Let's play 'Hipster or Not?'

So I woke up yesterday morning luxuriating in the thought of having a Sunday off. A Sunday that came after a Saturday off. A Saturday that started off with a cute boy bringing me coffee in bed. Coffee that he made, even. There are worse ways to start a Sundae. Or a Sunday, even.

Of course, it was at this point that I looked over at my laundry pile and realized that it was now taller than me - no mean feat, my friends, as I am a towering 5'3". Towering, I say. I spent a solid 5.3 minutes pondering my choices - go buy new undiepants or actually do the laundry.

Weighing on my decision, of course, was the fact that I'm kinda broke. Also, I'm pretty sure I heard the laundry trying to lure the cat into the pile in the middle of the night. She's kinda plump, you see, and I'm sure would make a tasty tidbit when doused with buffalo sauce and blue cheese. Since I do honestly like my cat, I piled little Pearl (my trusty l'automobile) full with dirty delicates and set off to take care of bidness.

Now, I live in a fairly... eclectic neighbourhood. It's got cafes and restaurants and whatnot, but it borders on a fairly rough, lower class part of town. I wouldn't give it up for anything that didn't include an ocean view, a pool, and a cabana boy. Rawr.

Anyhoo, so I'm busy commandeering washing machines when this fellow walks in sporting a Magnum PI worthy porn 'stache, satiny shortyshorts, a bomber jacket, and a vintage ball cap. Tube socks pulled up, kicks. I ask myself - hipster, caught in an era I'd rather forget, or needs to do the washing worse than I do?


I kept catching myself staring at this fellow and he did bust me more than once. He may have been hoping for a love connection but manohman it was more like a horrific car accident with bodies strewn all over the highway - detached limbs and blood and gore and awful yet FASCINATING at the same time.


I tried to take a few surreptitious photos but couldn't quite do it. Seriously I'm pretty sure there's gonna be a Craigslist Missed Connections any day now, given the quality of creepster staring I was doing.


Ahhh Sundaes.

Days of Grace

So on Friday I was supposed to go to a work party thing at a club in the Gaslamp but when my work-bestie bailed the perils of navigating the San Diego equivalent of every irritating club district on the planet became too great and the smiley internet guy and I decided to stick a little closer to home.

Date three, y'all. Just sayin'.

Anyway, as longtime readers of the blog may know, I'm not the most graceful girl on the planet. I tend to drop things, bump into walls and/or doors, and fall down with a fair amount of regularity. Friday I had 2/3 of a bottle of pinot for dinner and was wearing 3 1/2" heels on some rough sidewalks. Hilarity ensued.

You know, if you define hilarity as watching me fall flat on my ass then be unable to get up because I was laughing so hard. Internet guy promptly laid down on top of me, told me it was too soon to be flat on my back, and hauled me to my feet. He is pretty sweet.

My hands are all scraped & bruised, though. So. Much. Class.

You want a piece of my heart?

It's funny. I find myself more irritated than anything by the attentions paid to me by the internet boys. Well, that's not true - there's one that I kinda keep my eye on. He's not really my type, but he's got this big goofy grin and for some reason it really makes me smile.

I'm getting used to living by myself. I've never done it before, after all - one of the side effects of having a kid at 17. I've just always had someone around.. someone in the house making noise making a mess making me happy sad angry joyful frustrated comfortable. It's not like that right now. Right now it's me & the cat. Some mornings I wake up and the silence is deafening (though, let's not kid, those are the mornings that the couchsurfer's been by and shut off the NPR). Some mornings, though, the sun is shining and I take my coffee outside and look at the boat and the trees and I feel pretty good about life.

Today's not really one of those days. I woke up and it was vancouver weather, so I miss my family. Tomorrow's my wedding anniversary (if you can call it such a thing anymore) and the architect has already told me that he took it out of his calendar won't mark it's passing even with a glass tipped to the stars.

I'm probably gonna have to get drunk with my girls.

I'm such an emotional tool.

xo

Perils and Pitfalls of Internet Dating

 So I've been doing the innerweb dating thing again, if for no other reason than I usually hang out with guys and it's hard to meet guy 2 when you are in the company of guy 1, even if guy 1 is a platonic, friendly guy . If you know what I mean. Guy 3? fuggedaboutit.

Anyhoo I've come really close to deleting my account these past couple of weeks, 'cause I've had a couple of those... shall we say.. experiences that make you question what little faith you have left in humanity.

Experience one was basically a guy trying to bully his way into my apartment so we could "get to know each other better". Luckily the couchsurfer had popped by for a visit so the presence of his car was enough to deter the creepster. Creepster let me know in no uncertain terms that the couchsurfer would have to go because the arrangement "didn't work for him". Riiigggghhhtt...

The second happened a couple of Saturdays ago. Went for dinner with this seemingly normal, if shockingly boring, guy. Not a bad time, but not what I'd consider a good time. I should have known better when I arrived and he was wearing one of those fake ed-hardy style dress shirts. Anyway, we had dinner, I dropped him off at his house (he didn't have a car), and he tried to kiss me goodnight. I declined the chance (again, boring). We made the 'let's do this again' noises - he said the following saturday and I said yeah maybe, let's keep in touch. We never kept in touch, I forgot about it, and that was that.

Well until Friday when he started ringing my mobile. I just didn't pick up - I had a really busy week at work, had already made plans for the weekend and, as I said, was NOT interested.  So Monday rolls around and I was thinking of firing off a note to apologize for not getting back to him and clarifying my lack of interest when into my inbox fires this horribly offensive email from this douche - basically calling me a loser and insulting my appearance and all sorts of other great things. Clearly intended to make me feel crappy. Helloooo Monday. I replied to call him an asshole and praise my luck at dodging a bullet with the crazy then promptly filtered his email to go directly to my trash.

Yesterday I opened my trash to find something and there's a WHACK of emails from this guy. Since I'm not really a glutton for punishment, I didn't open any of them but I did happen to see the preview for the last - the gist was basically how I'd totally missed out because he's got a giant cock.

However will I go on.

Anyway, I didn't delete the account and went on a perfectly lovely date with an interesting apparently sane human being, so while my faith is .. not restored, per se,  I've welcomed it back into the playground. For now, anyway.

abandon ship

Tonight on the way home we hit up my fave tasting room for my fave beer which they have on tap oh-so-very-rarely.... Anyhoo I drank a couple, lamented the fact that my girlbits are broken to my bestie, and came home to take slutty photos. Anyone want one?

On the fritz

So I'm beginning to wonder if there's something wrong with my girlparts. Like, if I met you before and have been attracted to you, it's all good - the bits still sing and dance at your presence. However, and this is a big however, no one I meet lately can get me hot.

Like perfectly attractive people and they want me and kiss me and I'm all "yahwnnn oh hey I'm going to head home drink cheap malbec and watch top chef".

It's as though my body is living in the past and my brain is lying on a beach somewhere drinking mojitos and has forgotten that it's got a responsibility motherfucker to send shockwaves of lust through my body and help get me nekkid.

Plus I'm almost out of past seasons of Top Chef. I mean, it's not the kind of show that you can watch over and over again - there aren't that many nuances. Not like a good Danielle Steele novel, my friends, not in the least. So what's going to happen after the next guy buys me dinner and tries to get me to take my panties off and I don't have any more Top Chef to watch? I won't have Tom Colicchio's sweet smile to console me at my lack of functioning libido. I guess there's always shark week.

Also, I'm really horny.

Mace

This song, I said, makes me want to dance around my apartment in my panties. There are lots of songs that do that, he said. I know, I replied - I hate pants. Pants, he said, are the last thing I think of, when I think of you. Oh? I replied? and what's your first think? Supercute canadian rock n roll goddess, he answered. *heart*

True Confessions

So they say that confession's good for the soul. My soul could use some salvation and/or some salve, so let's get this out of the way, shall we?

1) I was on man hiatus b/c I had a really weird, uncomfortable internet date. I guess the confession is that I've been going on internet dates. Maybe the blog will get interesting again, hm?

2) The verb in that sentence is *was*.

3) I'm totally and completely addicted to Top Chef. I've watched 4 seasons in the past two weeks.

4) I'm terrified of my garbage disposal.

5) Also of escalators.

6) I keep buying underwear so I don't have to do laundry.

7) I've developed a weakness for shoes with 3.5" heels & higher. I ended up picking orders in my warehouse for 3 hours today. I can't feel my toes, but I'm sort of happy about this because I suspect that, when the feeling comes rushing back, the feeling will be pain.

8) The couchsurfer told me that the reason he doesn't want to fuck me is b/c I don't smell good. This has made me vaguely insecure about the way I smell, so when I meet you I will hope and pray that you smell me and enjoy the experience.

9) It's 8:05pm and I kind of just want to take my glass of wine to bed and watch more top chef.

10) I recently had an exceptionally filthy dream about Sam from Season Two. Look at him, though. Who wouldn't?

Sundae afternoons....

So I finally met the blogfather. He said to me.. "Do you like Elvis Costello?" I said yes, but I'm disappointed that he married Diana Krall, because I love my Canadian girls, but she's as whitebread middle america as they come. She's no Canadian girl, thrust up from the permafrost screaming for sunshine and heat and passion. She was born in.... Arizona where the temps are a steady 98 degrees all day long - not hot enough for a boil. Just hot enough for a boy band.

So yeah, I met his highness and it's probably about time 'cause there's been a few craigslist connections, but shit doesn't happen 'til it's time, right.

It's probably time.

acrobatics

So there's a comment two posts down that might be the best ever.
Can't really take it to heart, though, because a girl's gotta have hobbies and mind is self-immolation for your entertainment.

After Wednesday's epic shitty day I asked the couch surfer if he'd please spend some time with me yesterday. He's not nice and not cute but somehow he makes my head be still. He said he would, and when I got home from work he was here, but on his way out. "We'll hang out," he said, "but it'll be sandwiched between me doing something now and doing something later. I'm running myself ragged."

I told him to not wear himself out on my behalf and headed down the road to have dinner with a friend. When I got home I sent him a text... basically said that it'd be cool if he was here. Hours later he responded saying he was in the burbs and too drunk to drive. He's even giving up the pretense of wanting to hang out with me, which is fine, but it'd be cool if he quit using me as a place to crash at the same time. If I'd wanted to live with someone platonically I would have stayed married for pete's sake.

Like water for

So I was bitten by a cute, dreadlocked circus performer last night. Three times, actually - once on the arm and twice on the neck. I can't remember how it happened, exactly. I do know that she was introduced to me by a (smokin hot) acrobat as his girlfriend. He then introduced her boyfriend, and his date. I commented that the situation seemed complicated. He said "Fuck no. *Monogamy* is complicated", and then proceeded to pet me all night long.

RAWR.

I was, however, in the company of a friend, so did not go home with said acrobat or his multitude of female companions. I would be SO ok, however, if he were to find a way to find me, as we do have certain people in common.

Damn. The things we do for love.

And when I say love I mean, of course, the verb, because I've abandoned hope (all ye who enter here) of the noun.

My couchsurfer (the one who is fucking with my head) told me he loved me. I have only seen him for a few minutes here and there since that moment. This could be construed as partially my fault because I opted to spend my evening last night with circus performers and other interesting characters but, let's not kid, I didn't expect him to actually spend any time at my house yesterday. Or at all. 'Cause, you know, tonight I'm home and he's told me he's probably not coming back this evening.

Which, by the way, makes me feel like crap, even though I'm pretending really hard that it doesn't. Except for bawling my eyes out the whole way home from my walk, of course, but I was wearing sunglasses so who cares?

A choir of furies in your head

I quit taking the lexapro after one month because it's $100/ bottle and who the fuck can afford that when there are things like wine and shoes to buy? Things are blacker than black, though, and I can't get out of my head so when I went to the dr about my fire ant eyes (yes I've got fire ants in my eyes, currently; dr says it's 'pink eye', but I know it's fire ants) I asked him to give me something else & he wrote me an rX for paxil.

Came home and did some research & found that paxil makes you gain like 20lbs in the first couple of months and makes you not have any sex drive or be able to have an orgasm. 'Cause, you know, exactly what an almost-40yr old with depression &  major self esteem issues needs is 20 extra lbs.

Anyhoo, promptly decided against taking that shit. The question now, though, is what do I do? Do I call him and ask him to prescribe me something else or do I just succumb to the horror?

The previous post is kind telling 'cause I'm going through the same shit right now. Last night I heard "I love you. You are my dearest friend and the kindest person I've ever met in my life but the thing that makes it so I can't keep my hands off you is missing". A) that's the first time I've ever had a guy dump me because he *didn't* want to fuck me and B) shit how the fuck do I get myself into these situations? Like what part of me decided that it'd be ok to half fall in love with someone who only ever wants to fuck other people and who can't give me what I need & what I deserve?

And it's not as though he's conned me into this - he told me straight up that this is who he is and what I should expect. "I will hurt you", he said. And he has. A lot.  So last night he decided it couldn't go on because he doesn't want to hurt me (for the above stated reasons) and I practically begged him to continue.

I'm
So
Fucked
Up

How much damage can I do to myself before I completely self-destruct? How much pain can I take before I'm nothing but pain - banjo-plucking on each tendril sending white hot shoots through my heart? Who wants to watch?

I used to be a writer.

I kind of even remember how some days. (fr. November 3, 2005)

warning - pity part to commence in tminus seventeen seconds.

In 1915, The National Council of Teachers of English established the first week in November as Better-Speech Week. I'm not sure why this tickles my fancy, but it does. In honour of this, I shall construct one of my rare blog entries which actually conform to most of the laws of grammar - most especially capitalization.

I'm quite incapable of lucid thought today. I'm trapped in a werewolf forest constructed by my own ennui. The trees are falling and the only one who is around to hear them is me, but I'm tired of being a witness to the systematic destruction of my own faith in love and relationships and happiness. I need to call TNB and ask him to just get it over with - just say the sentence which is, inevitably, a variation of "You are the best person I know and I don't want to lose you in my life, but because of [insert random reason here] I don't think we can see each other anymore".

Do you know how many times I've heard that sentence? I'm wondering if I should try to be *less* of a better person - maybe be a bit more of a Judge Judy-style harpy. Would that be more appealing to the opposite sex? I seem to attract men who are at a crossroads in their lives. They meet me and have a lovely time - have their faith in women restored - then move on to the next one. I can't seem to shake the roll of the cool chick you shag for a while then keep around 'cause she's such a great buddy. Maybe if I were more of a selfish beeyatch guys would take me seriously and stick around.

See - you all think I'm kidding when I talk about my bright future surrounded by my cats and discarded tv-dinner trays, but I'm really quite serious. I'm losing my energy and my desire to even try anymore. 'Cause really, what's the point? It always ends with the same sentence. The only variable is how well I can pretend like it doesn't matter to me - wouldn't want to blow the charade, you know, but sometimes it's harder than others. Only you know how it takes little pieces away from my soul, how it steals the sparkle from my eyes. Only you can see the how my shadow is growing in the midday sunshine. The werewolves are circling, circling, and I'm just lying here waiting.

fuuuuu

So I'm starting off 2011 car-less, phone-less, and half in the bag over a guy who really doesn't feel more than vague affection for me.

I'm trying so hard to put a positive spin on everything. I'm trying so hard. And I'm sorry that you get to hear the shit but if I have to smile and laugh on the outside then this becomes the only place where I can curl up and cry. Well you know, except for when I'm on my 10mile walk home from a party I didn't want to attend last night.

I would like to be curled up in my bed crying, but the aforementioned gentleman is there currently. Credit to him - he did spend an hour driving around looking for me after I texted that I was walking home. Unfortunately I couldn't respond to him b/c (naturally) I lost my phone.

Happy fucking new year. 

Cleaning house

There comes a time after the end of almost every relationship (of the romantic variety) where you have to step  back, take stock, and decide whether or not that person still brings value to your life. Like after you break up and you cling to the pedestrian notion that you can still be friends. Can you? Can you really? Or are you just holding on clutching the final shreds of whatever it was you had together?

I've kind of had those moments a lot in the last couple of months - sure with the architect*  but also with the guy I was hanging out with when I was separated the first time. He's kind of a moody bitch and I quit talking to him a while ago and felt blessed utter relief at not having to deal with the drama. Yesterday he started texting me again.. said he loved me and missed talking to me. We texted back and forth for a while but sure enough it soon degraded into him admitting to something he'd been lying about to me for months, me getting pissed off & telling him so, him getting self-righteous (as though the confession should absolve him of the actual act). Do I look like the fucking catholic church? Nuh. Anyway, I'm going back to the not talking to him thing because it really REALLY was better for me. He doesn't actually bring value to my life and the more he opens his mouth the more I realize (as you do in these sorts of situations) that he's not the person I'd hoped he was.  And that's ok - you can't blame someone for being who they actually are. You can only feel sort of disappointed in yourself for not realizing it the first time they revealed themselves.

All the drunks they were singing

I'm unnaturally attached to "fairytale in new york" this holiday season. Like, I keep listening again and again, and it reaches deep inside of me and plucks on my heartstrings in ways that nothing else has been able to do this December.

Well consciously, anyway - I admit that there are moments when I encounter a random news story, or watch a commercial, or hear a song, and start bawling my eyes out. Nothing, though, nothing comes close to filling me with the sense of melancholy and *LONGING* that this frickin' pogues song does.

I'm back in my old room (rebuilt into guestroom extraordinaire), back where I started, no farther ahead than I ever was. Shit if we could drop back four years and do it all again I'd be almost exactly where I started.  That's fuct.

I'm hiding down here getting drunk by myself b/c if anyone tries to scratch below the surface of my shiny happy exterior I'll start bawling my eyes out because of how royally I've screwed up.

And I don't nec. mean the architect- seriously we didn't have sex for 5 months and you guys *KNOW* me - there's no way that could have ended in anything but tears.  I just mean in general.


Le sigh. I'm drunk. I'm sad. I'm lonely. I genuinely *really* like a boy who's probably really really really bad for me - who's a consumate con artist and who (deep down I know) is probably just practicing his own agenda for being with me. Tonight's one of those nights where I think to myself that I've spent time with the kiddo; I've spent time w/ my family.. if ever there was a moment to walk in front of a truck and put everyone out of my misery it's right now.

Everything old is new again

I've been making a big effort to get out of the house and socialize this past week & it's def. been interesting. I'm meeting a bunch of people and having my sense of desirability (sexpottiness) reaffirmed. There really is something in me that needs male attention. Always has been, I guess.

So last night I went with a friend to see a DJ show at a local lounge & was just minding my business ordering a cocktail* when the guy standing beside me started to chat at me. Turns out he was another good friend of the friend I was with. He had just returned from China so we got to talking about that & basically enjoying a decent conversation. Sadly, this did not sit well with the guy's girlfriend who is, by all reports, a lovely lovely woman. She did *not* like me though. My friend and I were puzzled & kind of amused by the whole situation. I don't want to cross this chick though - she's apparently quite the kickboxer.

Anyhoo, point to the story is that .... actually there's no real point to the story other than that my rather low self esteem was a bit bolstered by the last couple of nights. So that's cool.

*(forgot my card there - second night in a row. I'm going to have to track halfway across SD county to collect all belongings left in bars tonight. Le sigh.)

Rainy Monday

Thanks to a fairly high dose of prescription Ambien and some more than decent red wine, I've actually managed to get +6 hours of sleep the past two nights in a row. Sure I know it's prob not the most healthy approach to bedtime, but hell - I was so tired I was starting to hear voices. Sooner or later they were going to convince me to walk naked down the overpass or something equally newsworthy.

My apologies for depriving you all of the story.

The architect came in with all of the forms to fill out for divorce yesterday. I was more than a little surprised at the suddenness. I mean, sure I guess I figured it was going to happen, I just thought maybe we'd have a conversation about it or something first, you know? Like I'd get a little forewarning, not just a file folder on the kitchen table when he popped by to help me fix my closet door. He says he wants to get it all over with so we can go back to being best friends, and that he wants me to be happy. He says he wants to start dating and wants me to do the same thing.

I laughed. I'm a chubby, almost 40 loser in a state packed full of lithe blonde prom queens. I'm hardly the ideal date. He's gonna have no problem. In fact he told me that he's already got a girl that he's been talking to. I kinda suspected b/c there is one particular new face on his facebook page that rang an alarm bell for me. C'est la vie, I guess. At least my blog will get (somewhat) interesting again.

I was looking back to see if you were looking back at me

super hot bathroom shots for everyone

So last night I went to see Massive Attack & Thievery Corporation. I actually was really looking forward to MA b/c they've been my favourites for as long as I can remember, but it turns out TC kicked major ass. Not because the music was better, but because it was better suited to a live show, I guess.

The one silver lining to these past shitty weeks is that I'm losing weight like nobody's business. I've never been one of those 'can't eat when I'm distraught' people but all of a sudden I am.  I must say it's a nice change from the human hoover I usually become.

I guess eventually I'm going to have to think about dating again. There's a kettle of fish I'm really not looking forward to, believe you me. I had enough trouble when I was in my early/mid thirties finding age-appropriate men who shared similar interests with me. Now I'm 5 years older, almost 40, and still socialize like I'm 25.  Dating the puppies, though, leads to fucking pulling your hair out and stabbing yourself in the eye with a #2 pencil, so I'm kind of caught between a rock and a going to bed alone with for the rest of my life place. Le sigh.

le sigh

One of the forgotten drawbacks of being single - there's no one to help you fold the fucking fitted sheet.

I've had family here for basically the last week so just washed a veritable mountain of laundry. That's exactly how I wanted to spend my sunny sundae. Trust me. 

In other words, I have some wicked fucking insmonia. Like even the sleeping pills won't make it go away.  I've been awake since about 3am. I'm feeling pretty good about life right now - believe you me. Though the positive side to this whole thing is that I've lost six pounds. I was being chipper about that to a friend the other day because god knows you can't be chunky when you are back on the dating market. His response to me was that he didn't think I needed to worry about my 'sexpottyness'.

Say it outloud - it's a fun word. Plus it's about the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a while so there's that.