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?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
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.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
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.
We made a date for next week.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
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.
Friday, July 18, 2008
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.
Posted by mental hygiene at 10:09 PM
Monday, July 7, 2008
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?
Friday, July 4, 2008
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.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
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!
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!!!!!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Anyhow I did my best to spare Outdoorsman's feelings.
Friday, June 20, 2008
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
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
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.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
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.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
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.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
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.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
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.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Something I read in a magazine made me realize that I have been doing better than I thought. Some of the things I do:
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.
Posted by mental hygiene at 7:58 PM
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Week with the Queen (Grammy)
Garage sale debacle
Nasty neighbor and her crack head relative (in this neighborhood? yes. afraid so.)
Mid-thirties weight gain and an ipod with no power?
pictures relating to most of the above
I needed a vacation because I needed some relaxation. I worked for five days straight. Tomorrow I have to go back to work. I need another vacation.
Posted by mental hygiene at 8:36 PM
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Poor FOAF finally had his last stand the other night. A relative of mine was visiting with her fiance and we met up with Brother at a nice restaurant/bar uptown. Brother decided to invite FOAF, and I was well into my second apple martini when he strutted through the door and to our table.
FOAF plopped himself down right next to me, ordered the exact same item as an entree as I had, and immediately commenced impressing all of us with his unending wisdom, procured from places including but not limited to AM talk radio and Anthony Robbins seminars. Sigh. I attempted to steer the conversation to something I could feign interest in, like his family. "So FOAF. Do you have any children?" was the fateful question.
The poor man heaved a nervous breath and came out with the hard truth, almost too matter-of-factly for my taste. But then again what else could he be expected to do, HIDE the fact that he has FIVE kids by THREE different women, the two youngest being the SAME age and of course borne to two of the respective women? One being the first baby-mama. So let's see if I can get this straignt. Had two kids with first wife. Had a kid with woman #2. Had sex with first wife and woman #3 at about the same time, producing two more kids. Of course I immediately ceased my line of questioning and went back to the virtues of Anthony Robbins.
I was as polite as a person could ever be, but of course the spark was gone, especially when he JABBED me with his finger in my kidney as we were all leaving! "Hey, had a great time," dude said. "Oh yes, thanks for coming, bla bla bla," I said while I icily glared at the offending finger.
Brother called me the next day, "Why were you so MEAN to FOAF? He's a nice guy!" I wasn't mean to him, to be sure. I'm just not interested. It's sad too, because secretly I was hoping I'd find someone to date regularly. But this just isn't the guy for me. Brother's heart is broken.
Friday, February 22, 2008
The other day this sacrificial sister was exposed to the mighty lion, but I escaped unharmed due to my finely honed survival skills. I made it through the meal/set-up neither embarrassing myself, nor making myself irrestistably funny or charming or sexy. I tried extra hard to counteract Brother's projections of me as a vulnerable simpleton who cannot take care of myself by changing the subject and asking FOAF about himself.
Of course, in reality I am extremely independent and I don't need anybody's help. But that's not how it looks when your brother is sitting there spewing tales of your ineptitude and misfortunes. What a big-mouth. Also, I have zero interest in FOAF's business, as I'm sure he has no interest in my inability to hook up a dvd player.
After the meal, I met a friend for some tooling around Scottsdale. I received a call from an unfamiliar number, and naturally assuming that some old bill collector had caught up with me, I let it go to VM. Later, I found that it was FOAF! Brother had GIVEN FOAF the sacrificial sister's PERSONAL phone number without asking permission AT ALL.
Anyway, FOAF had a great time at the meal, and wanted me to know that any of my unfinished home projects would each probably only take him about 10 minutes to complete, so I could call him at..... if I need any help.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
... who'll start the bidding
All to benefit the aforementioned SPUS.
Brother decided that I really need to go. And get a man, that is. Nevermind that I don't bother him at all! All I ever do is listen to his constant complaining about his woman and pay proper homage to his darling brood. But that's not good enough. I feel like one of those pathetic spinsters in a Thackeray or Trollope book. Or Hardy.
Phone convo yesterday:
Bro: Guess who I talked to today?
Me: Johnny Depp.
B: Grow up. FOAF! Yeah, I told him how cute you are, what a GOOD GIRL you are, what a good wife you were to that F-er, how smart you are and how he ought to meet you.
M: Why did you go and do that? You told him I'm cute? Are you trying to set me up for failure? Yeah, I was a good wife, wasn't I?
B: So he'll meet us for breakfast tomorrow but he wants a picture of you, send me one that isn't a wedding picture. He doesn't need to see one of those.
M: Well, why does he want a picture? That sucks, there has never been a good picture of me taken! Plus, I don't really like the way that sounds. What, I don't sound good enough as it is?
B: MHy-giene, you KNOW that guys want a good looking woman first, that's just how we are, don't worry about it. Just email me a picture.
M: No. If he wants to meet me he can just meet me. I'm not some cow up for auction. Didn't he offer to supply a picture?
B: You don't need a picture. Everybody knows women don't care about looks anyway. Isn't it enough that he has lots of money?
M: No. I think he's an asshole and I don't want to meet him anyway.
B: MH. So you are trying to make me look like a jackass, is that it? Fine, I don't care, just keep your stupid cat until she dies and get twenty more for all I care, you are going to be alone for the rest of your life! Is that what you want?
M: Hey, it's not such a bad thing. I'll find someone if I'm meant to, don't worry.
B: No you won't, and I won't know what to do. Don't ask MY kids to take care of you when you are 80.
M: I won't, and they won't have any of me and Kitty's money either!'
B: Just send me a picture.
M: No, he'll come to breakfast anyway if he's a decent guy.....
FOAF called Brother a half hour before we met this morning to say something came up.
B: Eh, don't worry about wearing a tight-fitting shirt. He's not coming.
M: Good, I didn't want to see him anyway.
B: See you there.
After breakfast, B called
B: When are you going to send me a pic, he keeps calling!
M: I'm not going to.
B: What's that site you used for your wedding pictures?
M: Oh, bla.com, why?
B: Just wondering.
(smal talk for a couple minutes about his business and how wonderful this business is or whatever)
B: HA! You idiot! It's so easy to get to your pictures.
M: Don't you dare steal any of my pictures.
B: Gotta go.
B: FOAF called me. He said, "Why didn't you tell me your sister was so hot?" He's coming to breakfast next week, so you better get up early and take a shower.
M: Did you send a picture of me? You better not have. What's HE look like anyway?
B: Eh, does it matter? He has a little bit of a belly but that's no big deal, X wasn't all that great looking so you won't care.
M: YEAH I WILL! I'm not going to make myself vulnerable to someone who isn't good enough for me ever AGAIN! So if he's a dog, you will definitely look like a jackass, mmmmmkay?
What am I going to do?
Thursday, January 31, 2008
The guy who lived and died in my house was everything I am not. He was a WWII Captain in the Army. He was a Boy Scout leader. He was an engineer. He had interests in woodworking, rock collecting and everything that had to do with the outdoors. He took meticulous care of everything he owned. Why can't I be more like him?
I found a bunch of his old papers. I had asked the son what they wanted me to do if I found anything I thought they would want. He replied in an arrogant tone, "I'm sure we got everything we need, you won't find anything interesting." Oh, okay, I guess you don't want your dad's college degree, army discharge papers, pretty much everything personal to him like his fishing and goldmine hunting records, not to mention a to-the-penny run-down of all the money he's ever loaned you (with copies of cashier's checks AND a yes or no on whether or not you ever paid him back. Bet that came out of your inheritance).... A-hole. Anyways there were a bunch of pictures of Edward, so I took a big frame and created an Edward mural.
My brother said, "Christ, what are you doing are you crazy?" I said yeah. But I want to pay homage to the man who built my house and took care of it so I can live here. This house is in better shape in many ways than any 5-yr old house in Queen Creek, I guarantee it. "You need a man," my brother said. I said yeah.
I spent all day yesterday and today cleaning out the workshop and it's still nowhere near being finished. I realized that I like tooling around there. I wish I had more tools. Too bad everybody and their cousin went in there and stole all of them out from under me. I don't think Edward approves.
The reason I have to clean this place up a little bit is because my aunt and her beau are coming for a visit! How exciting! I just can't wait to break out my old list of guest room must-haves. But first I need to clean out the workshop. And get a couch. And get the heater to work, unless the weather warms up within a couple weeks. That would save me some money which I do not have.
Monday, January 21, 2008
because if I did, I'd probably have to get more professional help after listening to my brother's diatribe. Sigh. He means well, I guess.
He is considering allowing a certain transaction to take place, but he is of course wary of what the ramifications may be for reasons I will list below. First, the nature of the transaction: setting MH up with a friend of a friend (FoaF). Friend thinks I'd be just PERFECT for FoaF. Friend has only met me once. Brother, being a founding member of the Society for the Prevention of Unwed Sisters, is weighing the risks:
MH might start with her "femi-nazi" crap, thereby scaring off the only prospect she had, and embarrassing Brother. I'd do my best to keep my mouth full of food, and just enjoy my $500 meal. Promise!
FoaF might not understand that MH swears constantly, and is not capable of reigning it in unless The Kids are around, and even then she is guilty of slight fuck-ups when officially dog tired from being prodded, nagged, nudged, teased and basically abused for 8 hours straight. True.. What's he trying to say?! For chrissakes, Fuck that guy if I can't even swear sometimes. Who is he to judge me? He probably swears all the time too, but just doesn't want a WOMAN who swears, isn't that right?
FoaF might be too successful for MH and her "tree hugger" habits. Successful men don't like tree huggers. They want regular women, you know the ones who "take care" of themselves. I take care of myself. Why do men act like women are disgusting vessels of venerial disease unless we follow some sort of regiment of personal "hygiene" as prescribed by MEN? They all have different expectations, usually based on what type of pornography they happen to be obsessed with at the moment. After listening to my short lecture, Brother innocently shrugged his shoulders, said I'm talking like a feminazi again and all he meant was that I ought to get a haircut and maybe wear something other than X's old Carhardt work pants. That's fair, I guess. But those pants sure are handy.
Finally, FoaF might be religious. As in born-again. Would MH offend him, thereby ruining the solid friendship Brother has built with Friend, who is also born-again? Of course I would try not to offend him, but what about his offending me? I think this relationship is doomed.
Poor brother. He is so desperate to rid himself of the burden of a single MH. Life was much easier when I was married, b/c X was very handy around the house, truth be told. He even took care of Brother's house problems, leaving Brother time to coach football and meet Friend, who fancies himself somewhat of a matchmaker.
I figured out the brutal reality of dating. The golden rule. When a woman is desperate for a man, she'll do anything to get one. Or him, if it's a particular man. But if it's just any man, she will become more desperate. He can smell the desperation, and he knows he can do whatever he wants then. Because she just wants a man. Well, my problem is I just can't allow myself to be desperate. I'd rather die alone with fifty cats than fashion myself differently in order to secure a man. I do love them and admire them for the little things they do and how they act and what they are capable of. And I dream about how wonderful life is when one is around and both of us are happy and content. But I can't deny that I don't need one. So it appears to me that since I can't become desperate, I'll never have that type of happiness. I guess it's my choice?
Friday, January 18, 2008
I'm so relieved that we can encapsulate our troubles into the simple term, "bad day." This morning as I awoke, my toes felt as if they weighed ten pounds. Then I realized that my forehead, which was the only part of my body unprotected by the piles of heavy blankets atop my bed, was freezing.
I listened closely for the sound of the space heater, but heard nothing but Kitty's persistent whines. Briefly, I wondered what could have happened to my main source of heat since this money pit I call a home doesn't have a working thermostat, left alone a heater that I have yet to test. I asked Kitty in the most polite way I could to shut the EFF up.
After I found my glasses, I inspected the heater. Nothing was wrong with it, except somebody (the whiner) had unplugged it during her daily morning "wake the hell up, MH" exercises, which include jumping over and under every possible object. Being 15 or 16, she misses most objects and lands on them.
I dragged myself out to the back yard, where my beautiful flowers were covered up d/t a forecasted frost. They seemed okay.
Back inside, I heard the mail drop. Great, I thought. Let's see what junk mail they have for me today. I wish I had been so lucky. Three pieces of mail greeted me: shut-off notice from gas company, shut-off notice notice from city water dept. and (yikes) overdraft notice from my worthless bank.
Shut-off notices I don't quite understand. I didn't even receive bills from them. Oh well, I thought. I can just pay them. But oh wait. An overdraft notice means I don't have any money. I don't have the internet so I had to go to Starbucks to see the damage. In the four days between the time I ran out of money and got paid, I incurred over $300 in NSF charges. Not sure how I'm going to pay my overdue bills now.
I had a dream last night that I sold my house and bought a condo because I realized I couldn't take care of a house by myself. I realized that I really did like having a dryer. I liked having heat. I didn't mind not having a garden because I don't really know how to garden anyway. I even got a new cat and there was plenty of room. Today, a friend met me at Starbucks. I didn't tell her all of my woes, but I did tell her about my dream. She laughed. "I told you to get a condo, but that house is just you." Maybe it is. Broken down and in need of major repair.
Yesterday I vowed to make sure I'd never lose that house. It means so much to me. I guess I love the house because it is part of a family lineage. It was something that a happy couple had built and raised their family in. They took care of it and loved it. Their kids lived in it happily and it was a safe haven. I thought of The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck's book. I am like the Joads. I've been a wanderer my whole life. My parents never lived anywhere for long, and never fit in where they landed. Why in the world would an alcoholic man with no education move his family to Utah? In the eighties, there were probably 10 catholics in Utah, including our brood. I moved as soon as I could. I've been a gypsy ever since, never fitting in. I wouldn't even fit in where I came from, a small town in Nebraska. I'm vegetarian now.
My house represents stability and safety. And here I go, ruining it. It could be worse, though.
There is a woman here at the Starbucks. She shuffled in and after fidgiting around at her table, she borrowed a guy's cellphone, asking somebody at the other end where they were. She hung up and thanked the guy. Sat in her seat again and pulled out make-up. After her version of a touch-up, she brought out perfume and actually doused herself with it. A few minutes later, a small boy walked in by himself. He had been dropped off. The little boy sat across from her. She asked him how his day went. He didn't answer. She prodded him in her over-dramatic drunken way. The boy was used to this type of behavior. I could sense his resignation. I know how he feels. You can either cooperate and keep up the charade, or you can make your life difficult by asking them if they are drunk. The boy decided to keep up the charade and confided that some kids made fun of him at school today.
A middle eastern couple came in and sat across the room. The only person speaking was the man. Shortly, another man (middle eastern) came in and sat down too. The woman immediately got up and started browsing the sales area. She still hadn't spoken. The two men had a seemingly friendly conversation. They got up and prepared to leave. They walked out. Nobody opened the door for the woman, she just followed them.
It could all be worse, I guess.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Because I do not have time to think about what I have not.
The counter top is finished. It only took me about a month or so. Don't ever use a Dremel to dig grout out of an old tile counter top. It will ruin the tiles if you make one false move! With the amount of money I've spent on little do-dads and chemicals, I probably could have trashed the whole kitchen and went with granite. Ok that's a bit of an exaggerration. But anyway, it's done, except I have to put caulk in the corners or pretty much anywhere water might splash. The sink is about 8" deep, good for nothing much more than rinsing a tomato, so there will likely be water splashing everywhere as soon as I get up the courage to use the sink...
I have a big old metal cabinet from the forties. By myself, I was somehow able to Macguyver it out the kitchen to the patio, where I sanded and painted it. It was all rusty. Over three days I worked on it. Nobody stole it out of my yard while I was at work, I guess they must have thought it was a piece of scrap metal. Finally I finished it! Well, I used up all the paint I had bought. It's not pristine by any stretch. But I Macguyvered it back in and tonight I have been happily outfitting the old beauty with assorted vintage kitchen goodies. The glass doors are still missing but they'll turn up someday.
I wish I knew the names of some of the flowers that are blooming in my yard. They are darling. One type looks like little yellow bells, very delicate.
The oranges are falling off the trees by the pound. They are going bad quickly. But the other day I tried one and it was actually sweet and such a delight. Grapefruit is still looking good and they continue to grow bigger.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
My friend recently bought a subscription to what I contend is an overpriced online dating site. GIMO is still utilizing his subscription at the OTHER site, and we all discussed the differences. I tried my best to prove that these sites are highway robbery and should not be patronized in the least. They, being ardent believers in the power of these matching services, tried equally hard to convince me to give one of the sites a try. Here we go again. Everybody feels sorry for MH because she's alone, but nobody ever asks her if she's happy to be alone. Because why the hell would a woman be happy alone, huh? We have no use to anybody if we aren't servicing a man with sex or rearing a child. We can't possibly lead a fulfilling life.
Anyway. Friend is having the time of her life with her new hobby. She chatters nonstop about the "electrician," "engineer," "retired businessman," and "contractor." They each have special attributes ( as in big house, nice car, grown-up kids, etc), but of course there are the trade-offs. Some have "a few extra pounds" while others just don't know how to dress or wear a mullet. GIMO is now seeing a special someone, who he met through his site, but he still keeps his options open. He describes his prospects as, "blond with nice body," "blond with glasses," "brunette with nice ass but has a kid," and "blond with big nose but good job."
I observed, to their vehement disagreement, that online dating seems to be more like ordering something off of amazon. All we have to do is place a value on our desired characteristics, search for them, and out pops our order. It seems shallow, but I guess it is done all the time in other ways. I guess it's just like a bar, only sometimes you have to spend a minute or two talking to someone before you find out they are unfit to date. I can't say that I think it's the absolute worst thing to do. I like making pro/con lists and wtf better do some of us single, ALONE people have to do anyway? Still, I'm not interested in paying for it all.
But then later on, I attended a training class, in which I was seated next to a guy I found to be very cute. I know he wouldn't look good on a profile because he makes the same amount I do and he wears glasses. But he was still cute and I'd go out with him. I thought about making conversation with him, but as usual, opted to doodle when not busy listening to a My Wonderful Kid's Progress update from a co-worker I hardly ever see anymore.
I guess anything's worth a try if you honestly want to try it.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Monday, January 7, 2008
I have never EVER been so happy.
Yesterday I attended a birthday party for a good friend. I knew only a few other guests, and it was the first time I had a chance to talk with strangers about being a homeowner. I always knew that homeowners belonged to their own very dintinguished little club, but never realized how nice it is to belong myself! Somehow, people are acting like I'm a regular person rather than some slacker. I still ACT like a slacker. I'm still a slacker. But people don't treat me like I am. When I was asked, "So are you all moved in?" Of course I responded that it had only been a month and I didn't foresee being settled for at least six more. I received reassuring gestures like smiles accompanied wiht knowing nods. Unlike when I moved into my last apartment. But then again, I never did really get moved in at that place.
Also hindering the House's metamorphisis into the picture of Donna Reed Bliss is the fact that I took on a few messy projects all at the same time. That's just more evidence of my many nagging character defects, one of which is procrastination and another happens to be not finishing what I start.
So I have a floor which has been layed (by my good brother), but without trim since it is something I'm supposed to do. I have a kitchen counter which has been regrouted but not sealed. A fly on the wall of any one of the bedrooms would assume that the dozens of stacked boxes of books are merely the human's odd taste in furniture. It would be correct, because this human hasn't any bookcases. I haven't had any since I got rid of my cinder-block and old board thing 10 years ago. Mostly I have just stacked my hundreds and hundreds of books as high as possible along the walls of closets.
A friend brought over the nicest gift a few days ago. Some beautiful planters and shoots from a tree in her yard! How exciting! The first pretty, finished thing around here! I had to take a picture. I included in the clump of perfection is a little cast-iron frog that I found buried in a corner of the workshop. Mr Frog likes to be where he can be seen and admired, doesn't he?
Kitty has been allowing herself a marvelous time. She struts around the yard like it's been her turf for years. She doesn't bother to listen to me anymore. Ah, Kitty. Too cool for her own good.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Although internet is a luxury not afforded to this new homeowner, my brother was kind enough to loan me one of his old laptops with a wireless card in order for me to update. But now I realize that it's hardly possible to update if I don't have access to my catalog of pictures and also those which I've taken since moving....
Unfortunately, I did not get the promotion that I expected. That means I'll be applying for a part-time job somewhere. I'm considering finding work at one of those warehouse hardware places, whichever one gives discounts. Maybe I'll be able to find somebody to update my electrical wiring while I'm at it!
excerpts from my paper diary:
Yesterday I spent all day putting things where they belong, cleaning, and solving problems. I washed four loads of laundry and the lack of a dryer is still serving as an entertaining novelty, so hanging everything on the lines was actually fun. Now I know why we are all overweight nowadays- our appliances do all the hard work. But, as I've been saying all too frequently, "What was good enough for Seller is good enough for me" because I absolutely love having my own house! It's still most unbelievable. Today I finally started filling up the kitchen cupboards up with my VAST quantities of glass/pottery ware/silver/whatever. It was HEAVEN. I'll probably spend what amounts to weeks rearranging it all, but... Kitty's the only one who will know. And she doesn't give a crap what I do because she is absorbed in the finer aspects of bird watching, the art of yard escapism, and grass-rolling. He has also acquired an interest in eating, now that after 15 years, SOMEBODY finally broke down and started getting her canned food. She doesn't whine nearly as much , so it guess it pleases both of us.
My little bathroom is the most wonderful ever. I have everything just where I need it, and it's SO me! The kitchen is getting there. Someday the rest of the house will be nice too. I have the baseboards in the living/dining room to finish, furniture to arrange, and pictures to hang. Pretty much everything. It looks like I'm camping. I need help. Nobody ever taught me how to move with grace....
It's been so easy to adjust to life in this house. There are less conveniences in some ways, but nothing beats pulling into my own driveway at the end of the day. Many things have gone unexpectedly wrong, but so much more COULD have. Time to count my blessings?
I'm also so glad that I'm NOT in a relationship, even though having a man around to do some of this crap that men usually do has been a challenge. But I've decided that in relationships, men ALWAYS have the upper hand, because we always have to make sure we are sexually appealing to them. Well I know the way I am, I'm not sexually appealing 24/7 and I don't want to go back to trying to achieve the impossible. Maybe I wasn't meant to be in a relationship.
It gets boring writing about one's imperfections after doing so a few thousand times.
Why do men expect us to be perfect when we are NOT? Why is it that we are the only animal which demands that the FEMALE impress the MALE? Boy we really got the shitty end of the deal, didn't we? We have to make ourselves perfect, yet we still have to suffer from the effects of childbirth, rearing children and taking care of a household. We get fat, lose control of our bladder and our partners cheat on us because we've dedicated our lives to our partner, yet we continue to wax those legs and allow.... ad nausea....
I think I must have been depressed that day.......
Today. Bought a Dremel attachment kit and a grout grinder attachment, which I may return. Spent the rest of the day trying to repair the sink area in the kitchen. Grout has been falling out of the tiles for years and now everything is corroded and worst of all, the sink, which is cast iron with porcelain, has started to rust at the top, all around. Very messy!Q I dug out as much as I could, then sprayed a rust-stopper product. Dug out as much grout as I could, until my hand was too weak to continue and the Dremel pooped out. Tomorrow I want to b e able to grout in but I don't think it will be possible, given that I have to work 12 hrs, go to a graduation/christmas party and then work 12 more hours. Sigh. Brother said he *might* come over and hook up my sot vie for me this week. We'll see. If he doesn't, I'll have to just figure out how to do it myself. Reminds me.... Daily Cleaning... (True Value Household Encyclopedia) 1973
"Consists chiefly of dusting. In the bedroom, beds, which have been airing while the family is at breakfast, are made first. Then in all rooms, inside sills may be dusted, then furniture, wood floors, and finally rugs are cleaned. If a broom is used, upholstered furniture is brushed first and covered, then rugs swept, and finally floors, woodwork, and furniture dusted.....
Weekly cleaning- same except more thorough...pictures and mirrors, light bulbs and lighting fixtures, closet doors, backs of furniture, and window shades and baseboards... mattresses turned side for side one week and end for end the next."
12/20 (more complaining about men, especially GIMO)
... I said to my other co-workers, "Geez! Why does he always have to bother ME?" One person (his closest friend in the office) said, "Maybe he wants to date you." I laughed it off because he's such and asshole! Plus he's dating someone from one of those match websites. You know, I think he should just be friendly all the time and none of us would waste our time speculating. But it isn't like I'd want him anyway, I think he judges women too harshly and I don't think it would be worth shaving my left all the time, just to be judged by HIM, then rejected eventually. Actually, I have no intention of dating ANYONE who doesn't make it past that first cost/benefit analysis.
Sacrifices just for HIM:
Shave my legs every day?!
Increase in showers and water usage, therefore wasting my time and money on water and gas for the water heater.
I'd have to meet new people who I probably wouldn't like.
Probably cost me money which I don't have!
Other emotional risks associated with his wandering eye.
What possible benefit could I glean from dating some bratty, selfish man??? Eh, maybe he'd help with the house projects. He'd have to be REAL handy, that's all I can say.
Anyhow, I'm still working on the tile in the kitchen counter top. It's been almost two weeks! Part of the problem has been the tools. I didn't buy the right kind. Beyond that, I am not skilled in DIY, so the going has been slow. But I have half of the grouting finished, I just might finish it today! Then on to the next project. One of my old metal cabinets. It's REALLY rusting out on the bottom and I'll be damned if I'm going to junk it without a fight.
My, but I do lead a solitary life all of a sudden. Last week (I think it was), some brilliant asshole at PRI decided to use their radio time to produce a show themed Being Alone. Perfect timing, fuckers. They just HAD to tell these pathetic tales of hermits like me. or what I could become. One was from this guy who went to a home of a recently deceased woman who, of course, died ALONE with animals and piles of junk all over her musty old house. Have pity on us! Quit rubbing our anti-social tendencies in our faces! Eh, it bothered me but I'm doing this thing lately in which I pretend something doesn't bother me in the least. and I end up not even thinking about it again! It's magical!
So Christmas came and went, that grand old holiday. I worked the whole time, thank God. I had nothing else to do anyway. Brother went to Disneyland and took his whole brood. I was too broke to travel Up North to see friends and family from days of yore, and of course having to spend more than 5 minutes alone with the Grand Duchess would have produced urges to plunge a knife deep into my chest, so I just spent Christmas with OTHER annoying people. I didn't even have anything to complain about. At least I wasn't being torn from my children at that special time, when all parents rejoice in the adorable selfishness of their children.
A girl in my office ordered a rubber bracelet that she is supposed to use to help her quit complaining. Every time you complain, you take it off and move it to the other wrist. I said, "how do you expect we'll ever change the world if nobody complains?" I honestly have no idea why she thinks complaints are bad.