that I have very specific criteria in this area but I can’t afford to bend on them. I breathe like Felix Unger from the odd couple when I get near dogs. Let me tell you that there is nothing hotter than a blonde girl with puffy eyes and snot running down her face as she holds herself up on a table while she waits for the ambulance to arrive…I replied, “Thank you for your interest but your profile says that you have children and a dog and I’m allergic to dogs and I want my own children one day. I’m sure you’re very nice, but I’m not interested. ”…enough right? Kind, honest, to the point, not mean, simple, gone, right?…WRONG! He responded telling me that he used to be as “selfish” as I am and I was going to miss out on something great because his wife had a daughter from a previous marriage before him and he loves her dearly. That’s nice! But his wife cheated on him and left him and took his kids with her too?…Not a good argument to make his point with me, but sometimes stringing together random words for lack of a better idea, is better than saying nothing. The thing was that he didn’t get where I was coming from. I wasn’t being selfish. I was putting his children first. I want to have my own children and I don’t want to do that with someone whose own children are only allowed to see him on Wednesdays and every other weekend! If I was one of those children, I’d be very hurt if all of a sudden my Daddy was raising someone else’s baby while I was shuffled off to another bedroom in my mother’s house and living out of a suitcase. It hurts me to think of those kids. I just can’t do that to them!…okay…so possibly it was too much of an explanation, but I felt that he had tried and deserved the real reason for me not getting involved. Done, right?…WRONG AGAIN! He wrote a nice email saying that we were very similar and he understood where I was and hoped we remain friends. A couple days later, I received this email:

"Stinks ,you deleted me.I was nice to you even when you were egotistical ,and arrogant.You are pretty ,but just regular ,obviously you have huge chip on your shoulder .You are not as great as you think you are Your band should be embarrassed to be affilliated with such an ass I hope my kids never meet you ,your values ,are off the wall.I have known better people ,that were retarded.They would be more pleasant to be around than you.Get off your "High Horse" ,you sing in a gay band ,and on a scale from 1- 10 .5 at best.."

Um…dude?…(I don’t think I had even deleted him. I had deleted another guy who was sort of “God Stalking” me after weighing the prayer connection against the possibility of him coming across the country and killing me (judging from some of his correspondence). I didn’t delete this guy though.) Do you think that he still wants to be with me? Boy! He’s classy, extremely kind, and intelligent (punctuation man!)…He couldn’t even come up with anything good to attack me with? He had to stoop to the old “retarded person”?…um…My brother has Down’s Syndrome…and he’s right! That kid is quite pleasant to be around. Unfortunately for “Crazy angry guy with chip on shoulder”, my brother, also, would not like to spend any time with him! Thanks for trying so hard though! That was a really nice email!

If I turn up dead, I want you to be able to draw this guy…

The weirdest thing happened in the grocery store today. It seems that I have been running into all different types of people in the grocery store lately. I don’t know what the meaning behind it is, but clearly I’m spending too much time at the store. It is possible that I need to get myself a life. I actually looked for one but there was no hanging sign over any of the aisles that said, “Pickles, crackers, Husband, Children…”…Oh well…I was standing near the overflowing lines at the checkout and there was a man standing in between 2 of them. I sort of wanted to just go into one and wait there myself but I wasn’t quite sure what to do since he was using both of them. I didn’t want to budge! He instantly told me that I had a great smile. I wasn’t quite sure how he could see my smile since his eyes were blood shot and from the smell of him, he had been drinking extensively. He asked me my name and how old I was. I actually answered. I wasn’t quick enough to be rude this time. This is very foreign to me. Usually being witty and rude is my specialty, but this time, I had nothing but the truth to tell. I’m sure this will prove to be a bad decision. Strangely enough, talking seems to always get me into trouble. Note to self: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!…nope…I was stinkin’ charming and kind. He showed me his tattoo and told me his daughter worked at the same place that I do. I said, “Really? What’s her name?” He said, “Sue…something. I don’t know her last name.” Apparently they are very close. He asked me my last name. I told him that I didn’t have one cause I haven’t gotten married yet. I think he was drunk enough to accept that answer…then the thought of a new age ran through my head. Purging everyone’s last names seemed like a brilliant idea to me. It does seem that no one has any identity anymore with all the hyphens from marriage after marriage. I clearly had tuned him out. I think he was talking about trees or something. We definitely had a lot in common…I mean…I have a tree near my house…After what seemed like 45 minutes (though it was probably more like 10), he was done paying and it was my turn…oh crap…he was bagging my groceries now. That was actually nice of him but I thought he should run along. He told me that he was going to walk me to my car too. EXCELLENT! I picked up my bags as we walked out of the store next to each other and I turned to the managers and said, “If I turn up dead, I want you to be able to draw this guy.” They smiled and looked at him. Drawing him shouldn’t be hard. He told me that he was harmless and that he was an inventor. He had invented toilet seats for women that when women stood up after going to the bathroom, it showed the amount, in pounds, that they had just lost…um…OMG!…I can’t make this stuff up you know! He told me he also invented a watch that tells how long you had to live….DING DING DING DING! There it was. Daddy do something! HELP!…But he wasn’t dangerous after all. He walked towards his truck and wished me a “long, prosperous life.”…I walked to my Black Saturn and fumbled for my keys and smiled back at him and waved. He drove away and I found my keys…to my Volvo, which was a few rows over in the parking lot. The little old lady who owned the Saturn came up to her car. I giggled… “oops…wrong car!”…