01.31.08 And They Say Eating Chocolate Feels Like Having Sex
There is a Jergens commercial that has been playing every commercial break for about a week. It is, presumably, a Valentines Day commercial. A couple falls into bed and the voice over says "the difference between Valentines Day, and Valentines Night... is Jergens."
Cheesy? Sure. But what I like about this commercial is that this beautiful commercial couple are at home in sweat pants looking like normal people hanging out. In sweat pants, not lingerie, just like the rest of us.
And then I get mad at the commercial because now I want to make out a little, but I have nobody to make out with. Although that's not the commercials fault. And I'm pretty sure I'm just wanting to make out because I'm kind of PMS-ing and that makes me a little, pardon me for being crass, horny.
Instead I just ate a half-a-dozen chocolate chip cookies.
I am supposed to go climbing tomorrow night with The Hippie. I'm pretty sure he thinks it's a date. He asked if I had any friends who would like to come because he's bringing a buddy. Some guy he met last weekend. He's a doctor.
My first thought was "I wonder if he's cute?"
It would be inappropriate to hit on the buddy of a guy who is thinking we're on a date. I should probably cancel. Maybe I'm just looking for an excuse to not go. I was looking forward to some Netflix...
I once canceled a date two nights in advance and cited the inclement weather that we might have as the reason. This sounds almost as bad.
I usually update my link lists pretty regularly to reflect new blogs I have a crush on, but ever since I started using the Google Reader that practice has fallen by the wayside.
Until last night. I was updating my calendar for February and decided to update my blog while I was at it.
I also am taking up the challenge Stacy at The Best Life Ever threw down. Pick some simple goals (and stick to them). Here are mine:
No booze except on weekends.
Cardio three times a week.
Crunches and push-ups every day.
Ugh. You know when you wake up on a Thursday morning and you think it's Friday all day, and then around 2 pm you realize it's only Thursday and than you groan aloud and bitch to your coworkers about it?
Yeah, well I thought it was Saturday when I got up this morning. I figured it out pretty early, but it's throwing off my whole mojo. Now it feels like the longest week ever.
Leading up to the most boring weekend ever. At least I hope so. If everything goes according to plan I am doing absolutely nothing but sitting on the couch (or laying down on the couch), watching movies (yay Netflix) and watching football and eating wings. I grill up the best wings on earth (according to me anyway). I have learned from last years mistake, and double checked that my propane tank is full and ready to go.
I might get up off my lazy ass long enough to go climbing for a few hours with The Hippie on Friday night. Date? Not a date? I don't care anymore, I think I'm happier if we just stay friends.
And yes, I called the boy from the party. I Left a pleasant voice mail and my phone number and if he gives me a holler, I'll go out with him and have some more good conversation. If he doesn't call me up for a date, no skin off my back. He is, after all, a stranger that I had one good conversation with.
When I was little I dreamt of my dream job when I grew up. I wanted to be either a stewardess or a waitress. I'd run around the house fake-chewing gum and taking my parents "orders" on a little pad of paper I kept in my apron pocket. My parents would roll their eyes because, out of all the things you could be? A waitress? Or a waitress with a death wish? (That's what my dad calls stewardesses)
They were right of course, but I thought both jobs were the height of glamour.
Until I dropped out of college and made my money bringing people food. Not really the worst job I've ever had. Tough on the feet, but I was a really great server, and I enjoyed it
Unless my hard work and attention to detail was rewarded with a shitty tip. In Colorado, when I was in the industry servers made $2.15 and hour. My twice monthly paychecks always totaled $0.00.
Most people know better, and poor tips were few and far between, but no thanks to that skank Rachel Ray.
Have you ever watched that show $40 a Day With Rachel Ray? She tips like, a dollar no matter where she eats or what she has, and you know she always receives impeccable service.
With very few exceptions when I got bad tips it wasn't a reflection of poor service. Not that I didn't deserve a bad tip once or twice. Forget to ring in an order, spill a strawberry margarita on someones lap. Accidents happen, and in a decade of serving a few of these accidents were my fault.
More often or not, though, I chalked these bad tips up to someone who was cheap or just didn't know better. Therein lies the problem I have with Rachel Ray. You know she knows better, and if you can't afford to eat for $40.00 a day without leaving a shitty tip, than eat for $50 or $60 dollars a day. Set some kind of example for the people watching your show, because the people serving your food work long hours and most of them genuinely want you to have a great experience.
I can't watch Rachel Ray anymore without screaming at the television. Now I watch Anthony Bourdain. He is adventuresome, funny and interesting and he agrees with me about Rachel Ray, as if I needed another reason to love him.
Hi lady! I read your funny blog and then I read my emails and lo and behold...here's a message from D. He didn't want you to think he was "Johnny Beergoggles-At-The-Bar-Guy" and didn't really want to get your number, so he sent me his number to give to you in case you wanted to call him. So here it is: ###-###-####. Enjoy!
So I guess I'll call him up. And maybe one day Ivory and I can compare notes (hahaha). But don't hold your breath, we'll see, I don't have the greatest degree of confidence in my date choosing abilities these days.
On an only slightly related note, how old is too old to refer to these boys as boys? Do I need to start saying something like "I met a man" instead of "I met a boy"? What's the cut off there?
You know it's a busy week when you are already tired and it's only Wednesday.
My brain finally feels like it's working again, so that's good. Monday was long, end of the day meetings are killers for me, my brain slows down significantly after 2 pm, and by 4:30 I'm barely able to string enough words together to form complete sentences.
After my 4 pm meeting all I wanted to do was head home and melt into the couch, but I had dinner plans with Kate. I sucked it up and turns out I had a great evening. Kate is in town for a work thing, so I picked her up at her hotel and we went to Fontana Sushi.
I'm an adventurous eater, and I love trying new things, so for the life of me I can't tell you why I'd never tried sake before. Kate shamed me into trying it. Though I've always heard it was an acquired taste, I could definitely learn to like it. Tasted sort of like drinking a dirty martini and eating a handful of jelly beans at the same time. But in a good way, if that makes sense.
Every time I eat sushi, I try something new. Last night we ordered a scallop roll. Neither of us ate much of it, I was expecting an appropriately gooey texture, but it was a little too oozy in the middle. Not for me.
After dinner we went and had a beer and got caught up, it hasn't been that long, only about a month. Called it an early evening because a) it was Monday night and we both have jobs and b) I was committed to judging a elementary school science fair Tuesday morning.
The science fair was soooo cute. First through sixth graders. Some of the projects were actually good which surprised me, I always totally phoned in my science projects when I was little. One little slacker even did the exact same project I did when I was a little slacker.
Last night I met Suzie to try on bridesmaid dresses and Suz showed me The Dress she picked out. Very beautiful. Ivory was going to join us but wasn't feeling well. It was too bad, because I think it would have been a lot more fun if she'd been there to dole out dry quick witted Ivory-opinions.
Today should be long too, I'm spending this morning holed up in the library trying to make a dent in some major homework I have due next week, and then more meetings. Meetings, meetings, meetings. I feel like we say the same thing at every meeting. Ugh.
The Hippie wants to go climbing tonight. I don't think I'm up to it. I haven't been home since Friday and I want to just sit still and be quiet. I'm tired.
Awesome movie. I wasn't disappointed, but I don't have too much to say about it.
Garden State- 5 Stars
I postponed seeing this movie for a very long time. Some people talked it up so much, I assumed it couldn't live up to the hype. Other people hated it vehemently. I love it. The first time I saw this it elicited a feeling of such profound loneliness it was almost overwhelming. It had the same effect on me this time. Somehow, maybe because it is a manufactured feeling, it is acutely pleasurable.
Saturday night at the party, I was having a great conversation with a relatively funny guy. We talked most of the night and eventually he asked for my number so he could call me up and ask me out for a date. I was pretty pleased with this new development because, hey, I like dates with good conversationalists.
But here is the problem.
I am notorious for having the attention span of a tic tac. I was enjoying the conversation and laughing and talking and I'm pretty sure I forgot to give him my number. I meant to, but I got distracted. He probably thinks I was blowing him off. Oops.
Eh. With my track record he probably would have turned out to be another wacko.
My brain and my body were having a total disconnect all day yesterday and I've been occupied all day today, but I'm finally feeling like writing about the party.
It makes my heart feel so full to be around so many friends. Saturday night was one of those perfect party nights where everyone mingles and chats, I met lots of new people and had excellent quality time with my old standbys.
I headed over to Suzie's house early on Saturday. We passed on the zoo, it was a beautiful day, but the crowd was unbelievable. I started feeling claustrophobic just thinking about it.
We opted for a little shopping instead. And then dinner, wine and getting ready at her place. I'd brought a couple of options, and appropriate tights for each dress. I settled on the striped dress, but when I pulled on my opaque black tights I couldn't miss the huge run down the back. My only other option were the thigh-high fishnets that I'd brought along to wear with a longer dress.
I love these fishnets. I got them out of an old box of dress up clothes my grandma had kept since she was probably younger than me. Ancient fishnets, exquisitely made silk stockings, gorgeous vintage lingerie. If I could go back in time and pry them out of my grubby 5 year old hands...
And anyway, are thigh high fishnets and a garter belt still slutty if there is less than 0.001% chance that anyone might see you in them? I think not so much.
I almost deleted this terrible picture, but Suzie and I laughed so long and so hard at it, that she convinced me to keep it. The unfortunate effect of the most unflattering lighting ever is, as Suz put it, that she looks like she got hit upside the head with a shovel.
I always tried to keep a diary (when I was little) or a journal (when I was old enough that it wasn't cool anymore to call it a diary). I have many blank books floating around in my bookshelves with just a few pages filled out, I'd give up the ghost after a few entries.
One journal I've kept in particular (hidden in my underwear drawer with my blank checks). I started it during a relationship that I've never talked about here on the blog. At the time, I thought journaling, writing it all down, would help me figure things out. In retrospect all I think when I read it was what a fucking moron I was, and did I have no self respect? (The answer to that question is yes, I had no self respect.)
My point here is... definitely not writing about old journal entries.
One thing I realized is that all those years of earnestly trying to journal my teen angst and the banalities of my day to day were to no avail. But give me an audience and an excuse to post eleventy-thousand pictures of me dancing and winking into the mirror, and that's a plan I can stick to.
I was watching the news tonight and I caught a segment on recent college grads and their concern about the job market. The two people they interviewed were a psychology major and a photo journalism major.
Could the unemployment rate ever be low enough for these these two grads (with their respective degrees) to ever not have to worry about the job market?
I might have a unique perspective considering almost everyone I know is an engineer. And to be fair the only person I know who isn't an engineer just got laid off. But seriously, if you're main concern is marketability, maybe a bachelors degree in liberal arts isn't the best move.
Updated: I'm not bagging on liberal arts degrees. The world would be a much less interesting and worthwhile place without art, music, and creativity. My criticism is of the news station and the segment's producer.
I'm pretty forthcoming here on the blog. I don't keep a lot of secrets, it's just my nature, and while it sometimes gets me in trouble, I like wearing my heart on my sleeve.
There is, however, something I've been hiding. Suzie knows, but she's been keeping my secret for months. I've decided to come out of the closet today. Some of you may have suspected, but here it is.
I may not be have the heart of stone that my tough facade might lead you to believe. While I don't want marriage and babies right now, and I may never want a big white dress wedding of my own, I truly delight in the celebrations and preparations of others.
I love weddings, engagement parties and baby showers. There I've said it.
I enjoy sitting on the couch and pouring through catering menus and bridal catalogs. I like digging through racks of bridesmaids dresses and pages of baby books.
I'm addicted to Ivory's and Lisa's blogs, it's like a little peek into a parallel universe. I squealed like a sorority girl when I saw Tanya's wedding dress. I actually suggested Suzie and I peel ourselves off the couch one Sunday to go look at dresses in Cherry Creek at a bridal shop with Ivory.
I do eat up the drama, but this is about the clothes. OK, it's mostly about the clothes.
Click here to see a slide show of the designs. (via Bravotv.com)
Here is how I would have ranked the designs this week:
Design by Sweet P, Modeled by Lea.
Sweet P. got shafted this week! This dress was awesome. She took a risk using the different denims, and after editing out the long skirt the result was well made, pretty and not at all hippie-dippie.
Design by Ricky, Modeled by Amanda
Ricky finally made something that isn't totally hideous. This is youthful and fun and pretty, and I understand why he won because it is more reminiscent of Levi's 501's than Sweet P.'s garment.
Design by Rami, Modeled by Sam.
I really don't like Rami as much as the judges, but his garment this week was good. Interesting construction, perspective and detail. But. The only times I like Rami's work are when he is forced to work with a fabric choice he'd never choose for himself. I could not be more sick of him draping Jersey.
Design by Christian, Modeled by Lisa.
I can't believe nobody has punched Christian in the mouth yet. I just want him to shut up. And despite his declarations that it was the only fierce design on the runway this week. I didn't really care for this. The construction was interesting i suppose, but it just left me sort of flat.
Design by Chris, Modeled by Marcia
Hey sailor. Chris has done a good job of editing his designs down from the ridiculous, but this still looks costume-y.
Design by Jillian, Modeled by Lauren.
Of the two ugly jackets this week, I at least like Jillian's in theory. It was too ambitious and the design suffered for it, but at least it was a new design and it had a perspective.
Design by Victorya, Modeled by Jacqueline Victorya's design, on the other hand, is just ugly and uninspired. And Ugly.
01.23.08 And I'll have an Extra Side of Crazy Please
My word The Bartender is nuts. I haven't actually talked to him since before Christmas, but he's apparently persistent. And a lunatic.
Things have not gotten better. He isn't leaving drunken, ranting voice mails calling me a Big Mean Bitch (followed up by a sappy apologetic text message) anymore. Now he is sending me short, but very vulgar e-mails every other day. Things I won't repeat here for fear of the wackos that would be led here by Google, and I don't need anymore of those.
The pattern now is nasty e-mail, followed the next day by an e-mail that says, "I thought we had such a connection...", followed by a nasty e-mail. Lather, rinse, repeat.
And he called Jill's friend again, and said "if you won't give me her number, please ask her to call me."
Like that's going to happen. I don't know who this guy thinks he is.
I've always really liked Richard Dreyfuss. He's quirky and charming and short, all traits I like in men. True to form he was all of those things in this movie. The movie itself was cheesy, it was made in 1977 though, and if it were made today I hope the message would be different. Less damsel waiting to be rescued and more... go out and get a job. But it was cute and romantic.
Little Miss Sunshine- 4 Stars
I heard from everyone how good this movie was. All that hype almost killed it for me, about half way through I'd decided it was stupid, but in the end I really liked it. If you haven't, go see it.
I've been reading The Piano Teacher by ElfrideJelenek, winner of the 2004 Nobel Prize for Literature.
It was also made into a movie which I will be Netflix-ing as soon as I finish the book.
I'm about half way through this book, and I find the authors use of the written word fascinating. A lot of the subject matter is vulgar and, you would think, titillating. However Jelenek has made talk of fetish and sex clubs nothing short of clinical. The characters are incredibly complex and frustrating.
The first time I met Kate's little brother David was in 1999. I answered the door at the sorority house we were living in to find a tiny 9 year old with great big glasses who, after knowing me for all of 3 minutes, launched into an epic tale about the intricacies of Pokemon.
Fast forward the this past Sunday morning. Dave meets us for a hangover-helper breakfast. Cute little David is now 18 year old Dave who plays both baseball and football for his college. Over the next 2 hours, just how much things have changed in the past 10 years becomes very clearly illuminated.
The first: My body simply refuses to tolerate alcohol the way it used to. I used to drink all night, roll out of bed bright and early and run off to class. Now even after moderate drinking my body seems hell-bent to punish me with savage hangovers. We're talking a day lost to the couch and Netflix because I can't manage to do anything when I'm hungover anymore.
The second: I wore a turtleneck to a dance club this weekend. A turtleneck! I used to hootchie it up with the best of them. Lots of skin, tiny skirts, plenty of cleavage, exposed midriffs. Now I to cover it up. I opt for pretty and flattering as opposed to skanky and hot.
The last: Kate and I were bitching about how tired we were, how late we stayed up, when Dave interjected "does you idea of late change as you get older?"
Kate and i swapped a quick glance, hung our heads in shame and nodded affirmatively. He then asked how late we stayed up We figured it must have been about 2 in the morning by the time we got a cab home and hit the sack. Turns out Dave was up drinking with his buddies until 5 in the morning.
He laughed and called us old many, many times. At first I was on the defensive, then I remembered this guy I dated who was 28 when I was 21. I thought he was as old as the hills and I was 4 years older at the time than Dave is now. Of course he thinks we're old. I refuse to say that we are, but I will concede that we're on our way.
And that's fine with me. How miserable does staying up drinking until 5 in the morning sound?
Saturday night was every bit as eventful as Friday night was mellow. Mak and Kate were in town for a friend's 30th birthday. Festivities included drinks, a Nuggets game and dancing at an incredibly cheesy nightclub. All in all lots of fun.
I was just looking at my old post's and one year ago I was bitching about having to watch Tom Brady in the playoffs and pondering my incredibly bad taste in men.
Huh. I can't that believe absolutely nothing has changed.
This week might have been the most hectic week I've ever had working. Long days, early mornings, skipped lunch hours. It sounds terrible, and it would be if every week were like this week, but this week felt great. It is very satisfying to get so much accomplished.
I finally finished working about 8:30 last night. If I had any sort of life at all that might have bothered me, but I don't so it was fine. I got home shortly thereafter, and had the perfect evening. I made some tacos for dinner as planned but instead of watching a movie I put on some tunes and cleaned my apartment, a task that was desperately overdue. It was nice to wake up to a clean home this morning and after Murph and I go outside to walk I'm making breakfast.
So, I've been looking forward to my Friday night/ Saturday morning all week. Here is what I have planned:
Friday Night
Chicken tacos with all the fixin's (made from leftover supermarket rotisserie chicken)
Laundry!
Watching a movie and having a snuggle with my dog
Saturday
Corned beef hash (50% reduced fat) and eggs and hot coffee
Vacuuming!
Reading in my chair by the window all day
I know, I know The Golden Girl's are more madcap than I am.
But... I've had a hectic week, and I want to relax. The snow that started falling an hour ago is only intensifying the desire to hole up in my apartment and slow down.
Last night I did a V05 hot oil treatment on my hair and this morning woke up to super curly springy hair instead of my usual sort of curly sort of limp locks. So FYI V05 hot oil = extra curly curls.
I do eat up the drama, but this is about the clothes. OK, it's mostly about the clothes.
Click here to see a slide show of the designs. (via Bravotv.com)
Here is how I would have ranked the designs this week:
Design by Victorya and Jillian
I think it is a tough call between the first two avantgarde looks this week, and although I think Chris and Christians was more show stopping, the challenge was to create two looks. This jacket is amazing, and the shirt underneath was gorgeous.
It is the ready-to-wear look that makes me think they deserve the win, it's actually very cohesive and super cute.
Design by Christian and Chris If the challenge would have been just the avantgarde piece, this would have been my pick for the win hands down. I'm actually speechless it is so beautiful.
This on the other hand, talk about just dialing it in. If the ruffles on the shirt had been a little more over the top and the skirt had been constructed better it could have been salvaged, but as is, blech.
Design by Rami and Sweet P So I think Rami is a prick and a one trick pony. Enough with the draping, and enough with the throwing people under the bus even though you should have totally listened to then and added a bustle.
Sweet P's dress here is great. She deserved a lot more credit than Rami gave her.
Design by KIT and Ricky I was so disappointed in this because when they were designing the concept I got so excited about what I pictured in my head. Layers and layers and layers of aprons. Could have been cool, but this, this is ugly.
But not as ugly as this. Although I do like the neckline. But I'd have much rather seen Ricky go than KIT.
Driving to school this morning I started thinking about the conversation I had last night with my mother at dinner. We were talking about my friend Tanya's upcoming wedding, or more accurately wedding invitations and plus one's. I said I can't imagine I'd have a date but still the prospect of attending a wedding alone was not appealing, maybe I'll make Jill come with me.
My mom replied "Well maybe you'll have met the one by then."
Once I got over the shock of my relatively insensitive mother saying something so nice, we started to really talk about that. I'll spare you the minutiae, but here's what I figured out. I'm not sure I'm ready for all that.
So why then am I dating at all? Most nights I'd just as soon make dinner, watch TV or read a book and hang out by myself with the menagerie. Sure I like going out, but with my girlfriends. I hardly ever talk to anyone I don't already know when we're out. I don't see my friends enough to squander that precious hang out time on random boys in bars.
The more my mom and I talked about this, the more I came to realize the truth. I'm not ready to get married, but maybe I'm a little bit afraid of being left behind.
I am the only single girl I know:
Jill- lives with her boyfriend
Kate- married
Suzie- engaged
Tanya- engaged Sameera- married
Ivory- married (and pregnant!)
Gina- married
Sarah- lives with her boyfriend
Lisa- married (with 2 kids!)
OK, Heather is single but I only see her once a year.
I don't mean left behind like poor me, I'm single and so lonely. I actually have a very high tolerance for loneliness. I enjoy living alone and being alone. What I mean is I'm afraid of being forgotten. Who wants a third wheel hanging out all the time? Afraid of not being invited out because it's couples night, afraid of drifting apart because I don't have kids and can't relate to the new world of strollers and baby bumpers or maybe I'm just not little kid appropriate.
I am 100% aware that this is just my issue. My friends are great, and everyone moves on. Everyone should move on, and I'm happy for all the happiness these changes are bringing into my friends' lives. I'm happy to be able to witness and share and take part in these changes too.
I know I have to grow up too and move on. Maybe get married and start a family. I surely can't stay in school forever and I wouldn't want too.
I just don't want to settle down (or just settle) because I'm alone.
Some people get to wear cute little outfits to work, suits or slacks and nice shoes. Not me, mine is a dirty job. That is why I wear what I call my uniform every day.
I wear a white men's v-neck undershirt and these jeans every single day, and I have for almost 2 years now. The holes are from sulfuric acid, and the red mud is the ore I'm currently working with. I go home every day absolutely covered in it. A nice hot shower when I get home is probably my favorite thing.
I am used to bring covered in mud, but this:
Seriously? That's just unnecessary. Like I, of all people, need to draw any more attention to my nipples.
I am so thrilled that this is my last semester of grad school. I was supposed to be done with classes, but the monkey wrench associated with my ex-advisor's absconding to greener pastures necessitated a pretty major change in the game plan.
Up until this semester all of my course work has been in thin film technology, which makes a lot of sense because my thesis was on plasma diagnostics during thin film deposition. But, the best laid plans... so thesis schmesis, I've started over.
I figured that because my project is actually extractive metallurgy I'd take some extractive classes. But I was the only one, and one student does not a class make and my classes this semester were canceled. Since I am so far beyond caring, I enrolled for the three classes offered this semester I haven't taken yet. They are all taught by the same professor, that's right folks, all Professor Pacific Phemomena, all the time.
Quirks aside he is truly brilliant I I really like his teaching style. So OK, classes, check. Project, well crazy deadlines this week, but check. It seems like I'm forgetting something... what could it be... oh right! I forgot to sign my contract, so I'm not getting paid until February. Slick. Because I can really afford that right now.
I don't have a lot of friends, but the friends I do have are fantastic. Right now is such a crazy time for everyone that I was pleasantly surprised that 6 of us were able to get together for dinner.
I know you guys (Tanya and Sarah) are probably waiting for pictures and I'll get some up soon, I promise, but I'm having one of those awesome Mondays where things need to be done yesterday and I'm totally busy. But in a good way, better than being bored.
Last night I went out with The Hippie, who, by the way, cleans up quite nicely. Last time I saw him he had this girlie little dutch boy haircut but it has since grown out to a sort of sexy sensitive little Johnny Depp shag.
The night started out innocently enough, I hadn't been thinking of this outing as a date, just an outing. We had dinner at the eponymously named Ethiopian Restaurant. We both had the Yebeg Wat, lamb in spicy butter sauce, my favorite.
After dinner we went to the South Broadway Christian Church, to see the Denver 1st Place Winner of the 2007 Denver Classical Guitar Society Debut Competition, Ryan Fiegl.
That all sounds pretty impressive, but I'm pretty sure this was this guy's first concert. His second song totally derailed and he was all nervous. Everyone has to start somewhere. I was reading the program and at first I was a little amazed that this guy is getting his masters degree in classical guitar, it sounds so esoteric, but then I realized loads of people have never heard of metallurgy so who am I to judge.
This little concert was cool in that I feel like I was exposed to an entire little sub-community of classical guitarists who live here in Denver. Most of them are geeky teen aged boys with creepily long fingernails (for the pluckin'), but some of them are geeky men with creepily long fingernails.
Still, it was a completely different way for me to spend a Saturday night, and I had a great time. After the concert The Hippie took me back to my car, and right after I said goodnight he got all weird, rolled down his window and sort of shouted at me asking if I wanted to grab a drink, because hey, the night was still young.
OK. The thing about Mines boy's is wow are they awkward! But I sure do know from awkward so I have a pretty high threshold. We headed just around the corner to the PS Lounge and had a few beers.
So, Statements....
Jill and I have this little joke about making Statements. It seems like whenever I make a bold statement I inevitably end up doing the exact opposite of said statement. Like Saturday afternoon when I said "I am not going to make out with The Hippie." Whoops.
Is anyone actually surprised that I made out with The Hippie? I hate being a forgone conclusion.
So I got a call tonight from The Hippie. I haven't seen him since October, he came over one night to watch the World Series, game three I think. I made dinner, he brought a six pack. It was a little weird because he kept trying to give me a back massage. I sooo wasn't having it. We stopped sleeping together years ago, and now we have a decent friendship that pretty much centers around climbing and that's cool with me.
So game three, he was trying his best to get in my pants. He is a cute guy, but an engineer nonetheless (PhD in Materials Science, we met in the lab) and his best just isn't that smooth. It finally got to the point where I either had to call him on it or things were going to get weird between us.
I was about to do just that when my phone rang, it was The Boy calling to talk about the game. My voice must have changed (you know, tee heehee and whatnot) because as soon as I hung up The Hippie looked at me and said "oh now I get it." To which I replied that even if I hadn't been interested in someone else he surely wouldn't have had a chance. I reminded him what happened last time we hooked up and told him we're going to be friends without benefits.
Well last night out of the blue I get a phone call from who else but The Hippe. He has two tickets to see a show on Saturday night and would I like to join him. Well, I would indeed. Here is his plan transcribed in as much of his stream-of-consciousness style rambling as I can replicate:
He is going to the IMAX, would I please meet him in Denver at 5:30 because he wants to have dinner first. Or he can come pick me up if I don't want to meet him. I'll meet him? Great! OK, the tickets are on him, but we're going dutch on dinner. He wants to be very clear on this because sometimes girls get pissed when they go dutch and he doesn't want to piss me off. Is that OK? It is? Great! He'll look up the time of the IMAX just to be sure. What do I want for dinner? Maybe Thai? Indian? Ethiopian? Whatever I want is just fine but the concert starts at 7:30. It would be best if we get there at 7 Is that OK? It is? Great!
And on, and on, and on like this. I have to interrupt him three times to tell him to focus. I think he was a little nervous. It was kind of cute. If this was anyone else but The Hippie I'd probably be going back and forth in my mind: Is this a date? Is this not a date? But since it isn't anyone else, it's The Hippie I think I'll just relax and enjoy an evening of lamb with spicy butter sauce from my favorite Ethiopian restaurant and some classical guitar.
I do eat up the drama, but this is about the clothes. OK, it's mostly about the clothes.
Click here to see a slide show of the designs. (via Bravotv.com)
Here is how I would have ranked the designs this week:
Design by Jillian Modeled by Erika
I can't believe the judges swept this pretty dress under the rug! It's so prom-pretty, age appropriate, and it looks great. The fit on the runway did look a little wonky, but here it looks great.
Design by Sweet P Modeled by Nicole
Sweet P gave this girl exactly what she wanted while steering her away from skanksville. How glamorous, just what I think 17 year old's are looking for come prom-time.
Design by Victorya Modeled by Jessica
I really like this dress, I love it for a 17 year old, but I'm not sure that I love it for the prom. Prom is all about going nuts and getting really dressed up, this is fun, but maybe too much so.
Design by Chris Modeled by Krista
This makes the little voice in my head sing "you'll love Da-a-vid'sBri-i-dal." But that's OK, because it was a prom dress challenge, and this is a really pretty prom dress. And I love the color!
Design by Kit Modeled by Brie
The colors are vibrant, yet this still looks a little mature, and a little too casual for the prom. But it would be great for a casual evening wedding.
Design by Rami Modeled by Bianca Not formal enough for the prom, but I want this dress.
Design by Christian Modeled by Maddie
Poor Christian! If the construction had been better, I'd have said he did a great job of making this girl an edited version of the dress she asked for. Did she ask for some chains at one point? I'm not sure, but I think so. I can squint and see this dress finished well and super cute. But that isn't what happened here. Instead Christian let this little girl work him into a tizzy and his work suffered for it. He should have just smiled, rolled his eyes and made this dress the right way.
Design by Kevin Modeled by Tizi
This is an ugly ill-fitting dress, but poor Kevin got jacked this week. The proportion is off, I think it should be longer, and the fit is bad, but it's no where near as bad as Ricky's monstrosity.
Design by Ricky Modeled by Katie
Ugh, this hurts my eyes. Boring, unflattering, and such a non event. Ricky is one lucky little cry baby. And can I just say, that yes, the producers only show him crying, so that's a little manufactured, but seriously, he still cries a lot. To have that many tears available for the editing room to choose from, well, I guess that's why he hasn't been au'fed yet.
Yesterday I mad a migraine so I closed all shades the took a few darvocet and slept all morning. I really can only sleep so long without a sleeping pill, and watching TV with a migraine is absolutely out of the question. I started feeling better around two, but I didn't want to risk it, so I curled up with a new book for a while. Every year for Christmas my mom gives me a big stack of books, each year she chooses a theme, Pulitzer winners, Nobel winners, one year there were graphic novels and children's books. Almost always books I'd never buy myself, and I love working my way through her selections.
Yesterday I just grabbed the one on top of the stack.
I haven't read the review yet, I like to read the book first and make up my own mind, but I look forward to reading it when I'm done. So far I'm not too sure about this one. I'm barely into it, so I can't say much about the story, but I am a little wary of the writing itself. There is a lot of gratuitous language, language doesn't bother me when it serves a purpose (I love Palahniuk, Robbins), but in this case the author seems only to want to shock the reader (and to very little effect), and I like to be given a little more credit than that.
The Bartender sent me this massive e-mail asking what went wrong and why I don't want to see him anymore. I want to tell him, but I'm afraid the truth will be too mean.
Here it is:
1. His day job is in commercial real estate. I found his incessant talk about "cold calling" unbelievably obnoxious, but what really did it was when he called up NREL to ask about leads for leasing wet lab space and got offended when they didn't return his calls. Forgive me, but who the hell does this guy think he is? Kind of like calling up the Navy and asking if they know where you can rent a rowboat.
2. He was bitching about one of his roommates, specifically he really liked one guy she was dating. He felt she wasn't as into him as she should be and threatened to kick her out of the house if she didn't shape up. I really couldn't believe his audacity. Is he her landlord or her father? And why was it any of his business? I asked him that and he got mad at me because I wasn't on his side.
3. Crossing the Maginot Line of creepy and asking for Jill's number. Um stalker?
I know those first two might seem kind of frivolous, but you know when something disgusts you and you just can't shake it? That's what happened. I could feel the disgusted look on my face, and I knew it just wouldn't go away. Plus, we only went out 4 times for Christ's sake! Do we have to have this long break-up talk with people we only go out with a few times now? That seems like overkill.
So what do you think? Should I lay it on him, or should I say something more innocuous like I didn't see this going anywhere, or, it's not you it's me. Strike that last one, I'm not that good a liar.
So Jill would like me to make a correction, she would prefer we call him Cap'n Douchebag. Apparently there is a difference.
So the simple act of saying it out loud, or at least the blogging equivalent of saying it out loud, typing it up and hitting publish, was kind of the slap in the face I needed. Admitting to the pathetic pining made me realize, or finally believe the simple truth.
The thing about boys, is that they are very simple. If you have to ask if they like you, they don't. If they want to talk to you, they call.
OK, I still don't understand why one would go through all the trouble of telling you he likes you if he obviously doesn't. Why even bother?
But, I feel like I took a deep breath. It really is better to be honest and rejected than to sit and wonder all the time. I resolve to be a little less pathetic in the future. I'm not usually all that pathetic. Quite the opposite actually. I feel better.
And that's not all, tomorrow is my first day of my last semester of grad school. I am dying to get out of there, I've been at Mines for way too long. I'm having dinner on Thursday with some spectacular ladies at Osteria Marco, The Bartender has stopped calling me twenty times a day, and on Friday I have a second date with The PhD.
I never told you guys about the first date! It was my blind date from a couple of weeks ago. Nice guy, maybe a little boring but you can't really make that kind of judgment call after only one date. He was nice and the conversation was interesting and he genuinely made me laugh. He has a PhD in computer science from CU and he works and live in Denver. We had a nice dinner and made plans to go out again after the holidays.
I figure if I just go out with everyone I'll meet someone who is both the kind of guy I'm looking for, and actually interested in me. I'm not in a hurry, I've got plenty of time, I'll just date everybody in Denver. And Golden. And maybe Boulder.
You know that scene in Superbad, where Evan and Becca are drunk in a room at Jules' party, wait, this scene:
Yeah, that's pretty much what I looked like (minus the booting) on Saturday, our first night in Basalt. Not my finest hour. Truly horrifying.
A little back story; one of the first weekends I spent at The Boy's house, before we even smooched or crossed any kind of friend line, I had a really vivid dream about giving him a, um, a type of job we'll say. I woke up the next morning so embarrassed and haunted by it all day (it was really detailed) that I finally told him about it during a hike that afternoon. Needless to say he brought it up almost constantly for the next two days.
Fast forward to Sunday morning last weekend. I wake up with a remarkable headache, I mean this is a whopper of a hangover (the first of many in the next few days). I roll over because he's waking up too and I tell him "it's the damnedest thing, but I had that dream again." To which he replies "ummmmm, not so much a dream this time."
I can only imagine that, as sloppy drunk as I was, it must have been the worst "job" in the history of all "jobs" everywhere. But I'm only speculating. He tried to tell me about it the next morning and I had to stuff my fingers in my ears and sing La-La-La-La-La at the top of my lungs. I think I'm happier not knowing the specifics.
The rest of the weekend went as follows:
Sunday night I'm asleep on the couch while he's busy booting whiskey off our friend's back porch.
New Year's Eve we both passed out on the couch all sorts of early, and Tuesday night when he left, he gave me a high five. Yep, a high five. Nothing says "I find you irresistible" like a high five.
So, things aren't exactly going the way I'd hoped.
And I am totally stuck in my head.
The whole time I'm thinking how uninterested he is, he's apparently talking to our friends about how much he does, in fact, like me, acting jealous when I go outside to catch up with an old friend from college, and bitching that I'm going to meet someone else when Katie and I go into Aspen for the day.
He truly is the master of mixed messages.
After many moons of worrying over said mixed messages I decided to heed Jill's advice and tell him how I feel, and then I could at least stop worrying about it whatever the outcome.
I am not particularly expressive when it comes to my emotions, so I could understand if he really didn't know that I like him in a more-than-platonic way, especially after the e-mail I sent him last month.
So I laid it on the table, so to speak (In an e-mail, my cell was dead and my charger was in Basalt):
Sometimes I am absolutely certain that you dig me, and other times I'm absolutely certain that you don't at all. I totally can't figure you out, and I'm tired of guessing, so I figures I'd just ask. I guess I never told you either, but I like you quite a bit. I suppose I'm not good at showing that because I'm kind of nervous about having feelings for someone, and I'm excellent at being alone. I haven't met anyone like you probably ever, and I think it would be stupid to act like i don't care one way or the other. This is one of the most humiliating things I think I've ever said, but I guess I'd just rather risk it and be rejected than always wonder and regret not putting it out there. Although maybe the fact that I am even wondering should be a big enough clue for me outright. You can certainly tell me to take a hike, but like I said I'd rather just know than not know.
Seriously, could I be worse at this?
OK, so his reply, perfect as always.
I originally included his e-mail, but decided I'll paraphrase because it's maybe not OK to re-print what someone probably assumes is private correspondence:
Anyway, he likes me too, he's being cautious because I already dumped him once (not true by the way), he loves being with me, I should call him call when my phone is charged again.
So I did. And he didn't call me back, didn't call me back, didn't call me back. When he finally called me back? It was to tell me a *hilarious* story about the night before when his boss's daughter was totally hitting on him.
Awesome, thanks for that, I probably couldn't have gone on not knowing how absolutely desirable other women find him all the time. And then he hung up. No mention of the (now) awkward e-mails.
Jill has taken to calling him Captain Douchebag. I think it's starting to stick.
Logically I know that all of this is him practically screaming that he really isn't that into me. I should give it up and move it along. I'm working on it, I really am, but the problem is that he is so funny and cute and interesting and fun (not to mention pretty good in the sack) that I'm having as little trouble giving up the ghost. I need someone to come over to my house and shake the shit out of me.
This morning I was reading this post by Fish. It made me think about something I try never to think about because it absolutely infuriates me.
My parents got divorced when I was a little baby. Thank God. I've never understood how my mother, the most responsible, driven, ambitious, and uptight woman I know picked someone like Wes. Wes is such a fuck up that even I wouldn't fall for someone like him.
I haven't seen him in ten years, and I haven't talked to him in almost as long. When I was 15 I decided I just couldn't take it anymore. I stopped visiting on weekends, not that weekend visits were ever really frequent. He's a real flake.
I didn't talk to him again until I went to college. I thought I was old enough to be the bigger person. I couldn't understand how someone could have a kid they just didn't give a shit about. So one night I was in Ft. Collins to see a show with a couple of friends. We were early, and so we stopped by to say hi. We were there for about five minutes before he hit on my friend Tanya. I was mortified. That is the last time I saw him.
I decided then to write him off forever. I have never regretted that decision. I am blessed to have the absolute best parents ever.
I have heard from him three times in the past ten years. The first two times were remarkably similar. Both times he called to tell me he was getting married the next day and wanted to invite me to the wedding. How's that for forethought. I am assuming his wives-to-be said something like "didn't you once say you had a daughter, shouldn't we invite her?" I never met either one of them. This year he left me a message on Christmas "hello love, merry Christmas."
Prick.
There are only three things that bother me about this estrangement:
The first is that I might have some siblings floating around out there that I don't know about. That would be weird.
The second is his parents. Although I haven't heard from them since I was adopted in 1998, I still send them a Christmas card every year. This year it was returned to sender. I am afraid they died and nobody thought to tell me.
The third is this. He is the most irresponsible man I have ever met in my whole entire life. I am certain in ten or twenty years I will get a phone call asking for a kidney, or money for a nursing home, or god knows what. And I will say no. I won't think twice about that, but the guilt will haunt me forever.
I spent last night alone with my dog eating a pint of Häagen-Dazs and watching a chick flick. Blueberry Cheesecake Light Ice Cream (which by the way has as many calories as other brands' regular ice cream) is amazing. So is the pineapple coconut. So is the dulcedeleche. And this from the girl that doesn't even like ice cream. That much.
So I have a new favorite blog today.
Ridiculous Life Lessons From An ExpertI keep reading and thinking "At least I'm not the only person on the planet this ridiculous and awkward." I wish we could go out for cocktails and cringe about our awkwardness together.
Did I mention that this weekend during charades Mak had to act out awkward, and he pantomimed something I'd done once with The Boy, and almost everybody actually guessed the clue was awkward.
Anyway, I'll get around to writing about The Boy soon, but the humiliation is a little too fresh right now. Although maybe the sooner I laugh about it I'll be able to get over it.
Greek Chorus: Of all human weaknesses obsession is the most dangerous and the silliest.
Linda: You didn't want a blowjob so the least I could do is get you a tie.
Lenny: You didn't see Schindler's List? Kevin: No, no... that was the one with the Jews and the, um... who were the bad guys? Lenny: The Nazis. The blond guys were the Nazis. Kevin: They were tough motherfuckers.
Linda: Okay, so I had one guy fucking me from behind and two guys dressed as cops in my mouth and all I could think was, "I like acting. I wanna study."
I never told you guys what happened with The Bartender.
Turns out he nuts. Shocking, I picked a crazy dude. So I didn't got to the Christmas party, and then I ended up being at my parents house for 8 days instead of the 2 I planned on. He kept calling and calling and it got kind of out of control.
I wanted to give him a call and tell him I wasn't going to see him again, but I was really uncomfortable letting him go with my parents listening from the other room. I told him I'd give him a call when I got back to Golden. Then he went nuts a little.
He'd get drunk and call me like 8 times, leave a nasty message, then send a text message apologizing in the morning. Sound familiar? I've been down this road before. I'd already decided to distance myself from the crazy when this happened.
Jill got a call from an old boyfriend who was an acquaintance of The Bartender's. Turns out The Bartender had asked this guy for Jill's phone number, presumably to call her and grill her about me.
I don't know about you guys, but for me this is crossing a major line. If a chick did this, she would be labeled as Grade A Crazy for life. She'd be given some kind of humiliating nickname and brought up every time crazy girls were the topic of conversation for the end of time.
We had a great big group of people for a nice dinner in Basalt. We had loads of appetizers and cocktails were flowing, it was 10:30 by the time dinner was over so we scrapped plans to head into Aspen and threw an impromptu party at Mak and Kate's place. Once we got back it was sort of a choose-your own-adventure kind of evening.
There was a lot of coat-dancing in the living room.
It was kind of the Mak and Drea show for a while. Huh, Shocking.
And the world's cheesiest photo shoot in the kitchen.
I must have been channeling Britney because my altogether was on display all night. Control top pantyhose... not so hot.
I do eat up the drama, but this is about the clothes. OK, it's mostly about the clothes.
Click here to see a slide show of the designs. (via Bravotv.com)
Here is how I would have ranked the designs this week:
Design by Rami Modeled by Sam This is awesome. To hell with wearability, this was made out of candy wrappers. Totally cool, and beautiful at the same time.
Design by Ricky Modeled by Lisa I really like this design, and I found it very appropriate for the challenge. It's cheesy sure, but they didn't really have a lot to work with.
Design by Christian Modeled by Lea I thought this was beautiful and creative, and I can't believe he had to unwrap and glue all of those wrappers!
Design by Chris Modeled by Marcia I love how you can tell this is made of a Hershey "wrapper" but it still looks kind of abstract too.
Design by Victorya Modeled by Jacqueline I thought the judges were a little hard on Victorya this week. I think this is really cute, if a little weird in the bust area.
Design by Kit Modeled by Marie Give credit to Kit, this would have looked a lot worse if the styling had been any different, but as it is this is pretty cute, if a little obvious.
Design by Kevin Modeled by Amanda
Yawn! There is nothing wrong with this, it's just really boring.
Design by Jillian Modeled by Lauren I think the judges are nuts, and this is totally ugly.
Design by Sweet P Modeled by Katie Boring. And it looks like she put on her slip, but forgot her skirt.
Design by Elisa Modeled by Aviva Bad news, but you had to know she was Au'fed even before you saw this terrible dress when the producers trotted out her life story. But wow, this is bad.
Jill and I decided to take advantage of the long weekend and head up to Basalt for a few days.
On Sunday when everyone was skiing, Kate and I went into Aspen to window shop, watch the Bronco game and gawk at the crazy rich people.
Jill looks rosy cheeked after a day of hitting the slopes.
Worst. Picture. Of. Me. Ever.
You don't have to ski to enjoy a few Après-ski cocktails.
Or a lot of cocktails.
Oh, drunken MySpace stalking. Does it count as stalking if the person is in the next room?
Speak of the devil. I am sorry to say that this thing with The Boy looks like a non starter. I guess I thought something, anything, would happen this weekend, but it never did. I guess I just need to accept the reality that he really isn't that interested in me. Not a fun thing to admit to oneself actually. Too bad, because he sure is cute.
Kat and I probably took six pictures of what I think we're now calling our signature poses.
Mr. Whiskerson
Snuggle Buddies
Looking guilty because they got caught snuggling.
These troopers made dinner for the lot (16 people) while the rest of us drank beer and watched the CU game.
A few lovely ladies.
More lovely ladies.
Two girls one cup. We couldn't watch it again, but we could watch Noah watch it for the first time. And we could laugh.
Last year I only made one New Year's Resolution, it was to remember to eat dinner (or lunch?) before I started drinking. Not that I drink all that often, but when I do, I tend to lose my appetite, and then get a little too drunk.
I'd say for 2007 I batted about a .250. Not great considering I drank about ten times more than I ate this weekend. Oh well, there's always 2008.
But, I'm too tired to tell you about my long weekend in Basalt. Maybe tomorrow? I do have lots of great pictures, but my memories are a little fuzzy. Happy New Year, I hope you all had great holidays!
