Monday, April 30, 2007

Old Maid of Honor


There’s something bigger than your sister getting married.

It’s when your best friend gets a boyfriend.

Sure, a sister getting married makes your family bigger, but your best friend and roommate getting a boyfriend makes your daily life different.

You no longer have a “partner in crime.”
You can no longer pretend that you’ll live together forever because it’s so, “fun.”
You can’t pretend that you and your cats are one, big, happy family… because chances are, she’s now planning on a real family, kids rather than kittens.

So where does that leave you?

The worst-case scenario is that you end up alone and homeless once she embarks on her new life…

The best-case scenario is that you speedily find yourself someone special too, and you can go your separate ways into adulthood without any hard feelings.

(In a perfect world, you’d make enough money to actually afford a one-bedroom on your sole salary… but finding a SOUL-mate seems easier nowadays).


Saturday, April 28, 2007

What's my role? Should I console?


A case study showing why you never say anything bad about a person’s ex until you know for absolutely sure that it’s over:

Linda calls Shelly to tell her Bob has broke her heart. Sobbing, Linda recounts how Bob cheated on her throughout their year relationship, that he told her she was fat, and that he never did anything slightly decent, EVER.

Shelly consoles Linda by declaring the man was a scumbag, pig, loser, jerk, the lowest form of life, not worth the oxygen he takes in, that she never liked him, that Linda should have kicked him in his manhood and called it a day after the first date, that he looks like Steve Buscemi on crack only worse, that he always smelled like old cheese, that he scratched his butt a lot when he thought no one was looking... Linda stops dripping snot all over the phone, says thank you to her dear friend Shelly and hangs up.

For weeks Shelly hears nothing from Linda. She calls her and only gets her voicemail. She's puzzled and a little bit worried.

Then one day, she runs into Linda and Bob, holding hands at the mall. All the things Shelly said about Bob flash through her mind. Linda doesn’t even wave to Shelly, because she feels uncomfortable about being with Bob. Shelly doesn’t wave to Linda, because she feels uncomfortable about what she said. Weeks pass, and Linda and Shelly don’t talk, because both feel awkward about what is now “The Mall Incident.” Then months, then a year… Maybe Shelly will get a call from Linda one day, maybe not.

Has this happened to you?

Check back tomorrow for what Linda learned...

Friday, April 27, 2007

What Men Want!


According to an article by Micah Stipech, men's wants and needs can be reduced to 3 basic levels:

1. Biological
2. Significance
3. Meaning

Do you agree with these summaries?

1. What men want at the biological level:

* We want you to look like the girl in the magazine
* We want you to act like the James Bond girl
* We want more than one of you
* We don't want responsibility or commitment
* Of course, all this leads to the pinnacle of the biological level…sex.

2. What men want on the significance level:


* Prestige
* Approval from the guys
* Someone they can trust
* Someone who thinks they are superman

3. What men want on the meaning level:

* To give selflessly
* Someone to serve
* Someone who shares mutual purpose
* Someone to sacrifice for
* Shared creativity, intellect, spirit, ambition
* Maturity
* Someone who loves on the same level

Read the whole article here.

Where are all the guys on the "meaning" level eh?!?!

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Vote!!!



STOP! No More Right Hand Red!

“But game playing, like hypocrisy, is one of those things people only think they’re against. In reality, we all do it. And our success in love and romance largely depends on how well we do it,” –Dan Savage.

I only PARTIALLY agree with this statement.

I think that the games and the rules for dating seem to vary from person to person and that there is a large gap between being “coy” and being a “player.”

I prefer coy.

And my own experience has taught me that the rules have changed with each person who has courted me.

I was taking stock of the last year or so of my single-life and I realized that all those times I thought I was playing the “game” perfectly turned out entirely wrong.

And when I looked at the encounters that turned into meaningful relationships, I realized that was when the rules went out the window.

I don’t like games ← cliché I know.
But I am done playing them.

No more “playing hard to get.”
No more “playing that this is enough.”
No more “check-mate” unless he matters.

Because dating is like a game of Twister… sure the colors are nice and there’s “fun” to be had, but if the sport goes on too long everything gets convoluted.

And if everyone’s hands are tangled and stationary, who can spin the tell-all arrow and determine what comes next?
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What games do YOU play or HATE to play?

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

E-gads! Male strippers?!


Men are pigs, that's why they like strippers. It's that simple.

I, on the other hand, would rather lick chewed gum I found on pavement, than have a sweaty man rub his banana hammock on me.

I've heard women say this all the time -- We can see how the female body can be SEXY to a man. We don't see how the male.... (cough)... package is sexy in spandex, yellow underoos. Sisqo was NOT singing about males in the THONG SONG!


AND, have you seen the way most men dance? There's NOTHING less sexy than the Carlton dance.

Girls gone MILD


How my sisters bachelorette party makes me question modern women’s attempts at virtue.

Some years ago, ashamed of our lacking stories about boys, booze, and flashing, my friend and I coined the phrase "Girls Gone Mild." We decided we'd make our own videos, featuring the two of us doing our homework while wearing hoodies and celebrating our long, monogamous relationships to our boyfriends.

Recent news however has pointed out that modern women are saying no to the strip club for their bachelorette parties and are instead staying at home. Some have even admitted to licking whipped cream from bowls in search of cherries… for fun?

A piece that ran in the Poughkeepsie Journal last September indicated that women could say goodbye to the shirtless firefighters and instead have Sex and the City marathons, go to the spa, or go out to dinner for their bachelorette parties.

Uhh, but this is what single girls do all the time. We drink wine at home and whine. We know Carrie and Charlotte's love history as well as our own. We eat bowls of whipped cream, not for sport, but for its sweet satisfaction (and to curb loneliness;)

So as my older sister’s bachelorette party looms in the near future, I BEG OF YOU… for the LOVE OF EVERYTHING, celebrate your inner bachelorette the way it should be... with men in thongs and champagne.

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Save the movie marathons and the "girls only" sleepovers for when you get divorced.

Too old for Wet T contests? Maybe...


WHEN IS A PERSON TOO OLD FOR SPRING BREAK?

There it is again, that word OLD. I can't hide from it. It's everywhere. I think I saw it in my bowl of ABC cereal this morning!

The big 2-5, almost 2-6, is not necessarily OLD. But as my previous posts revealed, I am........ well let's just call it mature, for lack of a better word.

But there are times when I just want to be the wonderful age of 2-1 again! I think going on "Spring Break" to CANCUN is the result of my quarter-life crisis. I see my 30s creeping up... I see HOUSE DEBT, I see no ESCAPE from 14-hour work days, I see CHILDREN taking over my life. I don't see trips abroad to beaches with my girlfriend.

So what's wrong with one more college-style rendezvous? Well, not totally college-style. I didn't bring the beer funnel and I actually have money for food this time.


Gif credit -- ARG! Cartoon Animation Studio

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Don't drink the water


And don’t EVER go on vacation with your EX-BOYFRIEND because you bought the plane ticket 5 months before the break up.

Trust me, I did it.

After 3 years of puppy-love-bliss… I needed a change.

I wanted freedom.

And I’d spent 500 bucks on a plane ticket to Cancun.

A mere 5 weeks before the date of departure, our relationship ended and I was asked, “Are you still going on vacation with me?”

I said yes.

And so 2 “friends” who had known each other only has MORE THAN FRIENDS for 3 years spent 2 weeks alone together in Cancun.

We had a 2 bed room condo.
The view was amazing.
We had only each other’s company.

And we actually had a good time.

But awkwardness ensues when you’re sitting on the blue waters, overlooking the sunset and thinking, “Is this wrong?”

I sometimes wonder how different my life would be if I had let that sunset infiltrate and make my decisions less methodical.

I sometimes wonder how we made it through those 2 weeks of sunshine and fun without realizing we still loved one another.

I sometimes think I messed everything up for the sake of a “freedom” I now know all too well.

And then reality sets in.
And I realize, “that what’s meant to be, will be."
So I have to let this be…
Now he lives with my best friend.
They’ve been together for 4 years.
And they get to live happily ever after.

But at least I got to see Mexico.

THE COUNT DOWN... 48, 47, 46....


This is the official 48 hour count down till I'm on an airplane, till I'm on a beach, till I'm swimming in an ocean, till I start my vacation in CANCUN. Waaaaaahoooooooo!

I've never been. But I'm betting some of you have. So, tell me where I should go, where I should eat, where should I drink, where I should play...

And let me tell you this: I try to go away some place tropical once a year and it isn't expensive. I'm staying five days (Thurs-Monday) in Cancun, on the beach, in a rinky-dink hotel, but who cares. Total bill (air + hotel) $600. You can't complain about that. I would stay in a grass hut, if it meant being able to see palm trees.

Where do you go away on vacation?

Monday, April 23, 2007

Me, happy?


All I'm going to say is this.

I woke up happy today too.





Maybe it was the weather.

Waking Up Happy!


I went to bed Sunday with a smile on my face, and I woke up Monday in the same state. Why, you ask? Because this weekend was plain perfect.

Friday -- went to the mall, stumbled on a sale at Old Navy, got a call to meet my friends at a restaurant, sat on a porch as the sun set, drank beer in great company, ran into my fellow co-blogger Chrissie, who always makes me smile.

Saturday -- my roommate greeted me with a bacon egg and cheese (grease to cure my hangover) in the a.m., went to my boyfriend's house, did some yard work, discovered flowers underneath the leaves, threw a BBQ with all my friends including Mr. Nice Guy, couldn't stop laughing, went to bed.

Sunday -- Got up early, met my dad in New Paltz, went hiking, saw two waterfalls and a lake, laid out in the sun, got a tan, ate great seafood, went home and watched the Yankees then Sopranos then Entourage.

Monday -- Woke up to a kiss and my boyfriend telling me to have a great day.

Right now, my life is the perfect fit.

Tell me about why you wake up happy!!!

Saturday, April 21, 2007

The Key


My favorite pub was giving out locks to the ladies last night and keys to the gentlemen.

Finding your perfect fit seemed like a great conversation starter, rather than the usual, "So, do you come here often?"

But when hours passed and no one's key fit my lock the irony of it all weighed on my mood.

I tried a million keys.
I had certain individuals going to get new keys once theirs didn't fit my lock.
The man I refer to as "Peter Pan" (because he will NEVER grow up) said "If this key fits, I will marry you right now." (I KNEW THAT ONE WASN'T GOING TO WORK, I was in MAHONEY'S not NEVER NEVER LAND after all).

And so I simply left with my lock around my neck, and no fitting key in sight.

But at least I came to one conclusion...
I hate games like this.
OH HOW THEY MOCK ME.

Friday, April 20, 2007

What I love to detest






Slow drivers. MOVE out of the left lane, will ya!



Dirty men

Creepy men


Please who don’t keep their promises

Not being able to eat what I want, when I want
When I run out of time

People who wear their nonexistent assets on their clothes


Chances are, if you wear this crap, you aren't sexy!

People who don't know when to shut up


Being called OLD
I'm am so NOT old!!!! OK, maybe I'm a little old, but just a little.

Cynicism is BACK!!!

After putting everyone to sleep with our happiness and rainbows yesterday, I figured we could all use a little complaining.

So here are the things that I love...


TO HATE!!!

DATING:
It’s awkward, forced, and uncomfortable. I don’t like obligations, especially when it involves kissing Quiver Lips goodnight.

JOHN RITTER: (I know, it's not PC to say so since he's passed, but I'm being honest here).
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SUSHI: I think people PRETEND to like SUSHI because it makes them look “POSH.” I prefer my food hot thank you very much.
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THIS MOVIE: (I left the theater before it was over, and I only paid $1 to see it).


PEEPS: They’re gross.
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WEDDINGS: All that commitment and pressure and questioning?!?! NEVER!
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ROBBERIES: After my last car was broken into, and I was forced to drive around with a plastic window for a month, I've come to hate petty crimes with a passion.
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Did I miss anything?!?!?

Thursday, April 19, 2007

It might not be a pot of gold...


But even I can sometimes find a silver lining.

I LOVE
when my roommate leaves a spoon and a mug by the coffee pot for me. (You have no idea what it means to find a CLEAN spoon AND A MUG in our apartment;)

I LOVE how it smells outside when it’s just about to rain.

I LOVE freckles on my shoulders because it means that it is summer time.

I LOVE when my little sister calls me on the telephone and leaves cute voicemails.

I LOVE when I get to sleep in.

I LOVE wearing hoodies.

I LOVE
this episode of the family guy:






I LOVE this movie, (and this particular scene).




I LOVE that I was able to actually make a list of things I love, on a day when I want to pull my hair out.


Thanks for the picture of rainbow Sarah… I think it actually helped.

Optimism makes me want to PUKE... But here goes anyway!



In 1965, a nun turned nanny sang her way into the hearts of Americans, in “The Sound of Music.” Because this BLOG needed a rainbow or two, I devised my own list of “Favorite Things” minus kittens and snowflakes.

I love when:

There’s no traffic on the streets.
Unfortunately, that only happens on holidays that everyone else gets off but ME.

I forget it’s payday. Cha-Ching!

My friends call me instead of text messaging.


We reminisce about the old days.
You know you grew up in the 80s if you know what NKOTB stands for...


I’ve had a few drinks, the DJ plays great tunes and everyone I know is out.

My mini pin gets angry. See for yourself


The cockroach guy comes and doesn’t find any critters. Now that’s a good DAY.

I feel valued, empowered and cherished.

Chris mentions our future together (and doesn’t faint afterwards).

And this music video!

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

What women want. This is simple.


We want attention, but not too much attention so that we feel smothered.

We want compliments, but not too many compliments, so we think you are lying to us.

We want you to make an effort, but not too much of an effort, so that we know we have you hooked, and what’s more unappealing than that?

We want to be pampered – back rubs, massages, running your hands through our hair – but if you don’t do it right, your best bet is to send us to a spa.

We want sympathy, which means if we had a long day, we don’t want to hear you had a long day too. You should say, “Poor baby, what can I do for you?” and actually do it.

We want peace, which means if you are mad at us, get over it.

We want to shape you into our perfect man, so get used to it when we complain that you are messy, you are late, you need to shower, you need to shave, etc.

We want space, but not too much space, so that it feels like you don’t care.

We want you to care, which means it’s OK to get a teeny bit jealous, once in awhile. But leave the macho ego at home please.

We want to feel loved, so you best remind us in a way that is original.

We want good conversation, even when the Yankees are on TV.

We want to come first. That's right, first! Before "YOUR BOYS."

We want credit, for all the effort we put into the relationship. Repeat after me: "Thank You, honey."

We want to go out on DATES, even after the one year anniversary.

AND ONCE in awhile, we want you to bring home DINNER in a BOX, instead of making us cook for you…

I know, I know, we want a lot. But hopefully, we are worth it.

Riding shotgun: Why I think chivalry needs a comeback


Why does it seem like the only thing a single girl gets in the dating world is a few free drinks and a bounty of mixed signals?

Where are the days when doing NICE things wasn’t out of the ordinary… where sending flowers wasn’t “too much” after a second date???

I consider myself a 3rd wave feminist… I want my cake and I want to eat it too.

I want total respect and equal opportunity...
and I want you to hold the door open for me.

I want to be financially independent…
and I want you to pay the check when I’m in the restroom.

I want to drive a stick shift better than anyone…
and I want you to drive my car while I ride shotgun.

So how about a compromise?!?!

We need to blend the traditional with the modern.

There seems to have been an end of chivalry in the last decade… where women have become objects of desire or just one of the guys.

So you can keep the petticoats, chastity belts and girdles…
But we still want our knight in shining armor.



Photo from here.

Monday, April 16, 2007

Cooking for Two


I would much rather have to worry about myself only, than worry about myself and a man who insists on eating three balanced meals a day. It's a royal PAIN.

When I go grocery shopping I have to try to think, am I feeding Chris this week, because if I am I better have plenty of STEAK, beverages, snacks and Popsicles.
I once brought home salmon burgers and I swear, that was almost the end of our relationship. I once suggested we eat a bowl of cereal for dinner and he started to twitch.

My refrig contains usually two bottles of seltzer water, some sorts of veggies and condiments - - hardly appropriate for a man who eats two P&J sandwiches each morning before lunch. What do I offer him mid-day, ketchup packages? soy sauce?

I can't tell you how often I hear, "I'M HUNGRY," when Chris is at my apartment.

He calls me the "side dish queen" because I refuse to spend $10 per pound on meat. I'll just live off of mac and cheese, thank you!

Well, if anyone has any advice on dealing with "hangry" (so hungry you're angry) men, please advise!!!!

Eating for one


How one girl’s trip to the grocery store acts as a constant reminder that she’s single.

It’s impossible to shop for ONE.

At least, it’s impossible to shop for ONE and eat healthfully.

A head of lettuce doesn’t last long enough for me to finish it... unless I want salad for lunch AND dinner 3 days in a row.

By the time I remember that I’ve even BOUGHT lettuce, it’s progressed into this slimy, neon green, slop in my refrigerator rather than crisp, healthy food.

Most things come in twos…

2 pop-tarts
2 ring-dings

The toaster even reminds me that I’m single when I make ONE piece of toast in the morning.

So when you're trying to shop healthfully, and you want to skip out on that box of cookies and you reach for that bag of apples instead...

Forget about it, unless you want your apartment to smell like the worlds oldest orchard in a week’s time.

You've got to walk your lonely little self over to the shelf that has apples you can buy ONE AT A TIME.

And choose ONLY ONE.






Friday, April 13, 2007

Birthday Drinks + Cell Phone = BAD NEWS


After dancing the night away for my friend’s birthday, I awoke to a disaster.

Yes, a phone disaster.

I had apparently dialed one particular number TOO many times in the evening, and sent a few too many text messages.

Let’s hope that the 1 minute and 1 second conversation I had wasn’t too shameful.

Because your guess is as good as mine… and I’m too afraid to ask the ONLY person who knows the truth.

I think everyone should calm me down by sharing their own dialing disasters.

Come on... make me feel better.


Thursday, April 12, 2007

"I am Happy" Birthdays


Today is my roommate’s birthday… the big 2-4 !

And it’s got me thinking…

I remember being a young girl, and fantasizing about my “adult-life.” I had plans that I was sure would happen.

-I assumed that by 24, I would be married, (or at least engaged).
-My husband would be the real-life equivalent of the Ken Doll who actually had hair that wasn’t plastic.
-I would live in a house and have a fabulous job.
-I would be happy.

But what I’ve learned, as my 24 years come to a close and the big 2-5 approaches… is that NONE of this has come true.

Well, almost none of it...

One thing did happen.

I am happy.

I am happy, living in an apartment I can barely afford with my best friend of 12 years.
I am happy without Ken and his fabulous hair to keep me company.

I am happy with the life that turned out nothing like I’d planned…


But I have to wonder, do those 10-year-old-girl dreams come true for anyone???
(Or… 10-year-old-boy dreams ;)?

"Ride in a spaceship" birthday wishes


I think we can all relate to getting at least one gift that makes us think (silently, of course): "What the... ! Hmph... How can I re-gift this?"
I've learned one solution to the gift-giving dilemma is to ask the person: "Is there anything you NEED that you don't have?"

Recently, I asked my best friend what she wanted for her 26th birthday and was delighted by her response, despite the fact that I am not any closer to getting her something I know she'd love. This is what she e-mailed me:

"I have NO CLUE what I want for my birthday.......

True, equal love? A big bathtub? A doggie? An island house in the Caribbean?
A winning lotto ticket? Six months of winter and six months of summer? Or maybe weekdays in winter, and weekends be summer?

To color in coloring books for a living? A supermodel's wardrobe? A supermodel's legs? To be able to go away for a week every month to some place new? To take a ride in a space ship? To be able to do every type of dance, and do it well? (I really mean the polka.)

To be able to only eat ice cream and gain muscle from it? To own a transport machine? To be able to fly? To go on safari? To have the complete third season of Lost on DVD right now? To be stranded on the island in Lost? To be able to change the rate at which my hair grows?

To be naturally tan all year round? To be able to see my parents at the drop of a dime?

........................ Or maybe just a card."

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

UP"DATE" #3 ZTBG

For those that are wondering if ZTBG followed my rules of dating for our 3rd get-together, here's the wrap-up:

1. If you take the time to get a girl’s number, CALL HER. (And if you get the voicemail of "Joe Schmoe's Accounting" you'll know she's not interested).

ZTBG- He called :)

2. Don’t drive a pick-up truck… they will forever remind me (and maybe other women) of farmers and fathers… two very UN-SEXY things.

ZTBG- He drives an SUV <----- MUCH better than the pick-up!


3. Take her out to a NICE place and come up with it
all on your own. (There is nothing more frustrating than the “so what do you want to do” question ALL the time).

ZTBG- I didn't have to utter a word about where we were going to dinner, (sure, I was an hour away from home and had no idea what was around, but he took the initiative and picked a place!) AND, ZTBG earns 1,000 extra points for not only paying for dinner, but nonchalantly making it seem as if the check never came... preventing the awkward discussion of tip and tax. (I don't mind paying my way, but I DID drive an hour;)

4. If you’ve once dated her best friend, don’t EVEN TRY to approach her. That might be okay for guys to do, but it freaks most women OUT.

As far as I can tell, ZTBG is NOT interested in my best friend... (although, his best friend is interested in her, so this could all work out very nicely:)

5. Remove the words
“GUILT TRIP” from your vocabulary and force yourself never to do this to someone.

ZTBG
- I did not feel guilty... not even once.


6. Shower and shave… regularly.

ZTBG- Clean as a whistle.

7. It always helps if you smell nice… a mediocre guy can turn into a GREAT guy with the help of a little AXE.

ZTBG- YUMMY! Not only did he smell terrific, but I noticed a few newly purchased Glade-Plug-Ins as well:)


8. Find the key balance between available and NOT AVAILABLE. If you have no friends or plans 7 days a week… I have to wonder why I’m the ONLY ONE who wants to hang out with you.

ZTBG- Considering we ran into a handful of people he knew... I don't see this one as being a problem.

9. REMEMBER!!! 3 p.m. phone calls mean a lot more than 3 a.m. text messages full of typos.

ZTBG- Let's just say I got a phonecall "just to make sure I'd found my way back to the thruway." That's the EXACT opposite of the 3 a.m. text message:)

10. Make your intentions CLEAR. Chances are, most girls will be okay with what you have to offer, but DON’T FORGET ABOUT THE CUDDLE HORMONE!!!

ZTBG- I guess we'll just have to wait and see with this one.

The rules have officially been followed ladies... well... so far;)

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Try something new... What wearing glasses can do



Nearly everyone who meets my roommate and I assumes she’s the “good girl.”

She’s quieter than I am.
She’s nicer than I am.
And she wears glasses.

Yes, it’s this LAST part that I think causes the frequent misconception (she’d be the first to admit their assumptions are usually wrong… trust me:).

In order to test this theory, I ventured out in the world wearing glasses... to see the world through 4 eyes instead of 2.

Overall, glasses seem to be an invitation for the crazy and old to approach. I’ve never had so many men older than my father hit on me before… and I’ve never been so easily ignored by the guys my own age.


What IS the allure of glasses on girls?

Monday, April 9, 2007

Monday’s Rules of Dating

1. If you take the time to get a girl’s number, CALL HER. (And if you get the voicemail of "Joe Schmoe's Accounting" you'll know she's not interested).

2. Don’t drive a pick-up truck… they will forever remind me (and maybe other women) of farmers and fathers… two very UN-SEXY things.

3. Take her out to a NICE place and come up with it all on your own. (There is nothing more frustrating than the “so what do you want to do” question ALL the time).

4. If you’ve once dated her best friend, don’t EVEN TRY to approach her. That might be okay for guys to do, but it freaks most women OUT.

5. Remove the words “GUILT TRIP” from your vocabulary and FORCE yourself to FORGET how to do this to someone.

6. Shower and shave… regularly.

7. It always helps if you smell nice… a mediocre guy can turn into a GREAT guy with the help of a little AXE.

8. Find the key balance between available and NOT AVAILABLE. If you have no friends or plans 7 days a week… I have to wonder why I’m the ONLY ONE who wants to hang out with you.

9. REMEMBER!!! 3 p.m. phone calls mean a lot more than 3 a.m. text messages full of typos.

10. Make your intentions CLEAR. Chances are, most girls will be okay with what you have to offer, but DON’T FORGET ABOUT THE CUDDLE HORMONE!!!


Just remember, you’ll never get to learn Sarah’s rules for marriage if you don’t follow the dating rules first!

(Cartoon from Here).

Are you reading to get mmm mmm mmm married? Well, for all the men out there wondering this, one of my favorite authors, Laurie Notaro breaks down marriage in her book “Autobiography of a Fat Bride”. Here are some of the highlights:

“At night, if she takes the covers, just get used to being cold. It’s more important for her to be warm.”

“And instead of falling asleep to music it will be white noise. Women need that.”

“If she buys a bar of soap that isn’t white, it is not for you.”

“And when you feel the need to go to the bathroom, you should ask her if she needs to go first… But you should really try to make it a point to do the big things someplace else before you get home.

“Her sexual obligation to you expires in two years. And should she decide to oblige you after that, you should be very, very grateful.”
“And you are never allowed to say ‘boink,’ ‘pork,’ ‘do it,’ or ‘get it on.’
Or wake her up in the middle of the night when you’re overwhelmed by your man desire.”

“Happy hour will be a thing of the past. There’s something you do instead now. Its called dinner at home.”

Here's a few I added:

If she does anything embarrassing in her sleep, say she ate a burrito or broccoli at dinnertime, and a certain noise wakes you up, you will never ever speak of what happened.

No matter how sick of it you are, you must always tell her that, No, those pants don’t give her a muffin top.

At least once a month, you are obligated to come up with a date‚ without you saying, What do you want to do tonight?

If the roar coming from your nostrils is keeping her up, you must vacate the bedroom immediately.

You have to promise not to kill her dog that you hate even if it eats your autographed, one-of-a-kind Derek Jeter jersey. PROMISE.

Do you have any rules you'd like to share?

Saturday, April 7, 2007

Sandman Saturdays


I had this scary dream last night... HELP ME INTERPRET!!!

So, I was standing in the sand... looking out at the ocean.

It was pretty at first, but then I looked over my shoulder (where the shore should have been), and I realized that there was no shore... and approaching from behind me was a huge wave. I went under and when I finally resurfaced, I realized that I was in the middle of the sea... floating and treading water but there was NO LAND in sight.

A big black pick-up truck floated by and then it got "scary." Nothing really happened, but that dream-feeling entered me and I wanted desperately to wake up. I opened my eyes... still sleeping and saw a really tall guy standing in my room, he said "Can you hear me?"

I eventually forced myself awake and the tall guy disappeared (figures;).

But WHAT'S IT MEAN?

Friday, April 6, 2007

UP"DATE": Zito-the-bar-guy

Roommate tested, Chrissie approved!

The GOOD signs from
ZTBG (Zito-the-bar-guy):

1. He's still cute when I'm sober.
2. He has a job (well, sort of).
3. He brought candy.
4. He had an excuse prepared as to why he hadn't shaved.
5. He said, "Next time, you're coming down to see me." <-- He lives kinda far away.

The BAD signs from
ZTBG:

1. He asked if the "hot girls who lived downstairs wanted to hang out with us." (My response, "No, but the hot guys next store on their way over!)
2. A personal joke between he and his friend involved the phrase, "No cuddling."
3. He asked if we had any friends for his other friend ETBG, implying that my roommate and I run some sort of an escort service.
4. He mentioned that he's usually a chubby chaser, and the he was surprised that, "He could get hot chicks too!"
5. He's allergic to my cat.

Overall, I give ZBTG 2 thumbs up. One AND Two! Sure, there IS an equal number of pros and cons... but did I mention that he's not married... (wait... I guess I never asked him if he was...).




What's your verdict?

Macho Mania

When my mom took her teeny baby home, wrapped in a pink blanket, with a bow in her fuzzy hair, I bet she never thought that in 25 years, that girl would applause as men throw down their gloves and beat the living pooh out of each other.

But I can't help it. I LOVE HOCKEY!

This weekend, check out an Albany River Rats game. They play at home at the Times Union Center (formerly the Pepsi Arena) Saturday at 7 p.m. For under $20, you can get amazing seats. Maybe even get a little blood on you!

Can't wait!

Ladies... MEET MR. NICE GUY!

DSC01361

Last night I went to Mahoney's and it HIT ME like a bat to a knee cap. I KNOW NICE GUYS, SINGLE NICE GUYS, WHO HANG OUT AT BARS, like the one in this photo. (I'm dead after he sees this!)

Point is, THEY ARE THERE. YOU JUST NEED TO KNOW WHAT TO LOOK FOR. Happy hunting!

Thursday, April 5, 2007

At least if you're single...

You can avoid "relationship situations"... like this...

***VIDEO REMOVED SORRY***
Another reason why being in a relationship is MUCH MUCH MUCH better than being single...

The Pros and Cons of living with your boyfriend:

PRO: You NEVER have to sleep alone!
CON: If you are sleeping alone, there are 2 possible reasons... 1. He never CAME home, or 2. He's on the couch and you hate him.

PRO: You have REAL dinner almost every night!
CON: You can't eat ice cream from a serving bowl and expect him to approve. He needs, "meat and potatoes."

PRO: You wake up next to someone who loves you.
CON: You wake up next to someone who loves you... someone who farts, tosses and turns, and has horrible morning breath.

PRO: You aren't modest because now he's seen you at your worst.
CON: He no longer finds you as attractive as he once did, BECAUSE he's seen you plucking your stray hairs or flossing your teeth.

PRO: Rent is cheaper.
CON: You're relying on a man to help you out financially, good luck living that one down.

PRO: You don't have to wear make-up all the time because now he knows what you REALLY look like.
CON: He now knows what YOU really look like, and finds himself LOOKING at other women when you're out... you know, the ones WEARING MAKE-UP.

PRO: You don't have to come home to an empty apartment ever again.
CON: After that LONG day at work, when you just want to come home to an EMPTY apartment and veg-out with a glass (err, bottle) of wine and be left alone... your "roommate" has his friends over to watch the game (or in my case, it was to make computerized music that sounded like Mario and Luigi's top ten).

So before you get that extra key made, think about it.

Smelly socks and afternoon delight are one thing...
But trust me, your relationship... will NEVER BE THE SAME.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

“HONEY I’M HOME”


I’ve moved in with my boyfriend. Well… just for the week. Just until the roaches beat it… so I don’t claw my skin off in the nighttime.

Unfortunately, that means playing Susie Homemaker, something I said I’d NEVER do
again, NOT without a sparkling ROCK to go along with the responsibilities. That’s right, do again, as in I tried living with a boyfriend before, and let’s just say I LEARNED A LESSON. It sucks!

Flashback to 2004. I find out the person I love, the person I live with has been lying to me, has been looking me dead in the eyes and lying. (If I said what about, he’d be fired, so I won’t go there, but it was a big deal, a VERY BIG deal.) I look at him and see devil horns. I go near him and my stomach starts to dry heave.

So, I kick him out… or he agrees to leave (depends on who you ask, I guess). Reality sets in. HOW AM I GONNA AFFORD $930 a month rent on a $300 a week salary? Panic sets in. “Maaaaaaaaaa?” I say over the phone. “Pleeeeeeease heeeeeelp…”

Why, why, why, why, why would ANYONE want to be put in this situation?

I must admit, I anticipate “living” with Chris to be a satisfying experience – mainly because he’s not a phony manipulative nincompoop like the last guy was. But that still doesn’t mean I’m ready to step into my housewife costume when I get home from work. It’s going to take a tiny miracle to get me to give up my S P A C E.

Moving in with the man wasn’t a total wash. Being forced to be on my own taught me how phenomenal it is! Yeah, I was completely broke, but I also came home from work, ate a bowl of ice cream for dinner, put on a disgusting but otherwise immensely comfy pair of sweats and watched back-to-back episodes of Nick and Jessica on MTV.


So, in keeping with the tradition of this BLOG, my TUESDAY “TRY SOMETHING NEW” post is about trying to live on your own, if you haven’t discovered how SWEET it is!

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

UPDATE: You CAN find MEN in bars who READ BLOGS


I actually met a guy, at a bar, on Saturday night.

And he called me Monday evening!
***1 point for Bar-Guy who actually called***

What he said:

“So it’s really cool that you met ME at a bar this weekend and first thing Monday morning you post a blog saying that all guys at bars are jerks…”

Ooops.

The adventures of not-so-smooth Nancy Drew


I shoulda known that there would be consequences when I decided to snoop. Maybe I did. But it didn't stop me from checking out my neighbors' newly vacant apartment.

I shoulda known better.

I say that now, at 1 a.m., as I sit with a bag of ice on my freshly seared skin, nauseous from pain.

The doorknob turned and that is all I needed to proceed in the apartment. The light switch did nothing, as expected, but my roommate came prepared, with a minute flashlight that did the job -- sortof.
We remarked that it smelled funny. But of course it did. It had smelled funny since the day we moved in, and that's what prompted us to want to know how "the other side lived." My guess is they had buried their dead fluffy dog somewhere under dirty laundry and he was decaying. But the coast was clear. Just an empty living room. So far.

Into the kitchen. As my roommate marveled at the wall-to-wall hard wood flooring that was lacking in our place, just feet away, I opened the refrig. Mistake. The light from the ice box lit up the floor around my feet, and for the few seconds that I stood there, I saw what I most feared. COCKROACHES. At least a dozen, scurrying little critters. I yelped and then BOLTED, with my roommate on my heels.

Safe in my place, I rushed to get the RAID can and sprayed the rim of the door, hoping to create a barrier of steel against the roaches that I feared were now looking for a new abode, one with tenants who cooked, and left crumbs, since their former friends fled.

But alas, it wasn't enough. Just seconds after scorching my skin off with a spilled cup of bubbling water (tea to calm my heebie-jeebies), I heard my roommate SHRIEK. What is it? I asked. You don't want to know, she said. WHAT! I demanded. A bug, she said.

It had escaped through the fog of poison, crawled under the door, and was hiding under my futon. We attacked, covering all EXITS. It's now dead in a plastic bag. Evidence A for tomorrow, when I approach my landlady and say "Nah, nah, na! I was right!"

I started noticing bugs a couple of months ago. Here and there, I'd catch a glimpse of their long antennae, or their wings and I’d want to throw up. The landlady would call a bug man in and he’d say I was nuts. But I knew the whole time, the roaches were having a ball with the Don't-own-a-car, Never-go-to-work, Do-laundry-once-a-year, had-a-dog-but-he-disappeared, strange-smelling neighbors.

Did they go in Ghostbuster style and Zap those critters? Nope. Should they have? YUP. If I hadn't decided to be Nancy Drew might I still have silky legs? YUP. What did I learn? Besides not moving next to people who name their critters and treat them like family? Don't snoop! You don't want to know!

Monday, April 2, 2007

Music, Beer, Vomit... and a Boyfriend?


Can you meet a potential boyfriend at place where excessive drinking is the norm? Where one's self-consciousness is washed away with so-co and lime? Where showing off your sexy dance moves on top of furniture always leads to injury? Where Mr. Salt and Pepper hair loses track of his age?

The answer is yes.

After my millionth trip to Mahoney's two summers ago, I met my boyfriend Chris. He was out celebrating a friend's birthday. I was out celebrating, ummm... the fact that I could be out celebrating. He approached me. He wasn't a smooth talker, he didn't try any cheesy pick up lines. In fact, he seem frightened to death to be in my presence. That's when I thought to myself, maybe this guy is different, maybe he's a "nice guy." Maybe.

Well, I think for once in my life, my initial impression of a guy was dead on accurate. Chris has shown no signs of the "typical" bar guy. Cockinessism, alcoholism, narcissism, forgetfulism, jerkism, cheaterism -- you known all those LOSERISM...

So yeah, I do believe that when you weed out the duds, there are one or two "nice" guys at the bar, but you gotta know what to look for.

But Ladies, lets admit it now. We pick the cutest guy out, the one surrounded by his entourage, the one who checks out every girl that walks by, the one who gets your attention with a catcall, the one who tries to get you to go home with him that night... And then he turns out to... well suck. Hmmmm... I wonder why that is...

“You can’t meet a nice guy in a bar.”


Everyone says it… and they are probably right.

I mean, I’ve never met a nice guy in a bar.

Although, I may have never met a “nice guy” anywhere.


My friends and I have actually taken to saying the words “nice” and “guy” together ONLY if our hands are free to make those little quote symbols with our fingers.

But my argument is this…

I’m a decent human being, and I go out.

I’ve met plenty of nice girls in bars.

Most people I know, who seem to be valid, interesting, and pleasant human beings, sometimes go to out on the weekends and have a few drinks.

But what is it that makes the combination of MAN + BAR = JERK ???



And if this ISN'T true, then post your own experiences that prove me wrong.