Jane Adams Gets Hung Up On A TWEET

I know celebrities have seemingly unending power over retail establishments, so most people expect that celebrities get their way when they sit their precious butts down.

But come on. Every restaurant ever I worked at required me to zero out my account every night and if somebody skipped out on the check like that chaunch Jane Adams, I would have had to pay. So here is Mr Ingels, who clearly isn't a tycoon. And this woman thinks she has the right to leave without paying for it. Later when she finds out the waiter complained publicly, she had the balls to get him fired? This whiny prima donna's business is that important to Barney Greengrass? Well, looks like I won't be eating there.

Ms Adams has likely never had to serve people like HER, so she probably has no idea what all the fuss is about. Well, Ms Adams, I'm relieved that I didn't know who you were already, so I don't have to be annoyed about that I've made the mistake of contributing to your evil doings. I certainly intend to NEVER see anything which has your name in the credits. You are a nasty, vindictive person. You didn't have to skip out on that bill but you thought you were too important to have to walk your lazy ass back in there. You didn't have to go back there and engage the waiter in a verbal confrontation and you showed your ass something awful when you actually complained so much that he was fired from a job he's held for a long time. Did you ever stop to think that perhaps YOU were the cause of all of this?

I hope YOU get fired. Anyone who watches whatever this Hung crap is, please email HBO to let them know that you aren't going to continue until that awful woman gets written out of her part. Hey I know, she can have lunch in a pretentious restaurant and while she is complaining about the waiter, she can choke to death. That would be great for ratings.

Heracles oh Heracles

I had lunch with a friend today and we discussed a great many important things happening in our lives.

My friend, as is typical of pretty much everyone I know, is pregnant. Unusually, this is her first. I respect her so very much because she is around my age. I do wish I were just like her, though. Somehow, she has managed to get herself married and with child within the last few years. sigh! but! I am very happy for her and no amount of envy that I may feel towards that type of situation could ever detract from how wonderful I think life can be for people, especially for those who do whatever it is that they do, and what they do is 100% perfect so that is why they are living that 100% perfect life. So I am very happy for her and I love the fact that she is living her dream. She deserves it!

I am not always sure if I ought to have kids. With my history of traumatic experiences with luck or fate, I ought to leave well enough alone. But I have to say, sometimes all I want to do is nestle myself deep inside that lovely huge lovesac and embroider and knit until I have outfitted a household ready for an army of little brilliant scientists. And little MHes.

But then sometimes I worry that there will never be another unfortunate soul of my blood, good old MH- who did not receive the greatest education, never had any sort of positive role models, and certainly doesn't have her shit together any better than anyone 15 years younger.

I can't blame my parents because emulating them was not an option, due to my unending disdain. I can only blame myself. I sometimes wonder how my life would have been different if I had made different choices in different times. But now I realize that it doesn't matter any longer anyway. Lessons are sometimes learned too late.

Luring men into fatherhood never works, but if I were younger perhaps I would be a mother right now and I wouldn't give two farts what anyone thought about it. But stupid MH. I'm always concerned with my dignity, self-respect and of course, the respect of some other fucking idiot.

Confidentially, if Heracles were dumb enough to have sex with me unprotected, I'd most happily do my damnedest to get pregnant. I would. I would nurture any child I had at this advanced age, and I wouldn't have much urge to even notify any sperm supplier, especially if he had no desire to father my children!

I wouldn't expect child support. If a man doesn't want his child, why bother with the money aspect of it? It seems so backwards to me. I would think he should pay if he WANTS access to the child. Simple supply and demand.

Oh well. I will be childless. I can handle it because I am scared of it all anyhow. Mothering human beings is one of those truly thankless careers. We, as human females, want NOTHING more than to have children and take care of them, but somehow, as in so many other ways, my intended path never stuck with the main.

And that, my dears, is why I am sitting here right now, almost finished with a bottle of barely palatable CA merlot and wondering what the fuck I'm doing here worrying about being alone the rest of my life when I have a dog and a pension.

Who are you calling a bitter old hag?

No, it's okay. I have one cat right now. She isn't as bitter as I probably am. I'm feeding a little black feral kitten right now. I am well on my way to fulfilling my destiny.

Heracles blew into town last week. We had a few blissful days entertaining ourselves and each other in this fine desert weather. We took turns filming cute little short films of Minchie being her lovely little self. We ran errands. Heracles didn't make one complaint when I dragged him all across the valley trying to score a good deal on a microwave.

When did microwaves get so damned expensive? I thought they used to be $30 or so, but clearly I was wrong. I ended up spending $48 on a reconditioned GE at BigLots, thinking I'd found a kick ass deal. But when I got it home and tried it out, it got so hot on the outside I thought something might blow up or at the very least catch on fire.

They took it back without a fuss and I didn't even have to wait in line, which really shocked the hell out of me. Then I proceeded to hit WalMart, Macy's, Sears, JCPenny's, another WalMart just in case, a pawn shop ( wtf I was thinking there I cannot even recall), Anna's Linens, Bed Bath and Beyond and finally Target. Target did not have a white microwave for less than $100, so I had to get one with a black door and stainless steel shell. Bleh. I wanted white. But it was ONLY $45 on sale and it's the best microwave I saw for less than $80 or so! It was a good buy. Plus the parking lot wasn't gross like WalMart's was. I took it home and tried it out. Miraculously the outside stays pretty lukewarm, thanks be to God.

Still, I kind of wish I would have kept my micro/oven combo unit. It was a Whirlpool Gold model. The color wasn't gold, it was white. They ought to do something about the name of that model if you ask me. Anyway, that was such a great microwave! Sigh. Oh well I'm in a much better place now. I finally purchased my perfect stove, but that is all for my other blog, where I will soon post pics.

The point here is that Heracles braved all the WalMart frustrations and my inappropriate road rage episodes all day long for close to two days. He was terribly patient and encouraging when I was distressed that even though nobody has a job and stores can't unload their merchandise, they don't bother to mark anything down! Even BigLots was overpriced! Judas!

But as it happened, Heracles was about to experience something altogether different, which was not as easy for him to navigate. It all had to do with the serious uncomfortable TALK which was utterly necessary. I just had to know what his deal was with me. Did he love me or not?

Because come on. When you get to be my age, you don't want to mess around with men who don't know what they want. Well, Heracles doesn't know what he wants. He has to think about it. I believe that might translate to mean that he doesn't want me. So it is probably time for this ol' girl to hit the dusty trail. Or bite the dust. You know what I'm talking about. Pick myself up and dust myself off?

It's cold over here on the back burner

I am in my twilight dating years, and I'm sitting around waiting for Heracles to decide what he wants to do with me.

He knows he has all the power because AS A WOMAN, can I REALLY ask him to marry me? Hell no. I wonder if I'm not the one for him, because if I were, wouldn't he have done something to make our relationship more solidified in order to maintain it? But he didn't. He didn't do anything at all. He just moved and he continues to send me texts once or twice every day.

What does that mean? I'm not a veteran texter, so I can't know.

All I know is that Heracles has never told me he loves me. He has never said anything about a future with me.

He bought me a dog for Christmas last year, but I would be a total idiot to read anything into THAT. He'd only deny it.

It reminds me of Only Angels Have Wings, in which Cary Grant's tough guy will "never ask a woman" to do anything except give him a match.

So here I am with my dog, sitting around on the back burner, and friends are already asking me if I'm interested in meeting somebody they know. If I were to tell- I mean text- Heracles tomorrow that it's all over between us, I would probably still stand a chance of finding a husband for my life. I really do need a partner. Oh, and my brother told me that his attorney asked, "Hey man is your sister single?" Ha ha. Just what I need. Another brilliant man who thinks he's the absolute shit. I went from being married to a man who refused to do anything as cheap and dirty as work, to a man whose biggest desire in life is riches, and there seems to be no happy medium. I'm looking for that happy medium. I want a hard working man who isn't lazy or stupid, but doesn't measure his worth by how many millions he has either. A simple guy who cares about his family and his home. I'd be his family and I'd share his home.

I'm tired of being alone. I really am.

You can say what you want, but I don't like it anymore. I don't want to be alone when I get old. I don't want to die in some nursing home by myself, I probably would even if I have kids because kids don't give a shit either.

I am confused. Is it worth it to give Heracles the time he may require to decide whether he wants to spend his life with me or should I just ask him point blank what his plans are? I hate to scare the poor guy off but then again he isn't being very kind by keeping me on the back burner.

There is no such thing as a plural apostrophe

I am looking for a stove. It will be used rather than new. People like me don't pay retail or even wholesale for high-dollar items. Craigslist is the perfect place for poor people like me, with one exception: the majority of people trying to sell their items cannot spell! The worst offense is the use of the apostrophe....

SANTA COOKIE JAR'S,(CAN'T FIND THESE ANYMORE).........$20.00 EACH.....MANY MORE JAR'S TO CHOOSE FROM

Ember Linen Curtains - Pottery Barn - $99

Boxer/Cane Corso Marstiff puppy (love this one. You can breed them but you can't spell them.)

2 tv's, leather loveseat and bed for sale!

Chaina - $55 Incluses Serving bowls, meat plate, gravy bowls. Askins 65.00

Armouir Italian Circa 1900's - $1500

White Rod Iron Queen Bed and Frame


Sigh.

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 Flintstone 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.