Today I had a conversation with two of my dearest friends at work, Mary and Susan. Mary is in her 40s and was a single mom for about 15 years. Her daughter is grown and she lives with her boyfriend. I tell her I have a date, she often says, "Oh Khaki, I'm so sorry." She gets it and everytime I've come in saying, "You're not going to believe this.." She tells me a parallel story. Susan on the other hand is 53 years old, widowed and is that lovable crazy cat lady. She cracks me up. As soon as I set my stuff down in the mornings, I can't wait to talk to Susan.
The conversation went like this:
Susan A: So, when is your next date?
Mary: You have a date?
Khaki: Did either of you watch the Bachelor last night?
Susan A: She's avoiding.
Mary: No, did you?
Khaki Yes, I watch that crap. It's funny. Its like the Travel Channel meets General Hospital. I love it. Do you know how many places I've added to my bucket list because of that show?
Susan A: Ugh, why?
Mary: OMG, Khaki, we have to get you on that show!!!! You would be so much fun. I would totally watch it if you were on that show.
Khaki: (scrunched up nose face) Riiiigghhhtt, I can see it now...Khaki in her purple miraclesuit with her board shorts and Nike baseball cap doing cannon balls while all the bikini clad bimbos squeal like pigs because I got their hair wet all competing for some entreprenuer that works out 5x a week and looks like Clark Kent. Ummm, no. Thanks though. Or maybe I should be offended you would even say that. I'm hoping to find someone someday but I'm not exactly in a hurry. Wait, is this before or after the network pays for my plastic surgery?
Susan and Mary: (laughing)
Mary: See, you would be great. You have the BEST personality and you are so pretty. I don't think I'd have the problems I did dating if I had had your personality. I don't get it, Khaki.
All too often I'm amidst great company of people that think I'm wonderful. I'm not sure that's exactly it. I mean, I'm a work in progress. I have my flaws. I'm well aware. The reason for alleged greatness is because I'm always aspiring to be more. More giving, more compassionate, more this, more that. I have motivation to succeed and am always learning. Insatiable? No. Salivating for more? Always.
The above intro was actually a blog I wrote many many months ago. I never posted it. I'm not sure why. I just didn't. In posting this new blog I was reading all of my unposted ones. Now, let me ADD to it as it sort of goes with what's on my mind now, almost a year later. Lately though, I've had this "If I'm so great then why can't/don't...."
My match.com update: CANCELLED. I cancelled it after 1700+ views to my profile, over 90 emails, I forget how many winks, and 10 likes to some photos I had on there. I even cancelled with 30 UNREAD emails. Why, you ask? Well, originally it was because I had met someone that caught my attention. This gentleman was just that....a gentleman. He was a bit reserved, divorced, father of 2 boys (same ages as mine +/-), introverted but funny, he seemed to have gotten my humor, very handsome, simple country boy, sweet natured, good hearted guy. We engaged in emails via the match.com site and then we moved to personal email accounts, then texts, phone, to meeting in person. I met him on June 11th for dinner. And without all the details of the cute dates or past few months, I will just say that we have a TON of inside jokes. I was really liking this guy. I considered even labeling it (if he had ever asked, that is). I know, shocker, right? I haven't had a "boyfriend" since March of 2010. I wanted everyone to know about him. I was excited and giddy. I was smiling stupid. I was constantly looking at my phone to see if he had text. When he did, I'd get a pang of butterflies. It was weird. It was nice. It was exciting. And now, its just friggin ridiculous. I'll spare you all the cutsy details of our inside jokes and our first kiss and conversations and dinners....and long walks on the beach. Ok, just kidding, no long walks on the beach. But still, I'll spare you because I'm pissed off. I'm confused, hurt, angry and just mad. I could feel some distance between us last weekend so I asked about it. His response was one that I was not prepared for. He basically said he couldn't handle the distance between us. That it wasn't me, I was great. (insert eye roll) I had it all. He just wants to be near me more and he knows that isn't possible. He can't go further with these feelings only for there to be greater hurt down the road. There are things about me that on paper would generally turn him off abuout women but some things I do or say that normally would bug him, don't. Example: cussing. (oops, my bad, insert work in progress) At any rate, explain to me how you can be on an online dating website or two or however many he was on trying to date and you open your search radius to 300 miles and when you do find someone fanfreakintastic that is smart, funny, pretty, outgoing, successful, an amazing mother, and then some....you say that 227 miles is too much? ESPECIALLY given YOU were the one that opened up the search radius, contacted ME first, and has even done long distance before. REALLY?!?!?!!? Who does that? Anyway, after a long email (too long and yes, Braden was right, I should've never sent the dang thing) and a few conversations on the phone, I feel foolish. I want to go back into my cave and relish in the fact that I am a proud single mother raising 3 young boys to be great men and will do so without love in my life. Love, is an exaggeration. I tend to do that sometimes. Oh look, there was an inside joke that me and Mr. 227 Miles had. Only as I type it, I'm not laughing. This happened last weekend and I've spent the majority of the week just ill. Like in the core of my gut, upset and in knots. I don't know why really. There are plenty of guys that want to date me. Part of me wants to go into nuture mode and teach him that its okay to like a chick. It's okay to have these "new" feelings and to roll with it. Part of me wants to just walk away and never see him again and hope that he wishes he hadn't done this.
I'm just bleh. My anger isn't entirely at Mr. 227 Miles. Its at me. Why was I on match.com again? What was I thinking? Why did I think this time or this guy would be different? Damnit, Khaki. Even at the fabulous birthday party I threw for Kyan this weekend, amidst all that excitement and fun...I would stop and have brief seconds of sadness, remembering my current relational state...or lack thereof. I told my friends of the situation and every single one of them said it was bizarre. That it didn't make sense and to walk away gracefully (my words, not theirs). And I'm really trying to. I get it that they're my friends and of course, would side with me but I really feel that some of them would shoot straight and tell me if it were me. David, Jen, Dana, Diane, Carly, Mandy, Misty, Jeri, Missy...all of them say the same thing. "WTF is wrong with that guy?"
Funny, today Diane took my kids away for a few hours to Jumpstreet. I didn't realize how much I needed a break from them until they were gone and the house was quiet. I wanted to collapse on the couch and nap, honestly. I didn't. I cleaned and did homework but I wanted to. I turned off all TVs and just sat in silence. I made a plate of turkey, crackers, and cheese and sat staring out the back door into the backyard watching the birds and squirrels and prayed. I'm not one to share my relationship with God but here's kind of how it went: "Okay, so you know what's on my heart and in my head. I'm confused and angry and sad. Am I staring at a closed door? Is another open that I'm unaware of? Is it just not my time? Did I do something wrong? Was I too upfront with who I am? Was I not enough of something? Is this a teaching opportunity to show him how to love again? (love being used loosley, mind you) What's the lesson for me here? Guide me on this because I need insight on this one...."
And you know, I'm quite impressed with Braden these days. Most days I think he's an ass but appreciate the laughter. I'll be the first to tell you that I'm more of a best friend to him than he is to me but he has called me every single day and with that genuine care and concern, checks up on me. In fact, just before dinner tonight he called to "check the status of the no call/no text Mr. 227 Miles project" which I am passing with flying colors. Yay me. :-/ 51 hours and it has NOT been easy. Tonight while taking my stats midterm, on the cover of my textbook what do I see? Wind turbines. What's Mr. 227 Miles' job....has to do with wind turbines. Why is he everywhere? We were only talking for a few months. We just kissed a handful of times. Why am I so ill over this? Stupid Khaki.
I'm off to bed....knowing deep down I can control my happiness and that it is a choice and that I am great. I will find someone when I'm supposed to and while it will require work...it'll be a no-brainer. Someone somewhere will think I'm equally great.
Ciao.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Bitchology 101
I don't even know where to start. First let me vent about my day and then I'll get to the juicy stuff.
So, I take Ky and Kasyn in for their fillings today. I let Kam skip school too. I've got a boy in 2 rooms. There I go back and forth to comfort and alleviate the fears of each of them. And really, I need to pee so bad that the rain tapping on the window of the dental room is more than unwelcomed. There's nothing like being a mother and having the opportunity to truly rescue or comfort your child. Its in those moments you know your purpose and value. I know my kids better than anyone. I'd even go as far as saying I know them better than their father. When I looked at Kyan as they were lowering the chair, I could see fear. We just looked at each other and our gaze did not break until they put the mask over his face. His hands were clinched on the chair and I slid my two fingers in his grasp. His legs instantly relaxed. Then I see the dentist go into Kasyn's room. "Oh shit, Kasyn!" I call for Kamdyn to come sit with Kyan. I go have the EXACT same experience that I just had with Kyan in Kasyn's room. With Kyan, I learned that he is still such a little guy. I sometimes think I put too much weight on his little shoulders asking him to do too much or to step up when I don't ask the same of his twin brothers. I learned that Kasyn is the opposite. Not quite the baby that I think he is. He had the same fear and locked eyes with me but he nodded at me like, "I'm good, Mom." He did ask where Kamdyn (his twin) was and that was cute. I finally did slip out and go to the restroom. So, after a track meet of back and forths between the two rooms, we're almost done. Kyan doesn't feel well. I can tell he's very odd looking, clammy, tearful, and starts to reach for me. The nurse won't let him off the oxygen. I sat with him. I put his flip flops back on and stroked his arm letting him know I was there. He threw the mask off and climbed into my lap. The nurse said it was fine and we joined Kamdyn and Kasyn in his room. Kasyn sits up and starts to wimper and then Kyan falls down over the chair and onto my lap. Kamdyn turns to the sink and pukes. Me and the nurse are distraught and look at each other like WTF?!?!? I scoop up Kyan she puts him on oxygen and with a cold rag, Sprite, and goldfish. I take Kasyn and am having him suck on a rag (he bit a chunk out of his tongue) and I have Kam laying on the floor refusing to get up. After our moments to collect ourselves we make it to the car. It's pouring COLD rain. There is a nice stream in the parking lot. It is inevitable we're going to get wet. I don't care, just get me home. I have them hang onto my shirt, purse, pants pocket as we bolt to the car. Kyan loses his flip flops and they take off in that stream. He goes after them despite that I'm yelling at him that we'll buy more. Kasyn is trying to catch rain in his mouth. Kamdyn is whining because the rain is cold and "hurting" him. Shoot me. We are beyond Calgon. This is my day off. This is what I save PTO days for. Shoot me twice. Things calm down as we get closer to home and I realize its lunch time. We need to eat. We stop and eat at IHOP. I just signed the check and look at Kasyn who has blood all over his face and its in his mouth. Calmly, I hand Kyan my phone, move Kamdyn to his side of the booth and tell Kasyn we're going to the bathroom. I tell Kyan to play with my phone and don't move. I gave the waitress that look that says, "We have issues, I need a sec, be right back." Kasyn is terrified of blood. I sat him on the counter in the bathroom. I ask him to spit in the sink. I winced. He looked at me and asked if that was the strawberry syrup he used on his pancakes. I laugh. "Yeah Bud, but its all over your mouth." He says, "It tastes like blood." I laugh again. Anyway, I get him all cleaned up from what would look like he ate shards of glass to a little boy sucking on a nasty dried brown papertowel. And we depart only to embark on a trip to Half Price Books where my oldest son is glad to be alive and Target where I finally got those Converse I wanted.
Converse. $34.99 one star All Star Converse, grey, size 9.5 that I have wanted for almost a year. Yes, I'm THAT simple. You know what else is on my "wish list"...ripped jeans. I can't find them anywhere. Not that fit right anyway. But I would say I'm a ripped jeans and Converse type of girl, yes. Now, my closest friends may convict me by saying this purchase was a result of reading Fifty Shades of Grey (not mommy porn....okay, maybe it is...maybe I don't care) because the main character is a cons and jeans kind of girl...eh, whatever.
So with that segway, let me let you in on what the last 9 days of online dating have been like. DO NOT JUDGE ME. Yeah, online dating. How in the hell else am I supposed to meet someone? HEB? No. Chuck E. Cheese? No. Traffic on MoPac as I cruise the streets in my minvan? Umm, no. A bar? Smh.
So, I had some decent luck the last time I was on match.com. No regrets really. I feel the email exchanges weed out and save some time. I saw a commercial one lonely Saturday and said, "WTH?" I saw on said commercial that you could search for free and I thought, okay. Let's just see what's out there. Well you have to set up a damn profile first. Okay, load some fabulous pics, write a lil jig about how great I am and what I'm looking for, done. Now, search.
Searching....still looking. After a few hours, I'm thinking this is not good. Cute faces but really, am thinking these men do not have friends. Definitely not chick friends because I would tell Braden and Erich in about 2 seconds NOT to EVER take or post a picture of themselves shirtless in a bathroom mirror. Or ever buy Affliction anything. That SCREAMS, "Hello, I'm a douchebag. See me now?" I went to bed that evening so glad I didn't pay for the membership and it only confirmed my contentedness in my singledom.
Oh but what's this..as my email pings...."He's Interested!" I can't view his profile because I now am presented with the option to pay/subscribe. I go back to sleep. Before I know it, my profile has been viewed over 156 times and I have 20 something "He's Interested" and a few emails pending. OMG, Khaki is getting attention. I'm giddy. I'm excited. Who likes me? What are they saying? What the hell does a wink mean?
After 2 more days of this I cave. I succumb to the wonderland that isn't Match.com. Ha! I don't know where to start. Winks, matches, interesteds, viewed me's, or emails....
Emails. Ok, so I have one guy that is easy on the eyes in a Vanilla Ice kind of way. Looks about 25 and reminds me of my waiter at Waterloo so much that I laugh and click his profile. Ohhhh, he's 37. okay. This DB proceeds to give me a "You are gorgeous. I would love to chat with you sometime" email. I write back, "Thanks for the compliment" and then I get, "I hope you are as sexy as you are sexual. How big are your nipples? I love big nipples. If you're free this weekend, I'd love to explore your body more. I'm sorry if that's too forward. I like sex. I think we are all physical beings. Why waste time with all this emailing? Let's cut to the chase." To which I respond, "Oh wow, I didn't expect that. Have you tried Plenty of Fish? I hear its great for those kinds of hook-ups but please, do tell, surely you haven't EVER gotten a response to this shit??" Then he asks me for pics and I tell him I'm not THAT girl. Now, I haven't heard from him in 4 days. Thank you.
Next guy: "Has kids but they do not live at home (2)" ...oh even better...he can understand what I clearly stated in my profle as "must understand my schedule"....his profile is witty and sarcastic but kind of dark feeling. In the back of my mind I wonder why he's divorced. He writes something odd and I write a snarly response back. He engages for a few days and after about 3 emails is asking me when my next kidfree weekends are....because if I don't go on a date with him soon, I "will have to wait until September"....uhmm, bullshit. I am not waiting for shit, actually. So, I blow him off. Whatever. He still sends me emails asking about my day and his humor has lightened and he seems eager....but I'm not.
Then there was this really sweet guy but after talking to some of my closest friends about my red flags or vibes I got from him....we decided he was too eager. And it made me uncomfortable. If I don't text you back immediately, you do not need to send the search party or ask me if everything is okay. Yes, its 845 in the morning. I responded to you as I was getting on the elevator and now I'm conversing with all my coworkers while we wait for coffee to brew about how lame my weekend was. I sent him an email letting him know this bothered me (among other things) which is a first for me. Boundaries. Check.
One guy named Caleb could be my newest best friend. He has the best profile. He's 5'11", brown eyes, looks like Keanu Reeves if you squint your eyes, is military (Army), but his profile goes like this, "I'm 6ft 2 inches, 2 years older than you, piercing blue eyes, your mother loves me" and it goes on from there with all the things one would hope to be the "Perfect" profile when really, it isn't like him at all. It made me laugh so hard. I read it twice and emailed him how funny it was. We text and are clearly friends. He is 27 and wants kids but on the selection where it says if its okay if your partner has kids he says No. He's not an option for me but we texted back and forth last night about what kind of feedback I was getting on there. He assumed my inbox was flooded and that I was probably booked with dates through July. I informed him otherwise. He couldn't believe it AND apologized on behalf of the male species. It was cute/funny.
I see a TON of "Never Married" and in their 30s which I find kind of odd. Not that I want to jump into some dude's baggage but wow....and if I have to read "I like to workout" one more time, I may scream. Or, "I work hard but play harder"..... Sure, there is some definite eye candy on there but uhm, why do you allocate an entire paragraph narrating your gym schedule. I don't know, it just seems a little high maintenance. Definitely not a ripped jeans and converse type guy....if you know me, you know I can totally bring sexy back too when necessary but this stuff is cuh-razy. Do not envy me right now.
Hindsight is 20/20 and I think I'm content in...oh wait, my phone just pinged. I have a match.com notification...wait for it....omg, I don't even get a tinge of excitement anymore. It's Vanilla Ice asking, "So, you wanna meet up or what?" Part of me wants to snap back with a raging feminist response but I'll refrain. I wrote, "No thanks."
I'm good. This solidifies my contentedness in waiting....forever....as I take two more fig newtons out of my pantry and scuffle to bed in my unmatched yoga pants that have never been worn to yoga and my shir that is way too big....because I can. Because I'm not worried about having obligatory coffee with some meat head that works out 5 or more times a week wearing an Affliction shirt taking pics of himself in his bathroom mirror....who has his shorts draped over the shower curtain rod.
Yep, all good. :-)
So, I take Ky and Kasyn in for their fillings today. I let Kam skip school too. I've got a boy in 2 rooms. There I go back and forth to comfort and alleviate the fears of each of them. And really, I need to pee so bad that the rain tapping on the window of the dental room is more than unwelcomed. There's nothing like being a mother and having the opportunity to truly rescue or comfort your child. Its in those moments you know your purpose and value. I know my kids better than anyone. I'd even go as far as saying I know them better than their father. When I looked at Kyan as they were lowering the chair, I could see fear. We just looked at each other and our gaze did not break until they put the mask over his face. His hands were clinched on the chair and I slid my two fingers in his grasp. His legs instantly relaxed. Then I see the dentist go into Kasyn's room. "Oh shit, Kasyn!" I call for Kamdyn to come sit with Kyan. I go have the EXACT same experience that I just had with Kyan in Kasyn's room. With Kyan, I learned that he is still such a little guy. I sometimes think I put too much weight on his little shoulders asking him to do too much or to step up when I don't ask the same of his twin brothers. I learned that Kasyn is the opposite. Not quite the baby that I think he is. He had the same fear and locked eyes with me but he nodded at me like, "I'm good, Mom." He did ask where Kamdyn (his twin) was and that was cute. I finally did slip out and go to the restroom. So, after a track meet of back and forths between the two rooms, we're almost done. Kyan doesn't feel well. I can tell he's very odd looking, clammy, tearful, and starts to reach for me. The nurse won't let him off the oxygen. I sat with him. I put his flip flops back on and stroked his arm letting him know I was there. He threw the mask off and climbed into my lap. The nurse said it was fine and we joined Kamdyn and Kasyn in his room. Kasyn sits up and starts to wimper and then Kyan falls down over the chair and onto my lap. Kamdyn turns to the sink and pukes. Me and the nurse are distraught and look at each other like WTF?!?!? I scoop up Kyan she puts him on oxygen and with a cold rag, Sprite, and goldfish. I take Kasyn and am having him suck on a rag (he bit a chunk out of his tongue) and I have Kam laying on the floor refusing to get up. After our moments to collect ourselves we make it to the car. It's pouring COLD rain. There is a nice stream in the parking lot. It is inevitable we're going to get wet. I don't care, just get me home. I have them hang onto my shirt, purse, pants pocket as we bolt to the car. Kyan loses his flip flops and they take off in that stream. He goes after them despite that I'm yelling at him that we'll buy more. Kasyn is trying to catch rain in his mouth. Kamdyn is whining because the rain is cold and "hurting" him. Shoot me. We are beyond Calgon. This is my day off. This is what I save PTO days for. Shoot me twice. Things calm down as we get closer to home and I realize its lunch time. We need to eat. We stop and eat at IHOP. I just signed the check and look at Kasyn who has blood all over his face and its in his mouth. Calmly, I hand Kyan my phone, move Kamdyn to his side of the booth and tell Kasyn we're going to the bathroom. I tell Kyan to play with my phone and don't move. I gave the waitress that look that says, "We have issues, I need a sec, be right back." Kasyn is terrified of blood. I sat him on the counter in the bathroom. I ask him to spit in the sink. I winced. He looked at me and asked if that was the strawberry syrup he used on his pancakes. I laugh. "Yeah Bud, but its all over your mouth." He says, "It tastes like blood." I laugh again. Anyway, I get him all cleaned up from what would look like he ate shards of glass to a little boy sucking on a nasty dried brown papertowel. And we depart only to embark on a trip to Half Price Books where my oldest son is glad to be alive and Target where I finally got those Converse I wanted.
Converse. $34.99 one star All Star Converse, grey, size 9.5 that I have wanted for almost a year. Yes, I'm THAT simple. You know what else is on my "wish list"...ripped jeans. I can't find them anywhere. Not that fit right anyway. But I would say I'm a ripped jeans and Converse type of girl, yes. Now, my closest friends may convict me by saying this purchase was a result of reading Fifty Shades of Grey (not mommy porn....okay, maybe it is...maybe I don't care) because the main character is a cons and jeans kind of girl...eh, whatever.
So with that segway, let me let you in on what the last 9 days of online dating have been like. DO NOT JUDGE ME. Yeah, online dating. How in the hell else am I supposed to meet someone? HEB? No. Chuck E. Cheese? No. Traffic on MoPac as I cruise the streets in my minvan? Umm, no. A bar? Smh.
So, I had some decent luck the last time I was on match.com. No regrets really. I feel the email exchanges weed out and save some time. I saw a commercial one lonely Saturday and said, "WTH?" I saw on said commercial that you could search for free and I thought, okay. Let's just see what's out there. Well you have to set up a damn profile first. Okay, load some fabulous pics, write a lil jig about how great I am and what I'm looking for, done. Now, search.
Searching....still looking. After a few hours, I'm thinking this is not good. Cute faces but really, am thinking these men do not have friends. Definitely not chick friends because I would tell Braden and Erich in about 2 seconds NOT to EVER take or post a picture of themselves shirtless in a bathroom mirror. Or ever buy Affliction anything. That SCREAMS, "Hello, I'm a douchebag. See me now?" I went to bed that evening so glad I didn't pay for the membership and it only confirmed my contentedness in my singledom.
Oh but what's this..as my email pings...."He's Interested!" I can't view his profile because I now am presented with the option to pay/subscribe. I go back to sleep. Before I know it, my profile has been viewed over 156 times and I have 20 something "He's Interested" and a few emails pending. OMG, Khaki is getting attention. I'm giddy. I'm excited. Who likes me? What are they saying? What the hell does a wink mean?
After 2 more days of this I cave. I succumb to the wonderland that isn't Match.com. Ha! I don't know where to start. Winks, matches, interesteds, viewed me's, or emails....
Emails. Ok, so I have one guy that is easy on the eyes in a Vanilla Ice kind of way. Looks about 25 and reminds me of my waiter at Waterloo so much that I laugh and click his profile. Ohhhh, he's 37. okay. This DB proceeds to give me a "You are gorgeous. I would love to chat with you sometime" email. I write back, "Thanks for the compliment" and then I get, "I hope you are as sexy as you are sexual. How big are your nipples? I love big nipples. If you're free this weekend, I'd love to explore your body more. I'm sorry if that's too forward. I like sex. I think we are all physical beings. Why waste time with all this emailing? Let's cut to the chase." To which I respond, "Oh wow, I didn't expect that. Have you tried Plenty of Fish? I hear its great for those kinds of hook-ups but please, do tell, surely you haven't EVER gotten a response to this shit??" Then he asks me for pics and I tell him I'm not THAT girl. Now, I haven't heard from him in 4 days. Thank you.
Next guy: "Has kids but they do not live at home (2)" ...oh even better...he can understand what I clearly stated in my profle as "must understand my schedule"....his profile is witty and sarcastic but kind of dark feeling. In the back of my mind I wonder why he's divorced. He writes something odd and I write a snarly response back. He engages for a few days and after about 3 emails is asking me when my next kidfree weekends are....because if I don't go on a date with him soon, I "will have to wait until September"....uhmm, bullshit. I am not waiting for shit, actually. So, I blow him off. Whatever. He still sends me emails asking about my day and his humor has lightened and he seems eager....but I'm not.
Then there was this really sweet guy but after talking to some of my closest friends about my red flags or vibes I got from him....we decided he was too eager. And it made me uncomfortable. If I don't text you back immediately, you do not need to send the search party or ask me if everything is okay. Yes, its 845 in the morning. I responded to you as I was getting on the elevator and now I'm conversing with all my coworkers while we wait for coffee to brew about how lame my weekend was. I sent him an email letting him know this bothered me (among other things) which is a first for me. Boundaries. Check.
One guy named Caleb could be my newest best friend. He has the best profile. He's 5'11", brown eyes, looks like Keanu Reeves if you squint your eyes, is military (Army), but his profile goes like this, "I'm 6ft 2 inches, 2 years older than you, piercing blue eyes, your mother loves me" and it goes on from there with all the things one would hope to be the "Perfect" profile when really, it isn't like him at all. It made me laugh so hard. I read it twice and emailed him how funny it was. We text and are clearly friends. He is 27 and wants kids but on the selection where it says if its okay if your partner has kids he says No. He's not an option for me but we texted back and forth last night about what kind of feedback I was getting on there. He assumed my inbox was flooded and that I was probably booked with dates through July. I informed him otherwise. He couldn't believe it AND apologized on behalf of the male species. It was cute/funny.
I see a TON of "Never Married" and in their 30s which I find kind of odd. Not that I want to jump into some dude's baggage but wow....and if I have to read "I like to workout" one more time, I may scream. Or, "I work hard but play harder"..... Sure, there is some definite eye candy on there but uhm, why do you allocate an entire paragraph narrating your gym schedule. I don't know, it just seems a little high maintenance. Definitely not a ripped jeans and converse type guy....if you know me, you know I can totally bring sexy back too when necessary but this stuff is cuh-razy. Do not envy me right now.
Hindsight is 20/20 and I think I'm content in...oh wait, my phone just pinged. I have a match.com notification...wait for it....omg, I don't even get a tinge of excitement anymore. It's Vanilla Ice asking, "So, you wanna meet up or what?" Part of me wants to snap back with a raging feminist response but I'll refrain. I wrote, "No thanks."
I'm good. This solidifies my contentedness in waiting....forever....as I take two more fig newtons out of my pantry and scuffle to bed in my unmatched yoga pants that have never been worn to yoga and my shir that is way too big....because I can. Because I'm not worried about having obligatory coffee with some meat head that works out 5 or more times a week wearing an Affliction shirt taking pics of himself in his bathroom mirror....who has his shorts draped over the shower curtain rod.
Yep, all good. :-)
Monday, January 2, 2012
My two cents...is worth a lot
So, I welcome 2012 with open arms, I really do. 2011 had its ups and downs for me but overall I'd call it a mediocre year at best. I learned a lot about me this past year. I also learned a lot about how other people see me. Lately, I've been on this running binge. I say binge because I'm sure it won't last. It never does. Its not even a New Year's resolution. I tend to be an over-analyzer and can't get my head to shut up so in an effort to quiet down the chatter, I run. That's all it is. I put on my headphones and hope something speaks to me, distracts me....or hell, that some hot guy in a Jeep is thinking "Heeyyy Baby" and stops to take me to dinner. Omg, totally kidding. I just totally admire those people that can hit the pavement effortlessly and run like gazelles. I mean, I huff and I puff when I run...mouth open and my throat burns from sucking in the cold air. Yeah, its not cute but it feels good. When I'm done, it feels really great.
Since November strange things have happened to me. I say strange but other people roll their eyes at that. I feel that people have been overly generous and kind lately. I'm not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth but really it puzzles me. Because of my innate need to analyze every single who, why, how and what, I have spent the majority of the past two months trying to figure out why certain people are so nice to me. I think I figure if things get too good or are going too well, I'll get sucker punched with something far worse than all the greatness combined on a polar level. Skeptic? Cynic? Overly cautious? Paranoid? Crazy? Perhaps all of the above.
At any rate, let me let you in on my today. My planning for today had actually started last night. Sitting all day in my apartment after my NYE at the cabin and catching up on some much needed rest and relaxtion (sans children), reading and watching television, I decided that I needed to get out and about today. So, the issues weighing down my thoughts here of late involve a situation with a boy. I'm not going into details about who this boy is. If you know me, you know who it is. Strike that, if your name is Carly, you know who the boy is. If you don't, you don't need to. At any rate, I can't figure this species out. Who is the closest person I can talk to that would help alleviate this puzzle? My brother, Quincy. Quincy, the eternal bachelor. If anyone can explain why some dude is being a complete idiot or douchebag its probably Quincy. Not because he is one but because he has that wiring.
I decided to go to the driving range with my brother. Learning to golf is on my bucket list and has been. I have my mom's starter set of clubs, shoes, etc. so I have no reason not to go. I actually like the driving range. And while I have 2 golf pros within reach, I needed some time with my brother. I rarely am around him without my boys and they hog all of his attention. Q accepted my invite. So, we decided on noonish to meet at Mister Tee and we did. We were there for almost 2 hours. I know I read too much into everything and while I don't make New Year's resolutions I do have a list of things I'd like to change or tweak or modify about me. Lesson from the driving range: When swinging a club, it is more natural for me to swing it more like a baseball bat hitting a baseball. Ironically, and in the same breath as that last statement, when I don't think about all the things put into a golf swing, I actually made contact with the ball and would even go as far to say it was "good"...On my drive home, that echoed in my brain, "...as unnatural as it is, stop thinking and it becomes natural..."
I didn't really get to chat with my brother about the issues that were weighing my head down so much here lately and realized that I didn't even think about those issues while at the range. So, it was a great distraction. But upon departure, a truck pulled in the parking lot....the same kind of truck that "he" drives. Ok, Khaki, you're retarded. This is enough. "Hey Q, wanna go to Chikfila for lunch?" And he did. So off we went and we discussed said issues and I realized that I was correct. It really isn't about me. Its him....the dude. And that perhaps I should just "Let it Go" and go and not take things so personally sometimes. Note: I'm a work in progress.
So, I am heading home from all that golfing and decide that while I consumed the most unhealthy choice at Chikfila (chicken strips with mayonaise and polynesian sauce and waffle fries dipped in the same) it may not be a bad idea to knock out a few miles....or 3 before I get inside and lay down and either fall asleep or the soreness from my swinging sets in and I start making excuses not to run. I grab my headphones and start to run. I ran really hard after my .10th of a mile warm-up. I was feeling good. Rihanna was jamming out and I was bringing sexy back....all was right with the world until all of a sudden after mile 2, I felt this horrible burn in the back of my throat and I couldn't even spit to make it better. Yeah, I tried. Gross, I know. Get over the visual already. So, I'm walking up the hill and feel like instead of overkill on the exercise today, its time to go in and focus on the relax part of my day. I don't normally cut through the entrance over by the leasing office but I did to see if the office was opened because I need to drop off rent. I always like going in and talking to Orion if he's working. I saw an elderly woman walking with a cane who looked beyond frustrated. She is trying to walk up the stair but there is no railing. And she's grasping for it and shuffling her feet but cannot make her legs lift to take that step. I kind of panicked for a second and ran over to her for fear she may fall. She was alone. I offered her my arm to help her up the steps and she is yelling at me. Not out of anger towards me but out of frustration because, "Everytime he leaves, things just fall apart. The kitchen sink is about to flood the apartment and he's not home. I need them to come fix it. I have no water. My TV is out and he's going to have to call someone to fix it. Oh why does the world fall apart when he leaves? He's on that cruise with her and left me here. Oh, oh, oh. I don't know what to do!!!!!!!" Immediately, a smile so big consumes my face and I could not be more eager to alleviate all that is going through this woman's mind. Like almost a feeling of "Thank you, God...for picking me on this one."
Now, I love people. I love old people. I love young people. I love helping people...I think I was put on this planet to first, be a mother. Second, to help people. That's why I'm torn at my job right now. I love the people I do have the privelege to help and interact with dearly but that is only about 10% of my job. The other 90% is producing financials which means being married to Excel and Access and well, not my idea of a dream job.
So, the leasing office is closed. I have my cell phone and I call the emergency number and leave a message with the service. This woman has no phone number though. I can't give a call back number for her because she said, "He took his phone and I don't know how to use the phone." And in my mind, I'm wondering who the hell is "he" and what was he thinking leaving this woman alone. Good gravy!!
If there's anyone on the entire apartment complex that has the direct number to the maintenance guy, Dwayne, its probably me. Sidenote, Kasyn has clogged our toilet with more superheroes than I can even count. Dwayne is one of 5 boys raised by a single mother and he told me one time that watching me handle my boys makes him call his mom and thank her. I live behind the leasing office where the maintenance golf carts often gather in the mornings. Dwayne has helped me unload groceries, let us swim after hours with the boys, fixed things in my apt on the sly without a formal request to the office, etc. Oh Miss Cornelia, do not worry. I can help you.
I called Dwayne and he said he would be over in a second. The lady, named Cornelia, did know her apartment number. So, off we scuffle, back to her apartment. Umm, her apartment was a nice big fat zig zag away from mine/leasing office. At the pace we walked, I'm guessing it took her an hour to get there. I cut through breezeways. She did not.
The whole walk back she is still panicked over being left alone. It crossed my mind on the way back if I her sink was really flooding. I have an 85 year old grandmother that lives with my mother and I have the privelege of watching from time to time. I get it. I learned from Miss Cornelia that she was born on March 20th and that "every March 20th is a splendid Spring day"...I refrained from telling her that last March 20th it was a cold dreary snowy day. I only remember this because it was the first time my twins saw snow. She asked me my name. Rather than get into all the complications of a name like Khaki....I simply told her my name was Kady. My initials are KD and my dad used to call me Kady. My name was really irrelevant. It worked. She paused and told me that I was an angel. She kept pinching my arm and asking if I was real. I told her about my three boys. Several times she insisted that she was too much trouble and interrupting my day and that I should just leave her. I refused and told her that she had no idea how happy I was to have met her and there is no place I'd rather be than walking with her back to her apartment. She cried. I found out that her son was on a cruise with his girlfriend. She didn't like his girlfriend. And his girlfriend "isn't even half as pretty as you are Kady"...(insert shaking head and smile). Aha, we make it to her apartment and she cannot use the key on her wrist to open the door. And I have to question how she even locked the door in the first place. So, I help her unlock her door and guide her in. I ask her if I can take a look at the sink.
NO water is running. No noise is coming from this apartment. I walk over to the kitchen sink. She grabs my arm and yells at me not to touch it because it the handle is broken and it's going to flood the apartment. Umm, no it isn't, actually. I tell her to leave it alone and Dwayne will come in a second. I ask her if I can get her a drink or help her get situated. She tells me that her television is out and her son will have to call the company out to fix it. Oh I really know this drill. This is Nanny 101 for me. I fix her television to the news channel. Again, she pinches me. I'm an angel sent from God and am not real. I just laugh and shake my head. "Miss Cornelia, what else can I do for you? I really think you should eat or drink something, that was a very long walk for you." She asks for milk. There is very little. She starts to cry. She doesn't know when her son will be home to get her some more milk. And she can't drink water because the sink is broken. I tell her I'm going to go to the grocery store and get her a gallon of milk. I check the labeling to make sure I get the right one and am ready to go. She reaches into her pocket and wants to pay me. She wants to pay me for the milk, for the walk, for calling the maintenance guy, for fixing the tv. I told her that there is no way on earth I'm accepting any money from her. She is a very stubborn woman and hands me $1. Then says, "Wait, take $3 because I'm wasting your time." I laugh. I take the money simply because I've had this argument with my grandmother before and really, its pointless. I also know what its like to want to give so much more back to someone helping you than you are able. I go to the store and come right back. Omg, she left the front door wide open. I knock and hollar for her almost afraid of what I might find. She's playing a game of Solitaire on the kitchen table and smiling and she's singing. I approach her and put the milk in the refrigerator. She smiles and claps her hands together, "Kaaaddyyyyy!!! You came back! I left the door open for you." I set the receipt for the gallon of milk that cost $2.98 and set the $.02 right next to it. She is so adamant about me keeping the change. All two cents. She holds my hands and thanks me over and over and tells me how so many good things are heading my way. And just like that she starts to cry. And I just know what she's about to say to me. I interrupt her...."Miss Cornelia, is that Solitaire? I don't know how to play Solitaire. Can I just watch you for a few minutes?" I sat and watched her so calmly but with very quick hands, play her card game. She is the fastest Solitaire player I have ever seen. I smiled and gave her a hug and headed for the door. Without looking away from her game, she hollars to me, "Kady, you forgot to take your change." "Oh yes, Miss Cornelia, I did. Thank you." And I picked up my two cents and headed home. I've thought about her non-stop since. I'm going to go check on her here in a bit. She made my day. A little niceness goes a long way.
Since November strange things have happened to me. I say strange but other people roll their eyes at that. I feel that people have been overly generous and kind lately. I'm not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth but really it puzzles me. Because of my innate need to analyze every single who, why, how and what, I have spent the majority of the past two months trying to figure out why certain people are so nice to me. I think I figure if things get too good or are going too well, I'll get sucker punched with something far worse than all the greatness combined on a polar level. Skeptic? Cynic? Overly cautious? Paranoid? Crazy? Perhaps all of the above.
At any rate, let me let you in on my today. My planning for today had actually started last night. Sitting all day in my apartment after my NYE at the cabin and catching up on some much needed rest and relaxtion (sans children), reading and watching television, I decided that I needed to get out and about today. So, the issues weighing down my thoughts here of late involve a situation with a boy. I'm not going into details about who this boy is. If you know me, you know who it is. Strike that, if your name is Carly, you know who the boy is. If you don't, you don't need to. At any rate, I can't figure this species out. Who is the closest person I can talk to that would help alleviate this puzzle? My brother, Quincy. Quincy, the eternal bachelor. If anyone can explain why some dude is being a complete idiot or douchebag its probably Quincy. Not because he is one but because he has that wiring.
I decided to go to the driving range with my brother. Learning to golf is on my bucket list and has been. I have my mom's starter set of clubs, shoes, etc. so I have no reason not to go. I actually like the driving range. And while I have 2 golf pros within reach, I needed some time with my brother. I rarely am around him without my boys and they hog all of his attention. Q accepted my invite. So, we decided on noonish to meet at Mister Tee and we did. We were there for almost 2 hours. I know I read too much into everything and while I don't make New Year's resolutions I do have a list of things I'd like to change or tweak or modify about me. Lesson from the driving range: When swinging a club, it is more natural for me to swing it more like a baseball bat hitting a baseball. Ironically, and in the same breath as that last statement, when I don't think about all the things put into a golf swing, I actually made contact with the ball and would even go as far to say it was "good"...On my drive home, that echoed in my brain, "...as unnatural as it is, stop thinking and it becomes natural..."
I didn't really get to chat with my brother about the issues that were weighing my head down so much here lately and realized that I didn't even think about those issues while at the range. So, it was a great distraction. But upon departure, a truck pulled in the parking lot....the same kind of truck that "he" drives. Ok, Khaki, you're retarded. This is enough. "Hey Q, wanna go to Chikfila for lunch?" And he did. So off we went and we discussed said issues and I realized that I was correct. It really isn't about me. Its him....the dude. And that perhaps I should just "Let it Go" and go and not take things so personally sometimes. Note: I'm a work in progress.
So, I am heading home from all that golfing and decide that while I consumed the most unhealthy choice at Chikfila (chicken strips with mayonaise and polynesian sauce and waffle fries dipped in the same) it may not be a bad idea to knock out a few miles....or 3 before I get inside and lay down and either fall asleep or the soreness from my swinging sets in and I start making excuses not to run. I grab my headphones and start to run. I ran really hard after my .10th of a mile warm-up. I was feeling good. Rihanna was jamming out and I was bringing sexy back....all was right with the world until all of a sudden after mile 2, I felt this horrible burn in the back of my throat and I couldn't even spit to make it better. Yeah, I tried. Gross, I know. Get over the visual already. So, I'm walking up the hill and feel like instead of overkill on the exercise today, its time to go in and focus on the relax part of my day. I don't normally cut through the entrance over by the leasing office but I did to see if the office was opened because I need to drop off rent. I always like going in and talking to Orion if he's working. I saw an elderly woman walking with a cane who looked beyond frustrated. She is trying to walk up the stair but there is no railing. And she's grasping for it and shuffling her feet but cannot make her legs lift to take that step. I kind of panicked for a second and ran over to her for fear she may fall. She was alone. I offered her my arm to help her up the steps and she is yelling at me. Not out of anger towards me but out of frustration because, "Everytime he leaves, things just fall apart. The kitchen sink is about to flood the apartment and he's not home. I need them to come fix it. I have no water. My TV is out and he's going to have to call someone to fix it. Oh why does the world fall apart when he leaves? He's on that cruise with her and left me here. Oh, oh, oh. I don't know what to do!!!!!!!" Immediately, a smile so big consumes my face and I could not be more eager to alleviate all that is going through this woman's mind. Like almost a feeling of "Thank you, God...for picking me on this one."
Now, I love people. I love old people. I love young people. I love helping people...I think I was put on this planet to first, be a mother. Second, to help people. That's why I'm torn at my job right now. I love the people I do have the privelege to help and interact with dearly but that is only about 10% of my job. The other 90% is producing financials which means being married to Excel and Access and well, not my idea of a dream job.
So, the leasing office is closed. I have my cell phone and I call the emergency number and leave a message with the service. This woman has no phone number though. I can't give a call back number for her because she said, "He took his phone and I don't know how to use the phone." And in my mind, I'm wondering who the hell is "he" and what was he thinking leaving this woman alone. Good gravy!!
If there's anyone on the entire apartment complex that has the direct number to the maintenance guy, Dwayne, its probably me. Sidenote, Kasyn has clogged our toilet with more superheroes than I can even count. Dwayne is one of 5 boys raised by a single mother and he told me one time that watching me handle my boys makes him call his mom and thank her. I live behind the leasing office where the maintenance golf carts often gather in the mornings. Dwayne has helped me unload groceries, let us swim after hours with the boys, fixed things in my apt on the sly without a formal request to the office, etc. Oh Miss Cornelia, do not worry. I can help you.
I called Dwayne and he said he would be over in a second. The lady, named Cornelia, did know her apartment number. So, off we scuffle, back to her apartment. Umm, her apartment was a nice big fat zig zag away from mine/leasing office. At the pace we walked, I'm guessing it took her an hour to get there. I cut through breezeways. She did not.
The whole walk back she is still panicked over being left alone. It crossed my mind on the way back if I her sink was really flooding. I have an 85 year old grandmother that lives with my mother and I have the privelege of watching from time to time. I get it. I learned from Miss Cornelia that she was born on March 20th and that "every March 20th is a splendid Spring day"...I refrained from telling her that last March 20th it was a cold dreary snowy day. I only remember this because it was the first time my twins saw snow. She asked me my name. Rather than get into all the complications of a name like Khaki....I simply told her my name was Kady. My initials are KD and my dad used to call me Kady. My name was really irrelevant. It worked. She paused and told me that I was an angel. She kept pinching my arm and asking if I was real. I told her about my three boys. Several times she insisted that she was too much trouble and interrupting my day and that I should just leave her. I refused and told her that she had no idea how happy I was to have met her and there is no place I'd rather be than walking with her back to her apartment. She cried. I found out that her son was on a cruise with his girlfriend. She didn't like his girlfriend. And his girlfriend "isn't even half as pretty as you are Kady"...(insert shaking head and smile). Aha, we make it to her apartment and she cannot use the key on her wrist to open the door. And I have to question how she even locked the door in the first place. So, I help her unlock her door and guide her in. I ask her if I can take a look at the sink.
NO water is running. No noise is coming from this apartment. I walk over to the kitchen sink. She grabs my arm and yells at me not to touch it because it the handle is broken and it's going to flood the apartment. Umm, no it isn't, actually. I tell her to leave it alone and Dwayne will come in a second. I ask her if I can get her a drink or help her get situated. She tells me that her television is out and her son will have to call the company out to fix it. Oh I really know this drill. This is Nanny 101 for me. I fix her television to the news channel. Again, she pinches me. I'm an angel sent from God and am not real. I just laugh and shake my head. "Miss Cornelia, what else can I do for you? I really think you should eat or drink something, that was a very long walk for you." She asks for milk. There is very little. She starts to cry. She doesn't know when her son will be home to get her some more milk. And she can't drink water because the sink is broken. I tell her I'm going to go to the grocery store and get her a gallon of milk. I check the labeling to make sure I get the right one and am ready to go. She reaches into her pocket and wants to pay me. She wants to pay me for the milk, for the walk, for calling the maintenance guy, for fixing the tv. I told her that there is no way on earth I'm accepting any money from her. She is a very stubborn woman and hands me $1. Then says, "Wait, take $3 because I'm wasting your time." I laugh. I take the money simply because I've had this argument with my grandmother before and really, its pointless. I also know what its like to want to give so much more back to someone helping you than you are able. I go to the store and come right back. Omg, she left the front door wide open. I knock and hollar for her almost afraid of what I might find. She's playing a game of Solitaire on the kitchen table and smiling and she's singing. I approach her and put the milk in the refrigerator. She smiles and claps her hands together, "Kaaaddyyyyy!!! You came back! I left the door open for you." I set the receipt for the gallon of milk that cost $2.98 and set the $.02 right next to it. She is so adamant about me keeping the change. All two cents. She holds my hands and thanks me over and over and tells me how so many good things are heading my way. And just like that she starts to cry. And I just know what she's about to say to me. I interrupt her...."Miss Cornelia, is that Solitaire? I don't know how to play Solitaire. Can I just watch you for a few minutes?" I sat and watched her so calmly but with very quick hands, play her card game. She is the fastest Solitaire player I have ever seen. I smiled and gave her a hug and headed for the door. Without looking away from her game, she hollars to me, "Kady, you forgot to take your change." "Oh yes, Miss Cornelia, I did. Thank you." And I picked up my two cents and headed home. I've thought about her non-stop since. I'm going to go check on her here in a bit. She made my day. A little niceness goes a long way.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Let It Go
I know its been awhile since I've blogged...well, that's inaccurate. I've been blogging but not publishing them. Still, not as often as I should have. I'm not even really sure why. I've been on a crazy rollercoaster this year. And as it comes to a close, I've decided I need to write more in 2012. In fact, I'd say 2011 was probably tied with 2008 for worst year ever.
Recently a young man that I've met once in my lifetime, a friend of a friend if you will, had posted that I should write a book. He said this in reference to the crazy stuff I put on Facebook about my kids. I was flattered because this guy is NOT the typical audience I would expect to have if I ever did in fact write a book. He has, since, read my blog. Crazy how things happen sometimes.
At any rate...wait for it..."Here I sit...." drinking a glass of red wine and contemplating life. Actually, that's what I've done all day..the contemplating life part. I cleaned my house. Well, not clean like I want to clean. I didn't bust out the Pledge and Windex or mops and Fabuloso but it's vacuumed and picked up and laundry is done. Christmas decor has been packed up. As I look around, I think to myself, wow, as shitty as this apartment is to me....it's been good to us. I will be so glad to leave it in 2012 though. So, I had a helluva time with my Christmas tree this year. Some lights worked, some didn't. I never did get it fully lit. As soon as I laced it with strung lights (probably worst grammar ever...my bad) amongst the burnt out pre-lit bullshit, the entire top half of the tree quit working. I gave up.
Let's rewind for a few. I recently kinda dated or was talking to this guy...and he doesn't get his own blog or introduction just yet because he hates that I blog and I told him I wouldn't blog about him and we were hanging out at his house and he said something to me that really pissed me off at the time. We were talking about our divorces. This was back in October. October was the month Kevin got married. October was the month of our anniversary. October is shit to me. I hate October. And so I'm sitting in this guy's living room after one of the most awkward moments two people can have only for him to say to me, "Just let it go." Really, asshole, let it go? Do you know what its like to walk in my shoes? I have 3 kids with a man that left me and married some white trash whore and all you can say is "Let It Go".....can we not have an adult conversation? I mean, I'm not trying to be all sentimental or cry on your fucking shoulder. Jeez.
Ok, pick up where I was a minute ago. I did not share this mental reaction with him. I sat there sweetly and listened to him tell the story of the demise of his marriage and wondered if that had been me, I would've stayed. No one cheated. It seemed to have been a case of miscommunication and stubbornness. And on the long drive home from his house, I thought about what he had said to me. And the way he said it. So rudely. It has since echoed in my head many times. I hung out with this guy last night for a few. We actually had a conversation about his "Let It Go" and I told him how much it offended me. I told him how rude it was. You know what he said to me. He said he had since thought about that night too and realized that. He also told me that he had a family confrontation (for lack of a better word) and they all told him the same thing about his divorce. He said he'd never say it to me again because he realizes he too, needs to just let it go.
I was tearing down my Christmas tree decor today and when it came to deciding to store or not to store a broken shitty Christmas tree, I paused.....and as Misty said to me, "Take a moment"....took my moment and all I could hear was "Let It Go".....so I did. Off to the dumpster went the first Christmas tree I had in my first house with my complete family. Oddly, this is the same Christmas tree that I let Asa borrow one Christmas. Asa...the messenger of all things evil regarding Kevin's extracurricular lifestyle. Yep, to the trash it went. Next year, I will get another tree. Not even going to worry about it now. It will be a perfect tree.
Sometimes you just gotta "Let It Go"....it really is that simple. More brewing in this head of mine but I'm going to sit on the couch and chill out a bit.
Life is good.
Recently a young man that I've met once in my lifetime, a friend of a friend if you will, had posted that I should write a book. He said this in reference to the crazy stuff I put on Facebook about my kids. I was flattered because this guy is NOT the typical audience I would expect to have if I ever did in fact write a book. He has, since, read my blog. Crazy how things happen sometimes.
At any rate...wait for it..."Here I sit...." drinking a glass of red wine and contemplating life. Actually, that's what I've done all day..the contemplating life part. I cleaned my house. Well, not clean like I want to clean. I didn't bust out the Pledge and Windex or mops and Fabuloso but it's vacuumed and picked up and laundry is done. Christmas decor has been packed up. As I look around, I think to myself, wow, as shitty as this apartment is to me....it's been good to us. I will be so glad to leave it in 2012 though. So, I had a helluva time with my Christmas tree this year. Some lights worked, some didn't. I never did get it fully lit. As soon as I laced it with strung lights (probably worst grammar ever...my bad) amongst the burnt out pre-lit bullshit, the entire top half of the tree quit working. I gave up.
Let's rewind for a few. I recently kinda dated or was talking to this guy...and he doesn't get his own blog or introduction just yet because he hates that I blog and I told him I wouldn't blog about him and we were hanging out at his house and he said something to me that really pissed me off at the time. We were talking about our divorces. This was back in October. October was the month Kevin got married. October was the month of our anniversary. October is shit to me. I hate October. And so I'm sitting in this guy's living room after one of the most awkward moments two people can have only for him to say to me, "Just let it go." Really, asshole, let it go? Do you know what its like to walk in my shoes? I have 3 kids with a man that left me and married some white trash whore and all you can say is "Let It Go".....can we not have an adult conversation? I mean, I'm not trying to be all sentimental or cry on your fucking shoulder. Jeez.
Ok, pick up where I was a minute ago. I did not share this mental reaction with him. I sat there sweetly and listened to him tell the story of the demise of his marriage and wondered if that had been me, I would've stayed. No one cheated. It seemed to have been a case of miscommunication and stubbornness. And on the long drive home from his house, I thought about what he had said to me. And the way he said it. So rudely. It has since echoed in my head many times. I hung out with this guy last night for a few. We actually had a conversation about his "Let It Go" and I told him how much it offended me. I told him how rude it was. You know what he said to me. He said he had since thought about that night too and realized that. He also told me that he had a family confrontation (for lack of a better word) and they all told him the same thing about his divorce. He said he'd never say it to me again because he realizes he too, needs to just let it go.
I was tearing down my Christmas tree decor today and when it came to deciding to store or not to store a broken shitty Christmas tree, I paused.....and as Misty said to me, "Take a moment"....took my moment and all I could hear was "Let It Go".....so I did. Off to the dumpster went the first Christmas tree I had in my first house with my complete family. Oddly, this is the same Christmas tree that I let Asa borrow one Christmas. Asa...the messenger of all things evil regarding Kevin's extracurricular lifestyle. Yep, to the trash it went. Next year, I will get another tree. Not even going to worry about it now. It will be a perfect tree.
Sometimes you just gotta "Let It Go"....it really is that simple. More brewing in this head of mine but I'm going to sit on the couch and chill out a bit.
Life is good.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Golden Ticket.....Cloud 9!
Ok, so here I am having just gotten home from the Tightrope CD release party of my all time favorite songwriter, Susan Gibson. I am on a high....the shaking has since subdued but I can't sleep. So blog, I go.
When I was around 14, I would sit in the living room of our condo in Amarillo, TX and I would listen to Gary Wayne and Quincy jam out acoustically song after song so many times that I can remember falling asleep many nights. Back then Gary was in a band called the Groobees. Their first CD, Flying Machine, lacked something overall....and then you'd hear it echo in the background....a female vocal....powerful....just every so often in very few songs. THEN BAM, like Emeril, here she is on their 2nd CD and then BAM here she is in the forefront of all of their shows...their chick singer....the power behind the voice and later I learned the mastermind behind a lot of their lyrics...Susan Freakin' Gibson.
She has this natural beauty about her....scuffed up boots, rugged sweater, hair down or thrown up....a beautiful soul. During my struggle with my weight, I became a huge fan searching for the confidence that she carried in conversation and on stage. Of course, my heart still with Gary Wayne and his riffs....whether electric or acoustic.....but the chick on stage that I was beginning to idolize was Susan. She's not a teeny tiny sex machine like a lot of chick singers, no. She's a good ol' homegrown lyrical genius that can play not only the guitar but so many other instruments. If only I could be like Susan.....a woman who is comfortable in her own skin...something I've never been.
I never had an interest in picking up one of my brother's guitars....too hard. But I've always loved to sing. And I would memorize her parts to all the Groobees CDs. When in Amarillo, we'd go hear them play. When in Dallas, we'd go hear them play. In fact, not even 24 hours after being released from the hospital in Dallas for having spent 7 days in the hospital with pnuemonia, I made Kevin (my now ex-husband) take me to Denton to see a show in a smoke filled bar. I had to go.
I wore these snakeskin printed vinyl pants to her show at Sons of Hermann Hall in Dallas once....and she actually asked if she could have them. Perhaps kidding....did she know I would've gladly traded her pants that day? :-)
Insert Comforts of Home off the Groobees Wayside CD....I would run a bath and jam out to this song..on repeat....hello, concert and audience of and for ONE. Me. Little did I know how that song would hit me several years later....as I became a hermit, confined to my own adventure of self destruction. Food. Avoidance. Weight gain. Disconnect. "At times it seems I just can't wait to lock my doors and hibernate...."
At a Poor David's Pub show in Dallas, I was front row with about 7 or 8 coworkers that were all there because of me and my stellar marketing skills.....I was singing at the top of my lungs...Shut This Place Down...and Susan forgot the words....looks at me as I'm mouthing every single lyric, winks, nodded, smiled, laughed...and said, "Hell I don't know the words but SHE sure does...." and I'm still convinced I cued her back on track.
Quincy used to do karaoke at his house with his sound system and all his friends and of course, the only song I would sing was Susan. He'd put on her CD, turn down the vocals and I'd wail....it always had to be Susan though.
She was at the fair in Dallas one year....oh wait, 2005 to be exact. My son, Kyan, was only a few months old and it was hot as hell. We got a picture of me holding Kyan with Susan next to us. It was one of my favorite pics ever. I put it in a baby book of his and labeled it...."Me and Mom with her all time favorite songwriters. She's famous, ya know." Then, last year, Kyan got the privilege of having her sign this book at her show in Austin at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe....
I got to meet her right hand girl, Jana, and am in just as much awe of her as I am Susan. Jana is also a good soul. You can just tell. Let's not overlook either of their talents...She engaged in conversation with me and actually inquired about the boys and such. That's a definite feel good moment I don't care who you are. I'm not a psycho stalker type fan. I do keep up via facebook, twitter, newsletter, all the happenings of several of my favorite musicians...local or otherwise. But for Susan's shows, I'll pay a babysitter, pay a cover, sit through opening acts, and will even go solo to the gigs....parking several blocks away in the cold and walking.
Her music tells a story for me. While some of the words don't fit just right to the happenings of my life...I can remember getting ready for a date while listening to this song or that song...driving on a road trip here or there, remembering who I was with at a particular show....what I was going through when this CD came out or that one....
My first "real" concert that I ever went to was at American Airlines Center in Dallas, TX. It was the Dixie Chicks. I was in my 20s. And before you think that's lame.....I've only been to 4 concerts in my life, to date....and I just turned 32. Anyway, when they played Wide Open Spaces, I remember crinkling up my nose...it wasn't the version I knew.....or that I sang. It wasn't Susan's version.
I've encountered my fair share of heartaches in my lifetime...and Not My Man is now scratched and skips when I play it.....but you know what, I can sing through the skips. I know exactly where they are on the CD. Anyone that travels in my car will get to witness (in no order) 1) some John Mayer 2) my awesome Shakira impression and 3) they will get to endure music by Susan and/or The Groobees.
I drive to Waco every other Friday and drop the kids to Kevin who lives in Dallas....and I've stopped letting people come with me on these drives because having someone sit in the passenger seat for 120 miles when all you really want to do is sing Susan Gibson all the way home, is well, just annoying. I have finally confessed this tidbit of info to my friends who became offended...."Its' not you, it's me. I just like the solitude and well, I like to sing as if no one is listening....."
My most meaningful show was last year at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe not only because she signed Kyan's baby book and the boys got to meet the voice behind the CDs we listen to in the car but because I casually made mention of my divorce and she referenced her song "Baby Teeth".....And from that second on, that song took on a whole new meaning for me.....
So, for the past year I've waited for this CD to come out. I had to go tonight. So, I paid a sitter to watch the boys, begged my brother to come so I wouldn't have to go alone, ATM'd my last $100 before my IRS refund deposits at midnight....and as a last minute mention, invited my friend Stephanie to come out. Now Stephanie and I are going to the Broken Spoke this weekend. It was a total surprise that she even listened to country type music....anyway, she agreed to come.
We arrive, I buy a CD and it doesn't contain the golden ticket. I'm a little saddened. A sinking feeling in my gut. Really?!? How could I not win? I may not be her biggest fan but a fan I am, for sure. I mean, if you were to ask my brother, he would put money on it that I was.....I mean, I even sing the guitar riffs....the bow neow, duh, nnn, doo, doos.....c'mon! I still have my Groobees sweatshirt, hat, do-rag.....how could Khaki, of all people, not win?!?! Whatever, I don't, so I go in and find the closest seat I can.
At their first break, Stephanie is toe-tappin, beer drinkin, and singing along....she goes to buy the CD. I go outside with Quincy. I tell her before I go, "If you win, it's mine." We laugh. I come back inside, she comes up to me and says, "Now, Khaki, there's just one thing.....you have to take me with you to the Thai food dinner." It dawns on me (as that's one of the perks the golden keyholder gets)............Steph won!!!!! WHAT?!?!!?! No way!!! I just introduced her to the greatness that is Susan. This is her first Susan experience. But wait, she just gave it to me!!!!!!!!! Holyfuckingshit!!!!!! No way. I don't win anything.....EVER...and while technically I didn't win this, I did.
Stephanie, my newest and closest friend....one of two (out of a total of 22 invited) that came to my birthday party, that didn't bail on me.....that eats sushi with me.....that listens to me rant about my horrid dating stories and the douchebags I continue to meet.....we won!!! Wowzie. I'm stoked.
Jana takes a picture of me, Steph, and Susan. Hello, Awesome. And we talked about Thai food. I can't wait.
Now, I just wish she had done Willin'.............that's one of my favorites that she does. In fact, she's the first person I've ever heard do that song. Quincy had to tell me it was an old Linda Ronstadt song. She did it at Saxon Pub here in Austin not that long ago and I was at that show by myself....except for the new friends I had made at the bar.....but when she belted out that song, I teared up. Love it! I didn't see it coming as it had been YEARS since I had heard her do it.
"Words make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought."
E.Y. Harburg
I love to write but I can never express my thoughts like those others have put to song. - Khaki
When I was around 14, I would sit in the living room of our condo in Amarillo, TX and I would listen to Gary Wayne and Quincy jam out acoustically song after song so many times that I can remember falling asleep many nights. Back then Gary was in a band called the Groobees. Their first CD, Flying Machine, lacked something overall....and then you'd hear it echo in the background....a female vocal....powerful....just every so often in very few songs. THEN BAM, like Emeril, here she is on their 2nd CD and then BAM here she is in the forefront of all of their shows...their chick singer....the power behind the voice and later I learned the mastermind behind a lot of their lyrics...Susan Freakin' Gibson.
She has this natural beauty about her....scuffed up boots, rugged sweater, hair down or thrown up....a beautiful soul. During my struggle with my weight, I became a huge fan searching for the confidence that she carried in conversation and on stage. Of course, my heart still with Gary Wayne and his riffs....whether electric or acoustic.....but the chick on stage that I was beginning to idolize was Susan. She's not a teeny tiny sex machine like a lot of chick singers, no. She's a good ol' homegrown lyrical genius that can play not only the guitar but so many other instruments. If only I could be like Susan.....a woman who is comfortable in her own skin...something I've never been.
I never had an interest in picking up one of my brother's guitars....too hard. But I've always loved to sing. And I would memorize her parts to all the Groobees CDs. When in Amarillo, we'd go hear them play. When in Dallas, we'd go hear them play. In fact, not even 24 hours after being released from the hospital in Dallas for having spent 7 days in the hospital with pnuemonia, I made Kevin (my now ex-husband) take me to Denton to see a show in a smoke filled bar. I had to go.
I wore these snakeskin printed vinyl pants to her show at Sons of Hermann Hall in Dallas once....and she actually asked if she could have them. Perhaps kidding....did she know I would've gladly traded her pants that day? :-)
Insert Comforts of Home off the Groobees Wayside CD....I would run a bath and jam out to this song..on repeat....hello, concert and audience of and for ONE. Me. Little did I know how that song would hit me several years later....as I became a hermit, confined to my own adventure of self destruction. Food. Avoidance. Weight gain. Disconnect. "At times it seems I just can't wait to lock my doors and hibernate...."
At a Poor David's Pub show in Dallas, I was front row with about 7 or 8 coworkers that were all there because of me and my stellar marketing skills.....I was singing at the top of my lungs...Shut This Place Down...and Susan forgot the words....looks at me as I'm mouthing every single lyric, winks, nodded, smiled, laughed...and said, "Hell I don't know the words but SHE sure does...." and I'm still convinced I cued her back on track.
Quincy used to do karaoke at his house with his sound system and all his friends and of course, the only song I would sing was Susan. He'd put on her CD, turn down the vocals and I'd wail....it always had to be Susan though.
She was at the fair in Dallas one year....oh wait, 2005 to be exact. My son, Kyan, was only a few months old and it was hot as hell. We got a picture of me holding Kyan with Susan next to us. It was one of my favorite pics ever. I put it in a baby book of his and labeled it...."Me and Mom with her all time favorite songwriters. She's famous, ya know." Then, last year, Kyan got the privilege of having her sign this book at her show in Austin at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe....
I got to meet her right hand girl, Jana, and am in just as much awe of her as I am Susan. Jana is also a good soul. You can just tell. Let's not overlook either of their talents...She engaged in conversation with me and actually inquired about the boys and such. That's a definite feel good moment I don't care who you are. I'm not a psycho stalker type fan. I do keep up via facebook, twitter, newsletter, all the happenings of several of my favorite musicians...local or otherwise. But for Susan's shows, I'll pay a babysitter, pay a cover, sit through opening acts, and will even go solo to the gigs....parking several blocks away in the cold and walking.
Her music tells a story for me. While some of the words don't fit just right to the happenings of my life...I can remember getting ready for a date while listening to this song or that song...driving on a road trip here or there, remembering who I was with at a particular show....what I was going through when this CD came out or that one....
My first "real" concert that I ever went to was at American Airlines Center in Dallas, TX. It was the Dixie Chicks. I was in my 20s. And before you think that's lame.....I've only been to 4 concerts in my life, to date....and I just turned 32. Anyway, when they played Wide Open Spaces, I remember crinkling up my nose...it wasn't the version I knew.....or that I sang. It wasn't Susan's version.
I've encountered my fair share of heartaches in my lifetime...and Not My Man is now scratched and skips when I play it.....but you know what, I can sing through the skips. I know exactly where they are on the CD. Anyone that travels in my car will get to witness (in no order) 1) some John Mayer 2) my awesome Shakira impression and 3) they will get to endure music by Susan and/or The Groobees.
I drive to Waco every other Friday and drop the kids to Kevin who lives in Dallas....and I've stopped letting people come with me on these drives because having someone sit in the passenger seat for 120 miles when all you really want to do is sing Susan Gibson all the way home, is well, just annoying. I have finally confessed this tidbit of info to my friends who became offended...."Its' not you, it's me. I just like the solitude and well, I like to sing as if no one is listening....."
My most meaningful show was last year at Patsy's Cowgirl Cafe not only because she signed Kyan's baby book and the boys got to meet the voice behind the CDs we listen to in the car but because I casually made mention of my divorce and she referenced her song "Baby Teeth".....And from that second on, that song took on a whole new meaning for me.....
So, for the past year I've waited for this CD to come out. I had to go tonight. So, I paid a sitter to watch the boys, begged my brother to come so I wouldn't have to go alone, ATM'd my last $100 before my IRS refund deposits at midnight....and as a last minute mention, invited my friend Stephanie to come out. Now Stephanie and I are going to the Broken Spoke this weekend. It was a total surprise that she even listened to country type music....anyway, she agreed to come.
We arrive, I buy a CD and it doesn't contain the golden ticket. I'm a little saddened. A sinking feeling in my gut. Really?!? How could I not win? I may not be her biggest fan but a fan I am, for sure. I mean, if you were to ask my brother, he would put money on it that I was.....I mean, I even sing the guitar riffs....the bow neow, duh, nnn, doo, doos.....c'mon! I still have my Groobees sweatshirt, hat, do-rag.....how could Khaki, of all people, not win?!?! Whatever, I don't, so I go in and find the closest seat I can.
At their first break, Stephanie is toe-tappin, beer drinkin, and singing along....she goes to buy the CD. I go outside with Quincy. I tell her before I go, "If you win, it's mine." We laugh. I come back inside, she comes up to me and says, "Now, Khaki, there's just one thing.....you have to take me with you to the Thai food dinner." It dawns on me (as that's one of the perks the golden keyholder gets)............Steph won!!!!! WHAT?!?!!?! No way!!! I just introduced her to the greatness that is Susan. This is her first Susan experience. But wait, she just gave it to me!!!!!!!!! Holyfuckingshit!!!!!! No way. I don't win anything.....EVER...and while technically I didn't win this, I did.
Stephanie, my newest and closest friend....one of two (out of a total of 22 invited) that came to my birthday party, that didn't bail on me.....that eats sushi with me.....that listens to me rant about my horrid dating stories and the douchebags I continue to meet.....we won!!! Wowzie. I'm stoked.
Jana takes a picture of me, Steph, and Susan. Hello, Awesome. And we talked about Thai food. I can't wait.
Now, I just wish she had done Willin'.............that's one of my favorites that she does. In fact, she's the first person I've ever heard do that song. Quincy had to tell me it was an old Linda Ronstadt song. She did it at Saxon Pub here in Austin not that long ago and I was at that show by myself....except for the new friends I had made at the bar.....but when she belted out that song, I teared up. Love it! I didn't see it coming as it had been YEARS since I had heard her do it.
"Words make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought."
E.Y. Harburg
I love to write but I can never express my thoughts like those others have put to song. - Khaki
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Sick, Sicker, Sickest
Here I am sick....coughing, sweats, chills, fever, congestion, coughing turned hacking up a lung or two......aches....and have to go to work tomorrow. So, me and the boys were all sick this weekend and it was the worst weekend we've had in a long time. They weren't supposed to be here this weekend but due to weather in Dallas, we did not do the exchange. God, I hope Kevin wasn't bullshitting about not being able to drive to get the boys because its been hell.
Now, if there's anywhere I want my babies to be when they're sick, it's home with me. But have you ever had to care for 3 little ones when YOU feel like shit? It sucks. On top of the living room flooding and these big loud fans everywhere, carpet ripped up, maintenance coming in and out.....blah!!!!
As soon as one kid is up and at 'em, I have 2 down....and vice versa.....I'd turn on the air only for them to want heat....and it just sucked. I didn't even feel like cooking....I just wanted to lay. I took probably 4 or 5 showers each day because laying around just makes me feel nasty. I did keep up w/ most of the laundry....but I'm so ready to feel better.
Now, I cussed Kevin a lot this weekend. While he's in his nice little 3 bedroom home w/ his white trash girlfriend taking care of him.....trust me, he's a pussy when he's sick, I know. I took care of his ass for 12 years when he was sick....at any rate, while he's resting and probably sleeping uninterrupted...I'm not....and neither are his boys....so here we all are sick. When do I get to take a sick day from being a Mom? I was just sick w/ this crud a few weeks ago too when I had the boys 3 weeks straight. Had a steroid shot, meds, and a sick kid then too. I need a break.
Tomorrow Kevin comes to town for court and I've sent him a text that he needs to pick up the boys from my mom's and take them to the doctor. I'm sure he'll say some shit like, "I have to get back so I can get to bed to go to work" and that is going to royally piss me off. He can pull a late night drive to help me with the boys for one fucking day.
Kevin has no clue. NO clue....what life for me is like and I just get pissed off at him when I think about it.
And so cheers to being sick and getting well. Lord, I hope this string of bad is going to leave soon. All in favor of March turning 2011 around say Yay. Yay.
Now, if there's anywhere I want my babies to be when they're sick, it's home with me. But have you ever had to care for 3 little ones when YOU feel like shit? It sucks. On top of the living room flooding and these big loud fans everywhere, carpet ripped up, maintenance coming in and out.....blah!!!!
As soon as one kid is up and at 'em, I have 2 down....and vice versa.....I'd turn on the air only for them to want heat....and it just sucked. I didn't even feel like cooking....I just wanted to lay. I took probably 4 or 5 showers each day because laying around just makes me feel nasty. I did keep up w/ most of the laundry....but I'm so ready to feel better.
Now, I cussed Kevin a lot this weekend. While he's in his nice little 3 bedroom home w/ his white trash girlfriend taking care of him.....trust me, he's a pussy when he's sick, I know. I took care of his ass for 12 years when he was sick....at any rate, while he's resting and probably sleeping uninterrupted...I'm not....and neither are his boys....so here we all are sick. When do I get to take a sick day from being a Mom? I was just sick w/ this crud a few weeks ago too when I had the boys 3 weeks straight. Had a steroid shot, meds, and a sick kid then too. I need a break.
Tomorrow Kevin comes to town for court and I've sent him a text that he needs to pick up the boys from my mom's and take them to the doctor. I'm sure he'll say some shit like, "I have to get back so I can get to bed to go to work" and that is going to royally piss me off. He can pull a late night drive to help me with the boys for one fucking day.
Kevin has no clue. NO clue....what life for me is like and I just get pissed off at him when I think about it.
And so cheers to being sick and getting well. Lord, I hope this string of bad is going to leave soon. All in favor of March turning 2011 around say Yay. Yay.
Younger, I think not.
Ok, so I promised this note a few days ago. I have never dated a younger guy until after my divorce (almost 2 years ago). The youngest guy I had dated up to that point was actually 12 days older than me. Does anyone remember Nick Hilleary? Ok, stop. Let's carry on.
I have gone out with a few guys in the past 6-7 months that were younger than I was. I know I've had some life experiences that have made me smarter and wiser than most but come on, really? These age differences are merely 3-4 years, not 10+. Isn't there a point in adulthood where age really doesn't matter? I know I have several dear girl friends and our age differences don't matter at all.
To save time, because trust me, this one guy in particular isn't worth the time I'm spending on this note/blog...I will paraphrase.
If I travel to Houston to see you, don't assume I'm spending the night. And I have no desire for black satin sheets with gold trim even if I did stay the night. At 28 years old, I just think a guy who is "ready to find the right girl and take life seriously" should know a few things about impressing a lady....first of all, the shot glass collection next to the lava lamp in your room.....they need to go. You don't have to get rid of them but let's save them in a box somewhere and we'll bust them out at a barbeque in the summer or something...or we'll teach the boys how to juggle with them. Yes, I said lava lamp...purple and orange...and I'm all for keeping things "old school" but that's like an old Pac Man game or something...not the ENTIRE collection of VHS ever made....and if you have to take 20 minutes to clear your entire internet history/cache just so I can log into class and post a discussion real quick, there might be issues in our future....I mean really.
If you want to cook for me, fine, fabulous, great, but I'm not worth a lot of effort given my reduced stomach capacity. And furthermore, me + food network = besties. Just know that I'm fine with Whataburger at 11pm if it means you are about to take some chicken leg quarters you got on sale and "have to cook before they go bad" or if you have to ask me, "do these smell okay?" before you put them in a skillet, there are probably better options. Sweetie, don't add the package gravy mix to the raw chicken in the skillet. Oh and this is like date #3-ish (first without mutual friends/family).....we're still in the impress stage!!!! Asking me to help you cook (when, honestly, I can't tell wtf you're doing and am not sure its cooking anyway) and then telling me how to make instant mashed potatoes, isn't making me like you more. Thank God, I brought my own bottle of wine.
Oh and those playlists you have playing in your room, those titled "For the Ladies #1" and "They want more" need some tweeking. I will say , "Sure Thing"..was okay but that's because I have a lame gene and happen to like Kenny G but wouldn't say he's your golden ticket to those satin sheets.
Rewind to earlier in the day when we were shopping, I think it's great that you were trying to help me finish up my shopping for my boys knowing I don't have many kid-free weekends but when we walk into Toys R Us and you have to ask me, "Why are there kids screaming in here?".....we should probably go home....or you should...then 3 times, asking me for Excedrin because its on your nerves, just know that I will never let you around my kids...especially Kasyn.
And for some reason, that thumb ring you wear, really bothers me. But not as much as the drunk text you sent me New Year's Eve that I can't even repeat on here. That has got to be one of the most degrading, disgusting texts I have ever received...and trust me, I receive them often. And when I tell you this, you laugh rather than apologize? When I said, "Perhaps we aren't compatible. I wish you the best." And you come back with, "Whatever, I have time, money, and a career"......uh huh. Is this where I was supposed to engage in the "one-up" game?
And for the record, yes, it was very weird to ask the 10 year old boy to take a picture of us at the ice skating rink and then use it as your fb profile the second I left town. Weird-o
And dating older wasn't all that great either. The older guy I dated was like 8 years older and a complete ass. I'm not saying age defines the general species or gender....I'm saying I haven't had luck with the few that I've dated younger or older.
But yay for entertaining stories to share with my single friends who should be cautious and my married friends who should be grateful they aren't missing out on anything.
I really want to attach the picture from the skating rink but I'm going to have to save that for the blog. I've already had to block this from a few people. :-D
This was originally from an event back in December but posted to fb Jan. 20, 2011.
I have gone out with a few guys in the past 6-7 months that were younger than I was. I know I've had some life experiences that have made me smarter and wiser than most but come on, really? These age differences are merely 3-4 years, not 10+. Isn't there a point in adulthood where age really doesn't matter? I know I have several dear girl friends and our age differences don't matter at all.
To save time, because trust me, this one guy in particular isn't worth the time I'm spending on this note/blog...I will paraphrase.
If I travel to Houston to see you, don't assume I'm spending the night. And I have no desire for black satin sheets with gold trim even if I did stay the night. At 28 years old, I just think a guy who is "ready to find the right girl and take life seriously" should know a few things about impressing a lady....first of all, the shot glass collection next to the lava lamp in your room.....they need to go. You don't have to get rid of them but let's save them in a box somewhere and we'll bust them out at a barbeque in the summer or something...or we'll teach the boys how to juggle with them. Yes, I said lava lamp...purple and orange...and I'm all for keeping things "old school" but that's like an old Pac Man game or something...not the ENTIRE collection of VHS ever made....and if you have to take 20 minutes to clear your entire internet history/cache just so I can log into class and post a discussion real quick, there might be issues in our future....I mean really.
If you want to cook for me, fine, fabulous, great, but I'm not worth a lot of effort given my reduced stomach capacity. And furthermore, me + food network = besties. Just know that I'm fine with Whataburger at 11pm if it means you are about to take some chicken leg quarters you got on sale and "have to cook before they go bad" or if you have to ask me, "do these smell okay?" before you put them in a skillet, there are probably better options. Sweetie, don't add the package gravy mix to the raw chicken in the skillet. Oh and this is like date #3-ish (first without mutual friends/family).....we're still in the impress stage!!!! Asking me to help you cook (when, honestly, I can't tell wtf you're doing and am not sure its cooking anyway) and then telling me how to make instant mashed potatoes, isn't making me like you more. Thank God, I brought my own bottle of wine.
Oh and those playlists you have playing in your room, those titled "For the Ladies #1" and "They want more" need some tweeking. I will say , "Sure Thing"..was okay but that's because I have a lame gene and happen to like Kenny G but wouldn't say he's your golden ticket to those satin sheets.
Rewind to earlier in the day when we were shopping, I think it's great that you were trying to help me finish up my shopping for my boys knowing I don't have many kid-free weekends but when we walk into Toys R Us and you have to ask me, "Why are there kids screaming in here?".....we should probably go home....or you should...then 3 times, asking me for Excedrin because its on your nerves, just know that I will never let you around my kids...especially Kasyn.
And for some reason, that thumb ring you wear, really bothers me. But not as much as the drunk text you sent me New Year's Eve that I can't even repeat on here. That has got to be one of the most degrading, disgusting texts I have ever received...and trust me, I receive them often. And when I tell you this, you laugh rather than apologize? When I said, "Perhaps we aren't compatible. I wish you the best." And you come back with, "Whatever, I have time, money, and a career"......uh huh. Is this where I was supposed to engage in the "one-up" game?
And for the record, yes, it was very weird to ask the 10 year old boy to take a picture of us at the ice skating rink and then use it as your fb profile the second I left town. Weird-o
And dating older wasn't all that great either. The older guy I dated was like 8 years older and a complete ass. I'm not saying age defines the general species or gender....I'm saying I haven't had luck with the few that I've dated younger or older.
But yay for entertaining stories to share with my single friends who should be cautious and my married friends who should be grateful they aren't missing out on anything.
I really want to attach the picture from the skating rink but I'm going to have to save that for the blog. I've already had to block this from a few people. :-D
This was originally from an event back in December but posted to fb Jan. 20, 2011.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)