post partum

After our third date where Dan came unhinged over my unwillingness to spend the night, I honestly figured I would never hear from him again. I already had a short trip planned to visit family, and gladly hopped on the plane to get away from the insanity of the whirlwind un-romance.

As I de-briefed my fam on the wild ride that is Dan's emotional instability, I realized the best part of my time with Dan was trapped on his phone. On our third date he captured me and this delightful elderly raver doing the robot together. I really wanted this footage. I debated the risk of texting Señor non compos mentis to ask him for the video, or if I should just let it go because that's what that frozen chick would tell me to do.

Well I hemmed and hawed, and ultimately decided to text Dan.  What's the worst that could happen? He doesn't reply? No loss if you don't have it to begin with.  *deep breath*

Is there any way you could email me the video of me dancing with that lady? I'd love to see if if you still have it. 

*hit send*

Ok if he doesn't text back that's fine. A few hours later...

He replies! He will send it! And he does! Aaaand he has an iPhone which apparently takes shitty video. Ugh. My video is clear and you can see the lady and her intense dance moves (thank you superior camera of the Galaxy S9). His video you can't even really tell that there are two people in the video; you just see a few blinky lights floating in the blackness. Ugh. All that worry and making contact for nothing. Oh well. Moving on!

but doing the Robot with a elderly raver probably WON'T happen twice!! 😭

Except...

A few days later he reaches out - How was your trip? 

I'm sorry, what? Did you get amnesia? We ended our last date where you were YELLING at me that I had insulted your family. For some reason, I replied. I should have just not ever responded, but for some reason I thought he was maybe trying to restore his reputation in my eyes, apologize for yelling, or at least make nice so we end things on good terms.  I have a flaw in that I almost always have to respond to a text, even if I don't like you.

Just at the Chicago airport now. 

No reply. Ok good. He got the message. Until he didn't. The following evening he texted asking if I had gotten back safely, and that he would like to see me soon, and he's at an art walk if I'm not doing anything right now.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, DAN!?!?!!??

I am as clear as I can possibly be:

I'm home. I don't think we are looking for the same things in a relationship. It is probably best if we go our separate ways. 

Because I am not looking for a psychopath as a life partner, so, best you keep looking sir.  His response is truly a must-see-to-believe, so here are images of his actual text messages that followed.

telling me how I "should" have been

Text translation: I think you know better. I think we might have a difference as far as timing, but that's about it. It worries me that you draw that conclusion. All I said was to keep the physical out of things. We should be friends. You should've been totally agreeable to that if you were at all sincere, but as soon as you can't have your cake and eat it too, then you want to call it quits.

"shame" on me for making "assumptions"

What we have here is textbook codependent manipulations. What can a woman expect from a guy like this? A whiny narcissistic asshole that won't let you have friends, makes you feel bad for having an opinion, and explains any problem you might have with any of the above as your fault. My friends were up in arms, wanting to beat him up, how could Dan say my head was up my ass? Honestly, to me, that one of the least offensive things he said. The worst are the more subtle accusations of how I am a terrible person. (Which, to be fair, I did insult his family, so really I am a terrible person. LOL)

I never responded. Somehow I got over my impulse to reply to everything and everyone, because people like Dan feed on attention. My non-doctor diagnosis: Dan is a manipulative narcissistic personality disorder. Here is a great article that highlights every red flag I saw and every tactic he used on me at one point or another.

Lesson learned here? Look yourself up in the White Pages, then contact them to get your listing removed. Apparently some of us need a psychopathic date to realize we shouldn't have our info just out there for anyone to stalk us. But you don't need that.  There's no reason the whole internet needs to know where you live, who your family members are, where they live, all their contact info, etc. If they really want to stalk you, at least make them pay for a background check.

*Dan didn't stalk me, he never contacted me again after that last text, I never ever felt in danger physically when I was with him, but better safe than sorry*

date three, set your crazy free

At the end of our second date, I still had teensy reservations about Dan. Mostly that he seemed to be feeling so very much more feelings so very much more quickly than me. I was developing an affinity for Dan, but we had spent a grand total of about 6 hours together thusfar and I was still warming up.

For our third date, when it came time to figure out what we were going to do, Dan wanted me to come over to his place for dinner and (half of) a movie. No thank you Dan I know the code and I am not ready for the intimacy that snuggling on the couch, smooching and the inevitable naked grope sesh that is ordering dinner and watching netflix.

I would much rather go to a public place and DO something. This is only our third date, after all. I still need to be woo'd and I don't want a relationship where all we ever do is sit on the couch and watch shows. If you set the precedent early, it is onerously hard to break the habit.

I suggest going to see Marty & Elayne at the Dresden (made famous by the movie Swingers) or an improv show at iO West or the Groundlings. Dan says he doesn't want to do those things but how about dancing? Yes! Sure! That sounds fun and not code for sex. He requests I meet him at his place for a drink first (for fuck's sake Dan) and then we can walk, ride share or he can drive to one of several dancing spots he knows. I don't know anywhere to go dancing that isn't horribly douchey, way too loud inside to talk, filled with coked out models and requires the purchase of a $700 bottle of shitty alcohol to have a place to sit down so I acquiesce to coming downtown.

Why yes, this bottle has been secretly refilled with Popov

I arrive at his place (the one above the restaurant where he had me meet him on our first date) and am re-annoyed at the self-serving/laziness of our first date meeting spot and simultaneously am glad for it since it seems to be one of the few places downtown that has street parking available.

Dan is woefully underprepared with drink mixers, but manages to fix me something palatable. How is he so ill-equipped when this is the date he suggested.... but I digress.  I watch him make it because he is technically still a stranger and this is dating in LA. I don't need to be roofied or killed. We chill at his place for about an hour, which is sparsely but nicely appointed and has an air of bachelor-ness without smelling like gym socks and loneliness. We put on shoes (he was twitchy about me taking more than half a step in his apartment wearing shoes) and headed out.

We grabbed a ride share to the first spot. It was completely dead inside. (insert joke here about being dead inside) Instead of hanging out with the 8 or 12 people in this bar, we walk to the next spot he has in mind. The next place has an $8 cover and is playing deeply genre-specific music. I like most types of music, but I think Dan and I both were thinking of something more like a DJ with varied music styles. We hike over to where his car was parked and he drove us to the third spot, which was a perfect mix of great DJ, not too crowded, and spots to sit and chat in between cutting rugs.

luckily I was wearing my jogging heels

There was a taco truck outside, and he said he was hungry. We grabbed tacos and ate standing on the street, talking about the real sh*t life is about - kids, the future, love languages, who we are, what we are looking for in a partner, etc. We seem to be on the same page about nearly everything... maybe this could really work between us...

Inside the DJ is playing a fun eclectic set, there is a vintage photo booth that uses real film, and the vibe is great. We order a drink and decide to take some pix. If Dan is going to be someone I date for a while or forever, how great would it be to have photo evidence of our third date, the date where it really solidified? We are adorbs in our pix.

We hit the dance floor and the DJ is slaying with a fun mix of music styles, genres and beats from several different eras. Dan can really boogie down and isn't afraid to be free on the dance floor. He also isn't using this as the opportunity to grope and squeeze, which is refreshing.

After a bit of time on the dance floor, we escape to the bar to rest for a minute. He asks if I want another drink. I've had one at his place, and one at the bar, so I decline. I have a huge day the next day, plus I want to keep my wits about me. We refresh with water and hit the dance floor again.

We are having fun! There is a woman there who I would estimate to be about 60, getting funky and wearing an ensemble of various types of "glow" sticks. I took a great video of her. Then she sees me... and one of the greatest moments of my life... she and I do the robot together. For a solid 2-3 minutes. Dan captures our robots in all their glory on his phone. This date is turning into one of the greatest nights!

Dancing with glow-lady was amazing, but I needed another rest. We found respite in a booth, and canoodled in. This when red flag number (2? 3? a zillion?) whatever popped up.

I want to take care of you.

He says, staring into my eyes. I nervously look away, "um, ok... thanks?"

What's wrong? Be honest with me. 

"Well, I don't know what you mean by that. Do you want to be my sugar daddy? Do you want to give me orgasms? What does 'take care of' mean to you?"

I want us to take care of each other, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Does this mean orgasms? Well, yes, but that is only a part of it. A relationship should encompass all these things. 

Hmm... Ok, I mean, that is odd phrasing, but that is what I am looking for when you come right down to it. I want a partner, and that does comprise all those areas. "Oh. Ok, well, then, I want that too."

Actually, there is more to it than this, but it is sweet sentiment.

We hit the dance floor one more time. At this point I'm sweaty and my jogging heels are starting to reach their limits of comfort, so I lead us back to the bar for more hydration. Dan has become more and more physically and verbally intimate with me throughout the evening (read: handsy with adulation), and by this point he is completely devoted to me. He says something over the top complimentary, to which I reply, "I bet you say that to all the girls." Dan says he doesn't. "Uh, huh, sure you do. You say that to all the girls!" I say, as I bat my eyelashes and twirl my hair around my finger. (I never claimed to be good at flirting) Dan says he needs air and abruptly gets up and goes outside.

I sit at the bar and sip my ice water, wondering what is happening. Did Dan overheat? I'm pretty close to that myself after all this dancing. Does he smoke and I didn't realize? Is he going to get high? Does he suffer from sensory overload? Was it something I said? Did he need to take a phone call? Panic attack?

After several minutes, Dan comes back inside. He is visibly upset. Like, not in tears, but maybe he was outside.

C'mon, lets dance.

Whoah there buddy. What's going on? Are you ok?  Something is going on with you.

It's just that I don't say that to all the girls. I told you before, I mean what I say and I say what I mean. You're not like any other girl. I really mean the things I say to you. 

WHAT THE FUCK, DAN 

You're practically in tears because I teased you? Because I attempted flirting? (poorly, yes I know; we covered that already) I walk him back from the ledge, reminding him that teasing is one of my love languages, and I don't really think he actually says that to every girl, and I didn't mean to make him upset.

DING DING MOTHERF*CKING DING

Despite the blazing red flag, I wasn't done with Dan yet.... partially because he said, yes, he knows, he just got a bit upset because he really likes me and doesn't want me to think he is dating anyone else or is interested in anyone else. He actually really loves my sassy side. Conversation moves on, and returns to seemingly normal status.  Maybe he's just a sensitive artist type?

Then Dan says he wants to ask me to spend the night tonight, but knows I will say no. I agree, stating my giant day the next day and really needing to get sleep. Dan says, well then I better get you back to your car. It is late-ish, and think of how sweet and thoughtful he is now being. He really is very kind and considerate.

We hop in his car and the ride back is filled with laughter, teasing, and overall some of the best conversation we've had all night. No weird overtures of "I want us to take care of each other," just regular banter.

Dan pulls up in front of my car, and we smooch a bit before I start to gather my purse to leave.

Can I ask why you won't come up to my apartment? I want us to take care of each other. 

There is is again. I weigh the options of copping out with the "big day tomorrow" or being vulnerable and honest. I'm trying to be better about communication, so ... "Well Dan, I view spending the night with someone as a very intimate thing, and I'm just not quite there yet."

It was as though a switch got flipped. He pulled about as far away as a person can in a car, crossed his arms over his chest and wouldn't make eye contact.

Oh, I see. Well, we can just be friends then. 

I'm sorry, what? No, that's not what I-

No, no, that's cool. We can just be friends.

How did you make that leap? I just want to get to know you more; I wasn't saying only be friends, its just that I'm not ready to spend the night.

Oh, yeah? When do you think you will be ready? In six months? A YEAR?  

...I don't put a timeframe on these things, I don't count dates or days or months, it is just a feeling of intimacy and when I am ready to share that with someone.

Oh ok, ok. I see how it is. We'll just be "friends" and you can let me know when you are "ready." I THOUGHT we were going to take care of each other. I thought we liked each other. I THOUGHT we understood each other. 

Listen bro, we've only had 3 dates, spent a total of maybe 12 hours together. I mean, if you just want to go upstairs and bang, then let's go. We can just go fuck if that's all you're looking for. But I actually like you, and wanted to take the time to get to know you.

MY PARENTS SLEPT TOGETHER AFTER THEY HAD ONLY KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR THREE HOURS. YOU JUST INSULTED MY FAMILY!!!!!!

WHAT THE FUCK, DAN!!!! (yes, I actually said this out loud this time!) I am not your mother and this is not your parents situation!

No, no, no, you're right. You're right! I'm sorry!! I'm sorry... It's just that you are being so unreasonable! 

...My first instinct is to defend myself. Me?? Unreasonable??? I am not the unreasonable one in this situation. Far from it.  But I have the car door open and one leg is already out of the car at this point. Dan's freak flag is flying so boldly I want to get as far away from it as possible. So I just say, "you know what, you're right. I am."

So that's how its going to be then. That's it.  

Yes, yes it is.

And I get all the way out of Dan's car and into mine. He roars off. I assume that is the last I will ever see or hear from Dan again.

As my middle school teacher used to say, when you "assume" you make an "ass" out of "u" and "me."

**sidebar: sadly, the photos from the booth were left at the bar. They were real film, and were wet when they came out of the machine so we set them aside to dry. And there they stayed.***

kissing frogs

My Romcom-in-Real-Life Romance was short lived, as Hank* was unable to follow through on his romantic gestures. I was disappointed to say the least, but at least I found out quickly.

Next came Tony*. He was a tall, successful, ruggedly handsome business owner who seemed to think I hung the moon. I was really warming up to him as well, and considering our future options. We had been out a dozen or so times, when Hallow's Eve's Eve gave me a fright! We were hanging out at a bar talking with some people we just met. The election was quickly approaching and out it comes that Tony had already voted absentee/mail in ballot for HitlerVoldemortTrump, a man who scares the bejeezus out of me. A man who has a life-long reputation of being a sexual predator and a scam artist of a businessman. A man who regularly makes racist comments, and (at the time) had two pending trials in the next couple of months for fraud and for the rape of a 13 year old girl.

I told Tony that we needed to just not talk politics (so I could consider what to do with a guy I like who is obviously morally at odds with me). We talked about other things. We left the bar and were headed back home when we passed by a Hollywood iconic hotel and he asked if we could hop out for a drink in the hotel bar. Sure. More drinks sounds like a swell addition to this evening. At the bar, we started talking with the other people bellied up, and lo and behold Tony brings up Trump again! I am pretty drunk, so things get pretty heated. Long story short, I got so mad I got up and left him there! uhmNOthx buh-bye you can keep your selfish reasons for voting for evil.

Next was Johnny*. His online profile pix were dapper and handsome. When we met, his IRL self was moderatly attractive, but I felt no spark at all. On the plus side, we had a blast hanging out! He was hilarious. After 2 beers, I was ready to leave, but he doesn't ask and orders us another round. ...ok... well, I won't be rude, he is sweet, I'll hang out. After beer 3, I say I really must leave, and he very sweetly walks me to my car. I go in to give a polite hug, and he shoves his tongue down my throat. Dude. Johnny. I gave you no indication that I was open to that! Ugh. Next.

Finally I met Tyrone*, a gorgeous tatted up former musician turned real-job-holder. He was funny, smart, not voting for Trump, and seemed to be really my type. We had a first date that turned into practically three dates. Charming, sweet, and seemingly into me. Until he reaveals on date two that he is moving to Phoenix at the end of the month, but if things go well, we can fly back and forth on the weekends to "romp" and if things go really well, maybe more. Well call me flattered, you want to be FWB with me? Ugh. #ByeFelicia

I feel like I'm on an episode of MTV's Next.

But you gotta kiss a bunch of frogs to find your prince, right? Pucker up and kiss it...

*names changed to protect the frogs

offsides chick

Sometimes I google old boyfriends. Just to see. Not my proudest moments, but... whatever. Like you've never done anything embarrassing. I'm not sure what made me think of him, but the other day I decided to look up Chris (fka "Todd" on this blog, but I don't give a shit about protecting his identity anymore). He doesn't do social media except for his sportscaster personality page on FB and a work twitter. And he has a common name so even if he did, I wouldn't necessarily be able to find his personal accounts.

After we ended things back in January 2015, I saw some tweet that made me think he was dating his co-worker the traffic gal at his TV News station. The tweet just said she was pretty, which could have been nothing, but... my gut said otherwise. At the time I wondered if he started dating her after we broke up or if she was the reason for the breakup. Of course she also has a very common name, so I can't find her anywhere on social media either except for her professional page... until the other day when I decide to google their two names together. *side note - I should teach a class on google stalking* And I find their "The Knot" page. They are getting married this summer.

I quickly click over to the "about us" section and see they have been dating since approximately May 2014. Chris and I dated Sept 2014 - Jan 2015. I even double check my old calendar to make sure. Yep. There's my flights to Seattle, his flight to LA, our dates, everything. I feel sick. This is the guy that wanted to spend Christmas with me and my family. But is also the guy who also wouldn't tell his parents about me because he "didn't like his parents nosing in his relationships."

And for a little light reading...

Here is the post about when we met.

Here is the post about our "first dates".

And the one where we were over.

Now the thing is, I was good with the whole situation. I had long ago made peace with the fact that we were not supposed to be together, that long distance was a much too difficult way to begin a relationship, that I deserved someone who made me a priority. I still feel that way. But now it is thrust upon me that I was inadvertently and unknowingly a side-chick.

did NOT know. *facepalm*

Mostly I feel badly for her. I don't know if she knows about me. I don't know anything about their relationship, but in general by the 5 month mark things are fairly serious and perhaps the "L" word has even been bandied about. They would have been dating about 5 months when he started things with me and seemingly juggled two "schmoopies" for a while. If it were me, I would want to know.

where is all started, and the happy couple

For their sake I hope I was a one-time-couldn't-resist-my-charms-fell-momentarily-in-love-but-then-realized-the-error-of-his-ways fluke and he is true to her now. As for me, I'm going to review my intuition see if it needs an overhaul.

all the playas in the house STAND UP

I'm still on Tinder... (sighs)

But despite the fact that Tinder for women is 99% fugly-dudes and Tinder for men is a gorgeous-lady-playground, I remain hopeful that I can find my prince on this thing. I've been dating a couple of guys from there, and one of them is even a front runner for titleholder "boyfriend," but I find it best not to put all my eggs in one basket.

In my profile, I say I'm only interested in meeting in person, so don't swipe me unless you want to meet me also. So when I matched with a moderately-not-unattractive guy and his first message to me was

I'd LOVE to meet you in person!

I replied with

I love that you'd love to meet in person!

He hastily got to the business of setting up the date. We exchanged numbers and began texting. I was slightly put off because he called me "babe" in his first text. But... I am nothing if not forgiving. (hey! stop laughing!) He suggests coffee, I offer to meet in the afternoon, and he asks if we can do morning instead. My only morning plans were a yoga class, so I decided to forgo my ohmshanti in favor of ohmcoffee. He tells me just to tell him where to be and he will be there.

Showers, puts on make up, picks a cute "just threw this on" outfit...

 #wokeuplikethis

*cut to: Starbucks, 5 minutes before the time Tinderman McJerkathon requested*

I enter Starbucks and look around. He's not here yet. Hmm... do I wait so we can order/stand in line together? Or do I just go ahead and grab a coffee and sit and wait? I opt for the second one and grab a table outside in the shade. I check his Tinder pic one more time to make sure I know what he looks like. I peruse Facebook. I check my bank account balance. Look at email. Check the time. 10:05. He's late. Harumph. But only five minutes. He was coming all the way from Malibu, after all.

I look more at Facebook. Damn I have a lot of friends with kids on the first day of school. 10:10AM. No text, no message, no call. WTF. This guy is getting five more minutes and he better have a damn good reason for being late.

10:15AM MOTHERFUCKER. I SKIPPED YOGA CLASS, GOT DOLLED UP AND PAID $5 FOR COFFEE AND YOU DON'T EVEN BOTHER TO TEXT ME TO LET ME KNOW YOU'RE NOT COMING??? A litany of "expressive" texts come to mind but I don't send one, because you know the second you snark out a text an even better one emerges in your head. I fume the whole 5 minutes home.

I mean, what the f*ck??? He's the one that wanted to meet me. He's the one who picked the time. He's the one who didn't show up!?!?!? I look just like my pictures. If he drove up and saw me it's not like he would be surprised by what I look like and have second thoughts about meeting me.

Never in my life... Finally I decided to just take the high road and all I did was unmatch from him on Tinder. Jerk.

it's not easy being green

Why is it that all the stuff that is better for us (as people, as a planet) is more expensive and/or harder to get?

Arco/BP is usually the cheapest gas, but they spill all over my oceans.

Organic food is healthier, but always more expensive than pesticide ridden foods.

Hybrid and electric cars are better than gas-guzzlers, but also more expensive than the fossil fuel alternatives.

Vegan substitutes are generally more expensive than their global-warming-animal counterparts.

Bio/plant-based cleaners are more expensive than the chemical-laden ones.

Styfrofoam and plastic are cheaper than the biodegradable containers.

Recycled stuff usually more expensive than non-recycled stuff. 

And on and on...

I just recently found out that I have the option for renewable energy through LADWP. So, instead of horribly polluting/environmentally irresponsible coal and nuclear power, I can choose renewable energy from sources such as biomass & waste (stuff we are throwing away anyway, so surely free) and wind (free, courtesy of God/Allah/The Universe/Mother Nature). Yipee! This makes me so happy, because global warming is some serious shit and according to leading scientists, pretty much almost too late.  

HOWEVER, this option, that will help our planet, is .03 cents per kilowatt more expensive. WTF. (sigh) So you mean to tell me that by using *free* stuff to power my home I have to pay approximately $5-15 MORE per month?? Tell me how this makes any sense.

*eyeroll*

*does it anyway*

Sing it, Kermit.

Piloxing

was offered a free class at the local gym tonight. I brought along a girlfriend and together we tried out something called piloxing. Supposedly it is a mix of Pilates and Boxing. That is, if Pilates and Boxing drank about 62 redbulls, 497 cups of coffee, and 122 mountain dews. I felt like a spider on cocaine.

just like this, except imagine all the legs working

Well, if it works for the supermodels. (because supermodels do coke)


Although, if the teacher is any indication, these spasm-like activities do not make one fit or thin looking. She was a chunker! Not to say she couldn't outlast me on a treadmill, kick my ass in a ring, or last longer in a squatting contest. But she looked like she should lay off the twinkies. I don't mean to be judgey mcjudgerson, but if you teach a fitness class, shouldn't you be, like, wayyy fitter than anyone else in the room?

like this lady, the owner/creator/more-fit-than-you piloxer queen

now, she makes me think this piloxing thing could whip my butt in shape, unlike the heifer teaching the class.

well anyway, I can't say that I would take it again. Unless it was free. And at a convenient time. Then maybe.  yeah, yeah, whatever Judgey cat.

Misconception or I should have known better

Remember when I used to work shopping for children?

I'll take this cute one, salesclerk.  Make sure you include the receipt.

Well, I got a chance to work on the other end of that. And boy was that juice not worth the squeeze.

My current part-time job is working for a 70+ year old acting a modeling school teaching kids and teens.  The curriculum is a 10 week course, and so far I have only subbed a few classes.  This past weekend I got the opportunity to work one of the recruiting events, or "free workshop" classes designed to entice kids to take the classes.

I got the email and it said to be there by 9:30AM, and there would be "workshops" at 10, 12, 3 and 5 and that lunch would be provided.  I figured that the last workshop would be maybe an hour or so and that I would be done by 6:30 or 7:00PM at the latest.  BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!

We didn't start the first workshop until about 10:30 or 10:45AM due to technical difficulties, and the workshops were lasting anywhere from 2-3 hours EACH. That is 2-3 hours of trying to entertain kids ranging from 6-18 years old. Two to three hours of wrangling bored parents into clapping for everyone and who could care less about any other child but their own.  And then repeat these tasks for FOUR different workshops. The last workshop of the day started at about 6:30PM and I was not done until almost 9:00PM. I barely got 30 minutes to scarf down the free lunch provided (a soggy Subway sandwich) and was standing in my heels practically the whole day.  And YES I would like some cheese with my whine.

If I didn't like the regular teaching gig so much/it didn't pay as well as it does I would have walked out of there at about 5PM, giving them a few choice words not fit for young ears.  But.  I would like to continue to work for them.  So.  I stayed.  But now I know.  If they ever want me to work a "free workshop" day again, they can go fuck themselves.

hoopty ride

Remember that one time last year (I love saying "last year" even though it was less than two months ago) I quit my job? Well, I was so excited to be outta there that when I raced out to my car, I hopped in and didn't notice the note on my windshield until I had already started to drive away. I saw it with a sinking feeling.  I hopped out, grabbed the note, and sure enough,

I hit your car pulling into the space next to you, I'm very sorry.  Please call (555) 555-5555 for my info (insurance) sorry again. Have a good day. 

And with that, my heart fell to my knees. My precious baby! My sweet love! I cannot believe somebody hurt you!! I race around the car, searching for the wound.  One lap around and I don't see anything.  What the? ... Second lap around, I notice a teensy small scratch and ding on the rear passenger door.  HUGE sigh of relief...

So finally after the holidays and being sick and trading emails with the poor kid who scratched my car, my sweet baby is in the shop getting repaired this week.  So I am going to rent a car while mine is being worked on.  I head into the rental place and they let me know that due to some mass-rental through Emerson College, my choice was a GMC Yukon or a GMC Yukon.  uhm... okay, I guess I'll take the Yukon?

This thing is HUGE. I mean, you could run over a small child and not notice.

"Did you hear something?"

"No, did you?"

"Guess not."

Seriously, I was driving this tank around and the only thing bigger than me on the road was an 18 wheeler.  Now, on the one hand, it gave me a little more sympathy for the people on the road driving these things.  They are huge and squirelly and can't exactly zip around.  Changing lanes requires a uniformed cop holding back the other cars on the road.  They aren't exactly the easiest things to drive.  But on the other hand, why the hell do you need so much car??? Are you really hauling that much crap around?

Here are some "fun" comparison specs:

Yukon: 5,685 pounds
Mazda 3: 2,866 pounds
(the Yukon is 2.3 times the size of my car)

Yukon: 222.4 inches/18.5 feet in length; 76.8 inches/6.4 feet in height (yes, I practically need a ladder to get into this ride)
Mazda 3: 180.7 inches/15 feet in length; 57.9 inches/4.8 feet in height

The Yukon can haul up to 9600 pounds!!! Someone tell me why anyone in LA needs to haul 9600 pounds.  Your kids aren't that fat.  Wanna know how much my Mazda can tow? Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Which is FINE because most of the time the only thing I'm hauling around is my own butt!

Anyway, I've got this behemoth for a week, so ... anyone need to move some furniture?

lets all give thanks

Thanksgiving this year meant my brother (once again) got off scott free since he lives in BFE and "has to" work during the holidays.  Lucky bastard.  I cannot remember the last thanksgiving he actually had to spend with the family.

I know, I know, this is supposed to be a time we are all thankful for the time we get to spend with our loved ones, but as every family sitcom ever told us, it is actually a time of eating our feelings and overexposure to people you love because you have to.

"The Neighbors"

"The New Girl"

"The Middle"

Now, my mother is what I affectionately call the "Tour Guide." Every time she comes to town she is armed to the hilt with a file folder full of magazine clippings, printings from the internet, newspaper articles, and scribbled notes of things to do in town.  I've lived in Los Angeles for a decade, but Tour Guide always seems to find things to do here that I've never done and/or never heard of before.  When she arrives, she goes through the litany of ideas for things to do, Dad and I veto the ones that sound gawd-awful-boring and end up with a list of things that if we really hurry, we can do them all.  Tour Guide plans our days, and we are off! 

We went on hikes, visited the self-realization center/temple/garden, picnicked on the beach, shopped in Malibu, went to the farmer's market, and a ton of other things I've already blocked from my memory.  We basically traipsed the city from morning till night.  Somehow, even with all the activities, I still managed to get grilled by both parents together and individually about my employment status and my relationship status.  You'd think with how busy we were there would be less time for scrutiny. Not so.  (sigh... because I don't feel like enough of a loser already)

Silver lining... we filled my gas tank and went to Trader Joe's to stock the larder and my wallet never left my purse.  I guess now that they are gone and I'm sitting here eating a sammy made from food they bought me I can see that we all pay a price - theirs is a charge on the credit card and mine is listening to them harp on about "aren't you tired of being poor and single" and "you could just move back home" and "what about that nice boy you used to date" and "you're a smart girl; surely somebody will hire you." 

Surely somebody will make me another sammy.  No? Guess I'll have to do that myself. 

everything you SHOULDN'T do to score big with the ladies

a real actual email I received on the man-candy-site. you can't make this shit up. 

you're a "normal person" and "educated." somehow I find this hard to believe.


allow me to address some of his questions:
"are you single?" uhmmmm, well, I am on a dating site, and my profile says I am single, so... yes.
"where are you from" again, pretty clear on my profile that I'm from Texas but have lived in NYC and am now in LA
"what are your interests?"well, again, I am going to direct you to my profile, where I list what I am all about and like to do.
"so you looking to settle down?" on my profile, which you clearly have not read, it states that I am looking for someone to spend my life with.  idiot.

listen bucko, you're 41, have no skills whatsoever, are hideously unattractive, think text messaging is a good way to get to know someone, and use patronizing terms like "sweetie."  you're going to have to do better than cut and paste. 

username: man4lady4me (huh? you want a man for a lady for you? this is supposed to appeal to a woman somehow?)
summary of his profile: each section is cut and pasted from the last section, with no further improvements in spelling or grammar. literally, each section is exactly the same as the last, even though the question is different and not at all answered in his cut and pasted essay.
personality conveyed on his profile page: highly bitter, rudely demanding, with his "likes" including swimming, jet skiing, shopping, theme parks, and cuddling.  random much?

fairly sure if I would have replied to his email he would have told me he just "won the lottery" in some foreign land but needed help to get the money, namely my bank account information.

hello, real man? boyfriend? I'm ready for you now please.

on a serious note

got a phone call at work the other day from a woman wanting the help-button.  turns out she is 38, uses a walker and Depends.  She used to be (in her words) "normal."

This woman, let's call her Alice, was working at a drug rehab recovery house where naturally there is a no-drug-dealing policy.  She saw another co-worker, let's call her DP (demented psychopath), doing a meth deal.  Well, if the po-po (fuzz, pigs, 5-0, the boys in blue, Johnny Law) found out that there was a drug deal going on, they ALL go down, but not if it is reported by someone.  Naturally, she reported DP to her BossLady.  Well, little did she know, BL and DP were in cahoots, so BL told DP that sweet responsible Alice had been the one to tell on her.  Demented Psychopath that she was, she decided to get revenge.

DP put very small amounts of DRANO in Alice's coffee every day. Apparently it is tasteless and odorless in coffee, and poor Alice had no idea until one day she up and keeled over. She was rushed to the emergency room but by then it was too late, her nervous system was forever changed.

Alice lives by herself, but has limited mobility (she is in a walker), is incontinent, and has no short-term memory.  By her words, she "won't remember this conversation five minutes after we hang up." She also falls all the time.  She is in worse shape than the 90 year old I just sold the button to last week, who still drives, is hilarious, sharp and hip.

The worst part is, her Aunt Sissy controls her finances, and when I called dear old Auntie to get her the help-button, the family cannot seem to come up with $30/mo to help poor Alice.  They are waiting for the government to give them something so they can get it for free.  I know times are tough, and I am not asking to take food off of anyone's table, but your poor niece is completely fucked out of a life.  (sigh)

Good news: (well, good-ish) the DP (deplorable person, demented psychopath, devil's partner) is rotting in jail.

This doesn't seem like quite the right blog to share this story, but I had such a moment today of feeling grateful for all that I have: my health, my family that loves me and would do anything for me, and the ability to follow my dreams and passions and live a life that I love; I wanted to share that possibility of hope and happiness with you, dear reader.  And if you feel so inclined, send a prayer, shout-out to the universe, some good mojo-juju, or peace love happiness vibrations to this poor woman whose life will be forever altered.

goin to the chapel and we're gonna get marrrrried

My bestie got married yesterday! I went down to San Diego for the wedding.  I was excited to be invited since the whole entire guest list was 12 people.  Talk about teensy! Anyway, it was a beautiful ceremony on a cliff overlooking the beach and ocean.  She has truly found her perfect man! I am so freakin happy for her!

The Wedding Site

After the wedding we all went out to dinner and had gallons of wine and heaps of food.  Well, as it turns out, the groom's bff and I were the only single folk at the wedding.  The entire group was "no-pressure"-ing us to hit it off.  Yeah.  Totally no pressure there.  Yikes.

Well, Herb* is a sweet, funny, engaging and gentlemanly.  He pulled out my chair at dinner. Yes, men, pay attention here because pulling out a lady's chair is super sexy.  HOWEVER. I am not particularly attracted to him physically.  He's not unattractive, I'm just not super attracted to him.

The night goes on, and so does the partying and drinking.  Herb seems quite enamored by me, but I'm not sure if it is genuine or just the wine or just a guy looking to hook up at a wedding with the only other single person.

So as it turns out, Herb's car is parked at the bride and groom's house (where I am cat-sitting for the night while they cozy up in a hotel honeymoon suite) so we both end up there at the end of the night.  Well Herb apparently needed to "sober up" before driving so he came inside.  I could just tell he was going to make a move. And he did.  Well now this is awkward.  I'm not sure I even want to do this, but if I don't, it will be super-duper-awkward for the rest of the weekend as we all hang out for wedding festivities.  Er, uh,... oh haha I love this movie! OMG did you see that commercial? Wow who are they advertising to at this time of night? So funny I just love watching late night TV! Spray on hair? No way! Call this number for fun flirty girls in your area? Hilarious! *SMOOCH* hmmm that wasn't so bad... *SMOOCHSMOOCH* well, if I have to...

Rest of the weekend? Smooth sailing my friends. No further makeouts required and he even invited me to join him in Vegas Sunday night. (Yes, I'm sitting in SoCal as I type, and no, I didn't go to Vegas. Although the prospect of a free trip did tempt me) Will I see him again? Well, he lives in Utah and will be traveling for the next three weeks out of the country.  ...so who knows? ;)

*name changed to something totally identifiable to anyone that knows him.  but not his real name. 

feelin frisky

So I work selling the help-button made famous by a really horrendous 80's commercial where a decrepit old lady fell and couldn't get up.  I never imagined I would have such fun talking to octogenarians!

Just the other day, I'm returning the call of a gentleman who had inquired about the help-button.  Well, Mr. Jacob Truelove* (yes that's really his last name!) from Louisiana was quite the, er, uh... talker! He was calling since he's 81 and lives alone at "the lake."  Our conversation went something like this:

Me: 

Hi Jacob this is Joanna from LifeClick*

JT: 

(in a thick Louisiana drawl) Well hi there Jo-Annaw

Me: 

I was calling you back about the help-button. What made you decide to call?

JT: 

Well, I lee-uv out here on the layke, and its juss me out heeyer, so I thought I would git some information for if ah ever need it.

Me: 

Well, (lying through my teeth) you don't sound old enough to need it; how young are you?

JT: 

(proudly) I'm 81 years yung.

Me: 

Oh wow! You sound so much younger! (not)

JT: 

(hack, cough) Thank yew! I've herd that before. So tell me about this Lahf-Click thang.

Me: 

Well, one push of the button and you've got help, whether you just want us to call a neighbor to come help you--

JT: 

Oh there ain't no one around me. I own this layke frunt propertee and no one around for miles. Jess the way I like it!

Me: 

Oh, ok well we can also call the paramedics for you if need be, and you can also push the button and we can dispatch police.

JT: 

Oh I won't never need no po-leece. I've got a gun, and I ain't afraid to use it. You sound real nahce, where you cawlling frum?

Me: 

I'm in Los Angeles.

JT: 

Oh I been out there bah-fore. Ahm out here in Loosiana. Yew ever been?

Me: 

Not since I was two, so I don't remember much.

JT: 

Well, yew should come out and visit me on the layke. Yew know, I'm still real WILD.

Me: 

Oh I bet you are. 

JT: 

Yew know it.

Me: 

Do you still drive, James? We have a 911 phone for when you're away from home. 

JT: 

Oh yeah! I tole you I'm still real Wild. I can still do lots of thangs. You should come out an visit me here at the layke. I got four alleegators and I feed'em cookies. 

Me: 

Cookies? For alligators?

JT: 

Oh yeah, I juss say, "c'mon boys" and they just come on over and I give'em cookies. 

Me: 

You're not afraid of them biting you?

JT: 

Naw, them boys is mah friends. 

Me: 

Oh, I see...

JT: 

Now this Lahf-Click thang, Ah don't know that Ah want it now, but yew could cawl me anytahm, even when yer not at work, ya know. 

Me: 

Uhm.

JT: 

I bet yer WILD too arn'cha? 

Me: 

You know it.

JT: 

Yeah, you should come visit me here at the layke. 

Me: 

If you bought a Life-Click from me maybe I will. (don't judge, mama needs a paycheck)

JT: 

Haha! Well, you come on out heeyer and we'll see about that. 

Me: 

(feeble laughter)

JT: 

Well, Ah'll let yew git back to work, but really, yew could cawl me anytime, when yer not at work even, oh-kay? Ah like tawlkin to yew. 

Me: 

Trust me, the pleasure has been all mine. 

JT: 

Ah'll bet it has. 

(Coincidentally, when you google images for "wild old man" a picture of Lindsay Lohan comes up.)  

I'm REAL Wild, ya know... 

*names kinda changed