A perfect day. The Hotel Del Coronado.

For years, my dreams have been dominated by "the Del." Dozens of stories about goings-on there ignited my young imagination, especially when they were accompanied by photographs of celebrities frolicking at the pool of the Del. People getting drunk and making asses of themselves. But so what, they were at the Del. Everyone wanted to go there. I knew there had to be a reason! Celebrities partied at the Hearst mansion too, but this was somehow different. I couldn't put my finger on it because I grew up in the midwest and we went to Flinstone Village and Worlds of Fun. No way in hell would my dad be able to stand me and my brother clear to CA.

But now the Hotel Del isn't so far away. Heracles and I had one last hoorah there. He had heard me mention it a few times. Initially we were just going to see it, but last minute Heracles sprang for a night. We had the WHOLE day before, too.

All I can say is that this place is heaven on earth for my type. You know the type. Nostalgic. Romantic but wouldn't admit it. Yeah. So every little inch of the Del mesmerized me. Heracles, usually so aloof and unimpressed, left a huge fan. A little something for everyone, I guess!

We walked and walked. We marveled at all the cute little creatures crawling in the water on the beach. We admired the beauty of the midday horizon, the sunset and the stars. We pronounced the main building itself stunning in the pains it must take to preserve.

Just about every photo I took became postcard material. Usually that's next to impossible, but not in the charmed presence of the Del.

Even the view from my room was gorgeous. You cannot BE there, and FIND a view that is not beautiful. Believe me. Heracles, in his determined objectivity, tried and failed.

We were in one of the shops.
I found a book called "Beautiful Stranger." It is some story about a woman who died there. It's full of inconsistencies, melancholy and mystery. Oh yeah. We chuckled. WTF $24 for this flipping book that has fake turn-of-the-century photographs of some "beautiful stranger" checking in and looking all introspective all over the place????? We were both disgusted. Paaaaaaleeeeease. Who do they think we are? Oh, looooook here. She haunts the place, what a fucking surprise. Screeeew you guys, aren't you already making enough money off us with the price of the freaking roooom?

We continued our journey of enchantment through the shops, to the beach, all over town and then back to the room for some good wine ( oh yeah we got a great deal on Frog's Leap. It was a mistake and you won't find that liquor store owner making that mistake again), and good looooove. Well love is a strong word. Passion. Then sleep!

Then. It's 12:57 am. I know that because Heracles keeps meticulous track of important details involving numbers. I am awakened from my blissful sleep by some sort of noise. Because I was asleep, I assumed that it was the alarm on my phone. It's always set for 3:30am because that's when I wake up. Even on my days off, because I never remember to turn it off until it actually GOES off. Heracles HATES my alarm. Immediately I felt around for my phone. I pressed the usual button. Still heard the noise. Then I realized that it was not an alarm. It was a freaking DIAL TONE. It was right next to me on the desk by my side of the bed in our sumptious room. I opened my eyes and before me was Heracles, wide-eyed and frozen, O-shaped mouth. I turned over. The room telephone was on speakerphone. I pressed the speakerphone button. No interruption whatsoever. I picked up the handle and set it down. Nothing happened. I unplugged all the cords I could feel. Still, the dial tone persisted.

WTF I said. Heracles hadn't ever heard me say F but whatever. He was still frozen anyway. I got out of bed and switched on the lamp, which was on the other side of the desk. The sound disappeared. I regarded the phone, disjointed and surly, looking back at me as if my assault would cost me big time. I plugged the various cords back into their ports.

I said, "WHAT was that." H: I don't know. Me: Nobody will believe us, we might as well go back to sleep. H: ok. that was weird. Me: yeah well whatever.

I got in bed and thought not much of it. Probably I was still a little buzzed and I know I was exhausted. All of a sudden I feel Heracles spooning me. What? Heracles? Who cannot stand even being touched accidentally late at night? Heracles, who, if he were my sibling and we were 12, would draw an imaginary line and advise me that this is his side and this is my side? This person is SPOONING me????

"Hey, Heracles, what is up here?"
"I don't know."
"What you are ready to go again? I need to get me a ghost of my own at home!"
Heracles laughs nervously and turns over, so now I'm being nestled by his bony butt. Little bit of change of plans I guess.
"You watch your side, I'll watch mine," he instructs.
sigh.

Made for a fun story though. And added to the charm!!! Make sure you stay in the main building is all I have to say.

From hero to McNair-do-well in an instant

It matters not how great a player he was.

Nor does it make a difference that he gave craploads of cash to various charities throughout the years.

What is really important for everybody, especially for all of you cocky professional athletes, is that who you are in your personal life is MORE important than your stupid game. That's right, it's a stupid GAME. Life is not a game. When you treat it like it is a game, these types of things happen.

Steve McNair's buddies are talking about his "legacy." They would encourage the public to think only of "the good things." Sorry guys. You can do whatever you want in public as a superstar, but if you want to leave a lasting legacy, you have to put those children of yours FIRST. You don't go ROLLING around town buying Escalades for people you don't even know except that they are twenty years younger than you.

You take care of your family by spending holidays with them, no matter how much you can't stand to be around them. You don't humiliate your wife and children by having your life ended so senselessly. Because that, my friends, will be Steve McNair's legacy. His death. His sons are going to have to live with what their father has left behind. There is the tragedy. When will these idiots ever learn?

So how about we leave out that hero garbage? Steve McNair was not a hero. It is impossible to be a hero when you are a jerk. Money doesn't buy class and it definitely doesn't buy a legacy. Thing is, all he had to do in order to maintain that status of a hero, was just be a good husband! But noooooo, he can't do that can he? He has to throw money around and rent condos with his buddies for use as a bachelor pad of sorts. Life doesn't have to be that complicated, dudes. Be content with your wife and kids. That won't make you a hero, but it will make you a man. When will that be good enough?

I still celebrated.

Of course I am far from complaining about working yesterday because I know that soon I might be jobless. I narrowly missed getting laid off a couple months ago, and chances are good that in October my time will be up.

But who wants to talk about work when it's July 4th weekend?

Yesterday when I got home, I was exhausted and crabby so I flopped down and opened my Netflix envelope. Oh crap, I thought. Why don't you pay more attention to that damn queue. Because staring back at me was the Dixie Chicks movie, Shut Up and Sing.
I think I may have been drunk when I added it, but that's just a guess. Since that's all there was to watch, I watched it. And it was such a wonderful reminder to me of why we celebrate July 4th, and why we must always speak our minds, no matter what others think. That is the essence of freedom.

Natalie Maines said that she was ashamed that GWB was from Texas. She was terrorized by AMERICANS who didn't like it. I guess if you are a public figure, you are expected to censor yourself for the sake of other people's jobs to some extent. I can see where tact might be in order. But Maines is a young lady with a mind and a mouth, and if it had been a man, any man speaking, nobody would have paid any attention. Remember when Kanye West stared dazed at the camera and said, "George Bush hates black people." He got attention but nobody threatened to kill him. Nobody "boycotted" his music, although I perhaps most of those who would have been offended on GWB's behalf don't give two farts about West's music anyhow. He probably sold MORE records because of his snafu.

We are a nation of hypocrites. We don't want any little blond southern "chick" to trot herself out around the world unless she damn well says what is expected of her by her audience. Which was largely blond southern chicks. Did they really think all that energy used on spewing hatred towards her would pay off? Did these "Americans" truly expect Maines to represent THEM? Dears, don't compare yourselves to Natalie Maines. Admit it, you've always been jealous of her. Funny thing is, the Dixie Chicks' music is marketable in places other than Texas. How about this, all of you yellow roses. When any of you sell out arenas all over the world, think very hard about what you say when you are standing in front of thousands of people who have a different perspective, because your little world isn't popular anywhere except your little world. Oh, right. Which brings me back to the fact that you probably never will sell out arenas all over the world because you are homely and you don't have an opinion until Sara Palin tells you what her husband thinks. For God's sake, stay in Texas and shut up.

A Visitor for Minchie and Kitty

It is that time of year again, when the temp soars to the one hundred-teens. My deluxe 1948 model home is "cooled" by an energy efficient evap cooler. As in swamp. Today, it happens to be humid as well as hot. This ensures that the strategically placed fans provide such relief as I had forgotten was possible since the summer of 1996 when my old Mazda B2000 truck overheated at least once a day, usually at the hottest time and even when I turned the heater on.

Kitty and Minchie have been suffering in silence. Minchie has found a spot for repose behind the toilet. Kitty's territory is always in front of any fan that's blowing and of course beneath all beds. Plus the bathtub. And the kitchen.... Ok, anywhere except behind the toilet.

Since my swamp cooler unit's door thingies are corroded shut, I broke down and called a mobile groomer to treat each of them to a spa day.

This girl was great! I can't say enough about her. The best part about all was that she had her own van, so none of the hairy evidence of my neglect could be seen. All that was left when she was finished, were two closely sheared and much cooler pets.

I was astonished at how skinny Kitty looks. She eats all the time, and I feed her Blue Buffalo for cryingoutloud. The groomer said that she is very healthy for a cat who is 18, but I don't know.

The Great Divide

I have lived in this house for almost two years. During that time, the only internet available to me was via unsanctioned usage at work. Every few months we all receive the old email about how terrible it is to use the internet for purposes other than those related to the job. I have been fairly prudent. I never saw any of that "leave Britney alone" nonsense, although I followed the saga via TMZ daily. Is TMZ a blog? I can't tell. I hope not. I'm not supposed to be visiting blogs. So naturally I stayed away from my own, although I did ache to mention what was going on .

What was going on? We have Heracles. Well, we had him. We lost him. He moved to a nice, very lucrative city far away from here. He had already committed to the transfer before we met. Stupidly I know, I did not stop myself from falling for him even though I knew very well that he was moving in a year.

A 36 Y.O. woman must be totally out of her mind for choosing to put herself through such an exercise, but I did it. He told me a few weeks ago that he "would be willing to give it a try" long distance.

How the hell, I ask, how the HELL am I going to get myself MARRIED and YES Heracles, PREGNANT when we live 2,000 miles away from one another? Oh, me, oh me, oh ME! I can answer that! I'm NOT. So when I dropped the gentleman off at the airport this morning I gave him a disinterested roll of the eye, wary of his last-minute attention to the subject of our ambiguous relationship when he looked dead at me and said, "I'll probably be back for a day or two in a month." My man.

Then he texted me all day long while I tried to contain my despair since like everyone else around here I can get RIFed at the slightest whim of my supervisor. "Wow, that was a terrible flight. Smelly people everywhere." I give a fuck? Well he's Heracles isn't he? Shouldn't I?

He was everything I was looking for, I thought. Great career. Darling to behold. Entertainingly neurotic and selfish. How cute. Opposite of X except for ONE little detail. I do not factor into the list of top priorities. As a woman conscious of her true value, I didn't presume to come in anywhere near first but golly gee damn I sure wish I would have figured in closeby. I have been a stupid cow and I know it. Will I ever let it happen again? Probably because have you ever met a stupid cow who learned her lesson? Hells no. We don't learn anything. We just make this magic happen over and over again and honestly it is in no way the man's fault. We stupid cows train them to think the way they do.

So that's the latest. I truly hope I can get over Heracles quickly because for someone who would dearly love a family, I can't seem to find a partner with whom to start one. I guess I never will.

I'm on fire...

Just kidding. I figured I'd update since 10 or 12 people in the world (who don't know me but are still addicted to this soap opera) keep checking to see what I've gotten myself into.

Well, never fear. I'm still lonely and dreaming.

I have been dating someone. I call him Heracles. Is he Heracles? Use your imagination, I do!

He is intelligent and appreciates my unimpressive sense of humor, which is nothing more than sarcasm masqued as naivete.

X is still in my soul and he haunts me. Did my dreams really cause his dreams to die? Perhaps. I don't want to make that mistake again. Ever.

So with Heracles I am expecting nothing.

But someone like Heracles is too demi-perfect to expect anything less. He's Heracles, right?

Dating debacle with Heracles

Saturday night I met Heracles at a trendy restaurant/bar. We sat outside on the patio and had a great time chatting. When we parted to walk to our respective cars, he threw out a casual goodbye. I had invited him to go to a convention that I had free tickets for, and he seemed halfway interested.

Sunday rolled around, and I was caught up with some work which caused me to delay meeting at the convention. When we arrived, it was closing up. Heracles was unimpressed with my lack of planning and nonchalantly said, "See ya later MH." Yeah right, I thought.

I immediately switched gears and drove directly to a smallish new grocery store near my house. It was refreshing to discover their selection of cheap bottled wine. Knowing that I might require one within hours, I loaded my arm basket up with the cheapest of them all. My cell phone rang. On the other end was an overexcited friend, wondering how my DATE with HERACLES turned out.

I launched into a caustic impersonation of Heracles going, "Seee ya leeeeater, MH" rolling my eyes as if I were an oaf without any ability to keep my tongue in my mouth. I grumbled, "I'll never hear from THAT guy again. Next!"

I was also half-heartedly considering a bottle with a pretty label and a higher price when the chilling feeling of being watched crept up my neck. Some dude was staring at me from the end of the aisle. I turned my back, flipping my hair in concert with it and rolled my eyes again, hoping my "Move on, bucko" message transmitted properly. Dude didn't notice and walked towards me. I filled my friend in on the developments all up in the aisle here. "Keep moving, friend," I joked to her as the blurred form of Dude strolled past.

Seconds later, I heard, "MH!" I looked. It was Heracles. Incredulous, I said, "What are you doing here?" He had a bottle of apple cider vinegar and some vitamin water. "I live almost across the street from here," he said.

"Because I live just down the street."
"I am literally (?) right over there, you can practically see my window."
"Yeah. Well nice to see you. Ok!"
"Ok I better go, I have LOTS of stuff to do right now."
"Ok see ya laaaaaaater."

Horrifying. I felt like a big old biatch for sure. Did he hear me complaining and making fun of him? I was positive he did.

Later, I received an email from him apologizing for that episode and attempting to convince me that he was NOT stalking me, even though I "probably wouldn't believe" him. So, I asked, you didn't hear my conversation? Nope, but he was sorry for interrupting it.

Whew!

We made a date for next week.

Dating Fool

A single girl can possibly have her dinner paid for every night of the week if she has the wherewithal to shower twice daily. It is a time investment, but if you are poor, it can pay off.

Myself, I have too much pride to take these men for dinner ALL the time. I pay for coffee sometimes and once or twice have paid for a meal with a guy I've been out with several times.

Anyhow, let's go down the list of these guys:

Jam-Media Relations-boring, mole on his face. Cheap. Rents an apt. No manners. Shovels food in his mouth like an elephant, and messes with the lemon in his water.
Crish-engineer/pilot-perhaps has some sort of genetic defect which makes him extremely tall, but not a bad looking guy, personable, not much of a sense of humor, makes an obscene amount of money for a single guy, but is still CHEAP, athletically inclined, intelligent, naive. Kissed me on the cheek last week. Owns home, has a dog. Likes to tell stories that aren't all that funny and laughs unusually loud at them. Opens doors.
Pator-Another tall one. Same height as Crish. Works in computers. Owns home, no dog, likes to drive women out of town but I have always met him at locations. Speaks with a German accent but knows a bunch of languages. Laughs at my jokes and lets me talk all I want, apparently has no desire to say much. Probably makes slightly more than me, but according to Zillow, his house isn't worth more than mine. So there. Very much a gentleman. When we were at the coffee shop getting tea the other day, I mentioned that I like honey with it, but there was no honey. I started to get sugar instead. But within seconds, there he was with some honey. He actually went over and ASKED for it. Impressive. Also opens doors and walks me to my car.
Heracles-Sigh. Successful, tall and good looking. Not sure why he asked me out. I have been out with him only once and am in danger of seeming too eager. He is a reluctant door opener, didn't walk me to my car, so intelligent it's intimidating, not an exercise maniac thank God, and I suspect that he's just as CHEAP as Crish. Sigh. Probably won't call me. I've been gaining weight with all these meals out, but please sweet baby Jesus don't make me date an exercise maniac!
Some other guy-I think he's some type of sexual predator, so I high-tailed it out of the restaurant and hope never to see him again. ech.
Sal-Another engineer. We'll see.
Phil-Pharmacy. We'll see.

I started running again today because my gut is starting to spill out of my jeans lately.

The Fountainhead - a classic

The Fountainhead is history because he simply stopped calling yours truly. I can't figure out what it was, but I suspect he took one look at my house and it's endless "projects" aka deconstruction, and decided that I was only looking for someone to help out with necessary upgrades. Which would not be an unfair assumption. I'd LIKE someone to come over here and update the wiring. And the a/c. And do something about the baseboards. And then but in a couple base cabinets in the kitchen. No bid deal! But whatev. Thus far I have not had much experience dealing with rejection so it's good that I get used to it now that I'm headed into my mid-late thirties. It's probably only going to get more harrowing from here on out. But I really liked him. I was really attracted to him, and my knees do not weaken easily. Like I said. Whatev.

The Fountainhead was hot. He was a man. But he was arrogant and selfish. And he likes capers. I don't like capers. And I'm not a big sports fan, plus he keeps his dogs outside all day. I'd never do that.

Ok. So I've been dating a real life rocket scientist, who is ultra-intellectual but no sense of humor. He looks like a VERY tall Ron Howard. He is the stereotypical professional online dater. Surprise surprise, he is an avid: mountainbiker, hiker, traveler, and wine taster. Yeah. Nice guy though. Has his script down pat.

Also a sports writer who also has no sense of humor and a big mole on his cheek. But was very nice and I could probably draw the sense of humor out of him after a year or two of needling without mercy. Lookswise, he reminds me of a blond Joseph Smith, the guy who dreamt up the mormon church in a schizophrenic episode I mean revelation....

The Fountainhead looks like Gary Cooper coincidentally, but whatev. I don't care. He's REALLY missing OUT! He could be putting my baseboards in right now, what is he thinking??? Dummy.

Whatever happened to Jonathan Richman?

I have missed him ever since his last crappy album.

We need more old Jonathan.
Even though he shot me down in Chicago one time when I asked for "YO Tango" rather than "JO Tango." I forgive you. I had bigger fish to fry. Some young heifers were trying to elbow in front of me, which we all know is not cool. It's ok. I listened to the stupid spanish version of Vampire Girl instead.

Shed some light?

Fountainhead strikes again

LE SIGH.

Before subjecting myself to a holiday at my brother's zoo of a household on this beautiful national holiday, I must record this beautiful memory from yesterday.

I received a text from my new obsession, The Fountainhead. AKA Best Kisser Ever. It said, "Hey sorry to bother you at work. I don't leave til 10:30 pm. Didn't know if you wanted to grab some food or coffee before I leave?"

Didn't know? How could he not know? Did he not kiss The Rules right out of me the other day?

Of course I can't be stoic to The Fountainhead, so I replied with a bubbly acceptance of his invite.

First of all, it came as a huge surprise that he even wanted to see me again. I thought for sure he was finished with the likes of MH after my shocking inability to act like an adult last time I saw him. Second of all, he's leaving town for a week and he is actually making time for ME?? It doesn't make sense.

We had a great meal at a little local mom/pop place in my neighborhood. We had an hour to spare before he had to leave, so I showed him all of the wonderful improvements I've made to my house. He had lots of manly suggestions and used all sorts of manly home improvement words, which I have to admit was very exciting.

When he left, he bestowed upon me another long, wonderful, blinding smooch.

100% MAN!!!!!

I like that. I'd like more.

X kissed fine, I don't have any complaints.
X before him, again. No complaints.
Outdoorsman I think was covered but if not, I'll have to go back and make sure I do, because he was just - oh, terrible!

I have finally, after all these years, experienced a blissful kiss.

Kissing was alright. Whatev.

Then last night, the Fountainhead treated me to a lovely meal and engaging conversation. I was sort of listening to what he said, but mostly I stared at him like a zombie because he's so damn good LOOKING. He intimidates me, he's so good looking. After din din, we stood around outside my car, since we did meet at the restaurant. We chatted for awhile about nothing really. Finally, the Fountainhead said, "Sooooo, do I get a kiss tonight?"

Calm, cool, collected me goes, "YES!" and OMGWTF. Like I said, it has never happened to me before. My brain became mush, my legs almost buckled. Kissing this man was THAT amazing. I would have loved to kiss him all night, but by the time I recovered from my temporary, pleasure-filled coma, I realized that I was just standing there, not even kissing him back. Because I couldn't move. I can't remember what all was said after that. The whole thing has become a blur.

I'm sure the Fountainhead wasn't all that impressed with my performance but honestly, if he does not call me when he gets back into town, I'll still be a happy woman, because now I know what it's like to have my socks knocked off.

So thanks Fountainhead, you are the man of my dreams. While this state of euphoria probably won't last because you are so far out of my league, I would not trade that kiss for a million Johnny Depps!!!!!

The new and improved man

Thankfully, I don't have time to mess around for long with guys like Outdoorsman. Case closed.

Up next is my new favorite. I have dubbed him The Fountainhead because he looks just like Gary Cooper to me, and he is a REAL man who I think does not like to mess around either! I'm pretty sure if he saw a snake sitting there rattling at me, The Fountainhead would know how to handle the situation.

He charmed me for a few hours last night over some micro brew. I did not talk much about the prospect of this date to friends, disgusted with the lighthearted jokes at my expense. I was going to show EVERYONE that I could do a much better job setting myself up on dates than any of them can do. Outdoorsman ruined this claim and it was almost back to blind dates for me.

But then came The Fountainhead. He is the perfect specimen of a man. Today I gushed about how wonderful he is to a friend. She said, "Okay, so what did he do wrong, come on!" I couldn't think of anything. There was nothing wrong with my Fountainhead, how dare she even imply that there would be. She was shocked and actually, so am I.

I realize that it is nice to have something nice to say. But it is a shock, that's true.

The Fountainhead is HOT.

He has dreamy eyes.

He keeps his head pretty much shaved, the way I LIKE it.

He has a house and some dogs.

His hands are used for work.

He has an easy smile and most importantly

He has interesting things to say.

I know, you are probably wondering, "Huh? This great guy sounds perfect! What's he doing single and WHAT is he doing on a date with YOU, MH?"

Those are questions which must be researched more closely at a later date, but today I'm just happy he broke down and called. I bit off all of my finally feminine-looking nails wondering what he thought about my inappropriate stares and clumsy walk.

Protecting the fragile male ego

Brother says I would be doing Outdoorsman a favor by telling him everything I can't stand about him. Friends are divided between 1. none of my concern what his problems are, and 2. try to be helpful without hurting his feelings.

Damn! Do men ever spare OUR feelings? No way. They either tell us what they can't stand about us, which is usually rooted in their unrealistic expectations based on pornography and pop culture, OR they just ignore us and we have no idea why we are being rejected, which is probably best anyway due to the former reason.

Anyhow I did my best to spare Outdoorsman's feelings.

First I tried the "We are not compatible" reason. Most of the time it's not a surprise because people can usually tell if they don't share goals or interests. But no, not Outdoorsman. "How aren't we compatible? I want to change! I'm ready to move on I just don't know which direction! I KNOW you are the one, what do I have to do?"

Next I tried using an example, like his recent purchase of a motorcycle. "Well I only got it so I could go to your house more often. I'll get rid of it tomorrow. It's gone!" I attempted to dissuade him. "Well, what if there happened to be a woman out there, younger and prettier even than me who wants to ride on the back of that thing? You can't deprive yourself of that! Come on now! No, I don't want you to get rid of something you really wanted, especially if it will save money on gas. You never know where you may have to go in the future." But nothing worked.

Finally I just told him "It's ME..... bla bla bla" all sorts of trumped-up things wrong with me. That was easier for him to swallow.

But he still cried for an hour straight. Is this normal?

We've only been seeing each other a couple of months and I can't figure out how I can be someone's "woman of my dreams" or how someone can be "completely nuts" about me when he doesn't know me all that well.

In order to get him to stop carrying on, I told him we can still see each other, but I am determined to see other people and that's final.

Over my protests, Outdoorsman willingly placed himself on the back burner by saying, "I'll wait as long as it takes. Do whatever you have to do."

I feel so mean but what else was I supposed to do? I didn't have time for a suicide threat. I had to work in the morning. Part of me thinks this is just another ploy men use to get us into bed. I'll have to ask my brother about that.

I always had faith in my sarcastic nature,

and always felt that anyone who didn't understand my sense of humor was slow. Turns out I'm just more evolved. That means I can just be sympathetic rather than annoyed.



Sarcasm Seen as Evolutionary Survival Skill

By Meredith F. Small, LiveScience's Human Nature Columnist
posted: 20 June 2008 09:42 am ET

According to Dr. Rankin, if you didn’t get the sarcastic tone of the previous
sentences you must have some damage to your parahippocampal gyrus which is
located in the right
brain. People with dementia, or head injuries in that area, often lose the
ability to pick up on sarcasm, and so they don’t respond in a socially
appropriate ways.
Presumably, this is a pathology, which in turn suggests
that sarcasm is part of human nature and probably an evolutionarily good thing.
How might something so, well, sarcastic as sarcasm, be part of the human
social toolbox?
Evolutionary biologists claim that sociality is what has
made humans such a successful species. We are masters at what anthropologists
and others call "social intelligence." We recognize and keep track of hundreds
of relationships, and we easily distinguish between enemies and friends.

Great article! I'm going to hand that to my boss next time I get a talking to about "how" I say things.

The Chicken and I

The other night, I was lounging on the Outdoorsman's back patio while he attempted to educate me on the finer points of dog training. The dogs were getting exasperated, but I was relieved that he had something to do besides brag about hanging off a cliff in some obscure mountain range all those years ago. During a rare quiet moment, I heard an unusual sound. It was familiar, but then again I couldn't place it.

I asked the Outdoorsman if he had a water leak in the sprinkler system because I could hear a strange noise. I put my hand down to the sprinkler head, and as I did, Outdoorsman decided to take control of the situation by sticking his own head to get a good look. Then he spotted the source of the noise, which was not the sprinkler head but was coiled up right next to the sprinkler head. Luckily I had retracted my hand by the time he FREAKED out and jumped back, screaming, "OHMYGOD it's a FUCKINGSNAKE! A SNAAAAAKE! A SNAAAAKE!" I was still sitting on the chair next to the snake, who was a baby rattler. I said, "Hey calm down, I'm sitting right next to him. Judas, just get the dogs inside and I'll follow you all."

So first the Outdoorsman saved himself and HIS dog, grabbing her roughly and dragging her into the house. She would have willingly gone inside had he simply held on to her while directing her to go, but whatever. Then it was up to me to take care of my own two dogs who don't listen to a damn thing I ever say. Luckily, I was blessed with a tad bit more common sense than the Outdoorsman. I calmly maneuvered the three of us away from the baby snake, who by this time had lowered his head somewhat and was glibly staring us down in triumph.

Outdoorsman dialed 911 and whined that his dog uses a doggy door so somebody needs to come out and get this RATTLE SNAKE! Sigh. For some reason, the operator declined to send out the fire department. Instead, Outdoorsman was given the number of some rattle snake removal service. Upon their answer, he started in again with his whining. They told him they'd be glad to come out, but he would have to assure them that he had the snake cornered or at least in his sight. They weren't going to look around all night for the snake. So Outdoorsman got on some headgear flashlight thing that he must use for all of his adventuresome cave explorations.
I told him that I would be happy to help search for the snake. "Ooooh no, you're staying in here. Calm these guys down." I stood up. "Listen, these guys will be calm if WE are calm. If you are acting a fool, it scares them and nobody will be able to help them. So give me a flashlight and let's get this taken care of." He got me another stupid head thingy and out the door he went. I followed, making sure the dogs--- "Hey, I said DON'T let those DOGS OUT!"

The fucker yelled at me! Even X never yelled at me. I don't think I've ever been yelled at by someone I was dating. I looked at him blankly, for by the time he finished his hysterically barked order, the door was shut.

My "flashlight" didn't work. There was no sign of the snake anyway. He had probably had enough of the Outdoorsman's craziness. Smart snake.

Step One: Accept that A man is better than NO man?

Speaking with a friend about Outdoorsman, I was called to task for judging the man so harshly. According to new information, men do not mature by any means other than force. So Outdoorsman, having never been married or sired children, doesn't have any reason to have matured. I guess it would be up to me to force ANOTHER man to grow up. But it didn't work last time, why would I expect it to work on this one?

Brother's opinion is that as long as Outdoorsman isn't a felon and doesn't have to pay over $1,000 per month in child support, I better sharpen those hooks because apparently time runs short for me. Plus he doesn't want to help move stuff around in my garage this summer.

Outdoorsman IS a nice guy in many ways.

I have personally witnessed him conjure quiet tears three times in the past month(I suspected that he was fishing for physical contact so now I am always sure to keep tissues handy).

When not bragging about his 15 year-old adventures, he showers me with compliments (This immediately puts me on my guard since I've rarely met a man who wants to spend every waking minute with a woman, and never dated any who had anything nice to say).

I can't stand the smileyface texts he sends, but then again does that mean I can be goofy without getting shot down? Hmmmm.

He HAS paid for 4 out of our five dates, and made dinner once. I had to pay for gas to drive cleeeear over to his side of town but that didn't matter to me since I don't like men knowing where I live until I'm good and ready to tell them. Of course, the date that I DID offer to pay for, do you think he considered my ailing bank account at ALL? Nah! He ordered TWO beers and let me tell you, this wasn't Chili's we were at. Think Vegas pricing and you'll understand my resentment. No matter, I'm not paying again because I have a mortgage to pay for and I don't have a freaking roommate.

Outdoorsman and I also share a few common character traits:
We can't stand people who litter and we are obnoxious in our complaining.
We can't stand people who park too close to our POS cars and we are obnoxious in our complaining.
We can't stand people whose noise bothers their neighbors and we are obnoxious in our complaing. Maybe be both have a death wish, expressing our ArchieBunker sides while living in this city.
We LOVE our dogs. He may be more of a dog lover than me. When not showering me with compliments after he gets tired of bragging about his non-lazy days of yore, he talks about how CUTE his dog is. And the dog is a happy dog.

Closest thing I have to a relationship right now

I'm tired of dating.

I've been seeing a guy who seemed nice enough at first, but after dinner last night it is clear that we are just not soul mates.

Maybe I'm just a bitch, but I was amazed at the level of bullshit I was expected to swallow.
He is portly, but at the same time he talks for HOURS (no exaggeration there) about how ATHLETIC he is. He does NOT get out much anymore. Maybe 10 years ago, which is how old he was in all of the blown-up photos of himself he has framed and hung all over the place. Outdoorsman on a bike, Outdoorsman hanging off a mountain. He has hair on his head in all of these pictures. He also paints self-portraits, which are displayed along with the photos. In the self-portraits he has hair too.

Here is an example of our intriguing conversations:
Outdoorsman: Yeah, so that's how like to spend all my free time, seeing as how I'm such an athlete.... so you have never talked much about yourself, MH. What do you like to do for exercise?
MH: I enjoy running, mostly. I consider mowing the lawn exercise, but I don't enjoy that much. Have you ever been over to BlaBla Park? I love running there because there are so many different paths.
Outdoorsman: Oh, I can't run, I have a bad back, I have bla bla bla wrong with me and I can hardly sit most of the time, I kills me to work all day long. That's why I want to get out and do some more hiking because ( gives his sizable belly an affectionate round of paddles ) I need to work on this a bit, heh heh heh. Anyway, I was in such good shape when I was speed racing with one of my $20,000 bikes.
MH: Oh yeah, you've filled me in on that quite a lot....
Outdoorsman: Yeah, anyway I have this book of places to hike to and I want to hit every place in it. Just a sec, I'll get it.... Okay, I've been here here here and here. Oh this place has the most amazing view, and you can literally jump off a thirty foot cliff into the pool and oh this place I've been to a bunch of times...
MH: Wait a minute, are you sure it's cool to jump off a thiry foot cliff when your vertebrae are about to crumble at any given time? That sounds quite dangerous.
Outdoorsman: Well, that was before my back was ruined in one of my other adventures, you see what happened was I was......

I can't stand it when people can't age with some amount of acceptance. We are all getting older and there isn't a damn thing we can do about it. Where are the men who understand that?

I'd also like to find a guy who doesn't need a roommate in order to eat.

The horrors of blind dating abound in my life.

Of course there was another "news" report on NPR this morning about how infertile women my age are. Damn, and good thing someone reminded me that any children I may be lucky enough to conceive will probably have some genetic defect too!

It is not as if I haven't been participating in the creation of one more happy, healthy, spoiled american child. I have!I have been out on EVERY set-up that has been offered to me. I was EVEN set up with some prospective babydaddies while up north for my beloved Grammy's funeral.

First guy was shorter than me. I'm about 5'4" so I don't know, I guess I'm a freak. My sister, who really IS short, tells everybody I'm 5'7" so at least I wasn't as tall as the dude expected. But the point is, NOBODY told me how SHORT Mr Personality was. Mr P, who is in the military and was also an only child of a single mom, made it clear to me that he has VERY high standards and THAT'S why he's single. Oh, I guess it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that my GAYDAR was screaming its torchsong alarm that a Gay was in range, and I don't mean the bartender. Poor Mr P. He has to pretend like he's straight, but it's so obviious he's totally gay. Then he expects me to act like I don't know he's gay? I started treating him like a girlfriend and we got along fabulously. Thankfully, that was the extent of the chemistry, and I'm now babysitting his dog while he is deployed.

Next guy had a mullet and is obsessed with Nascar.. 'Nuff said.

One of my good friends at work has resorted to trying to produce a love match where there is none. She insists that there is a flirtation going on between me and a strapping young stallion 10 or 15 years my junior who is a sort-of recent addition to our office. In fact, those insinuations have been flying around about me and every other single guy in the office. Dear God, I do hope I'm not so desperate that I'm flirting with every loose man in my vicinity.

What I do for the Earth and my bank account

Something I read in a magazine made me realize that I have been doing better than I thought. Some of the things I do:

Line-dry laundry
Recycle
Compost
Don't have cable so I hardly watch tv. Only when my Netflix movie shows up.
Vegan. Although there is much room for improvement.
Reuse bath water as much as possible. Because my soap is vegetable based, the water doesn't hurt plants. It's a bit of a pain lugging pails of water outside, but it will save me money.
Do not use my heating and a/c unit. Former Owner of my home said she didn't ever use it in the summer, but we'll have to see.
90% of my clothing is second-hand.
Live less than 5 miles from my office.

Can't think of anything else right now. Funny how living frugally is also more responsible environmentally. The only draw-back of being poor is that I can't afford organic vegetables. Until my garden produces.