Secret Sunday

Christmas Edition

It’s been quite some time since I’ve made a Christmas Wish List. Normally the only people I trade gifts with are my mom and a few friends, and it’s always things on the smaller side; music, movies, books, etc., so I haven’t put a whole lot of thought into what I would ask if I could ask for anything. Well, here it is. This is my ultimate dream Christmas Wish List.

1. One Million Dollars

tumblr_m7f16wuxtE1qje4xjo1_500What’s that you say? No one has an extra million laying around to give me? Well crap. On to the next item..

2. Diamond Earrings

I’m not super girly. I don’t accessorize regularly but damn if I don’t want some shiny 2 carat diamond solitaire studs!
pZALE1-8359967t4003. Two weeks all expenses paid vacation at the Four Seasons Resort in Bora Bora

item3.rendition.slideshowWideHorizontal.four-seasons-bora-bora-private-pools Enough said.

4. One full year without stress

I know, this is a weird thing to ask for. How does one make you stress-free? Provide me maids? Money so I don’t have to work? Personal chefs? Personal trainers? Massage therapists on call 24/7?! I’m not sure how this stress-free lifestyle happens, all I know is I would like to spend some time feeling less like this:cathy-comic-stripAnd what I would like more than anything…

5. For the world to become one big dance party

I can’t lie, when I get stressed, I like to dance. Usually it’s me in my bedroom dancing to embarrassing pop music, but regardless, there are times when I just need to dance it out. And how much better would dancing it out be if EVERYONE were dancing it out at all times?!? I have dreams of this! This magical world where people just dance for no damn reason! And it looks a little like this…0WhatUpWithThat_51tumblr_lgp6q5NhE21qcjtu8o1_5001zl92fn23ma42w.jpg280sw00788330075yu908131207_oflash1pr2qyial3.jpgsbtb4sunny2asvtumblr_md6naiEPCk1qgs4sno2_250tumblr_lgbira8pXh1qf8yektumblr_lh3l2z1S8s1qaiufdtumblr_lk54oh7tTt1qeot64tumblr_ll98ofcFwG1qe77yro1_500tumblr_llatbbCeky1qbnthutumblr_m122ufjo5a1qf7kk0o1_400tumblr_md6pzyTsdw1rtcgqyo1_500tumblr_me7kamtGKO1qgs4sno3_250tumblr_mf4r8xEAIv1rv65n0o3_250Happy Holidays, dear readers! Here’s to all your wish list dreams coming true…

A Clusterfuck of Crazy

You know those weeks where everything’s just off and you realize you’ve gained about six pounds and it’s all in your tummy and it’s totally obvious because all your shirts give you the fat-girl-in-a-little-coat feeling but that doesn’t stop you from stress eating a BLT because everyone at work is looking at you kinda funny because you turned down a new position but none of them know it’s because of your early onset mid-life crisis and then you stress eat French fries because people make it so damn complicated to get into graduate programs thus furthering your early onset mid-life crisis and those French fries end up helping your waistline almost as much as they help your skin, which you know is an old wives’ tale but nonetheless weird skin isn’t exactly easing your stress level for the week, especially when you are in the midst of a social life more active than your planner has ever seen and there’s nothing that makes an already painful activity like dating even more painful than bad skin, oh expect staticky hair, which you now have because you stupidly dyed it again, even though you knew it would leave your hair a staticky, split end mess but you still couldn’t stop yourself because the color on the box just looked so much better than the color currently on your head and this is kind of leading you to believe that you have a “grass is always greener” problem and then wondering if you only want things you can’t have, like boys in California and new lives in new cities when there’s a possibility that the life you have here and the boy you were out with last night are perfectly fine and there’s no need to go makin’ changes because then your life might turn into one big staticky mess? Yeah. That’s been my week. My brain has been a clusterfuck of activity, my thoughts scattered in a million different directions. The only thing calming this craziness?

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So happy Friday, fellow crazies!

Plans

There is a reason clichés exist. Because they are true. One that I hear more than any other is, “You make plans and God laughs.” Sure, maybe it’s not God, I mean, who knows who it really is out there, but someone, somewhere is out there just laughing up a big old storm because of all us little people and all our little plans.

A week ago I thought I had a plan. I’ve been meditating and soul-searching and shaking my Magic 8 ball just trying to figure out what I want to do with the next chapter of my life (“next chapter” – my polite way of saying ‘I’m going to be 30 soon, better fucking do something with my life.’) and finally, FINALLY, I thought I had the beginnings of a plan. I had the next five months all worked out, culminating into that next chapter. That next big thing.  And I guess that’s when whoever is out there decided they needed a good laugh and decided to throw a giant cloud of uncertainty onto my sureness. The day after, literally the day after, I came to a pretty solid conclusion on what was what, I was presented with a brand spanking new option, one that could be very financially rewarding and provide a lot of stability to my future. In other ways it’s not as greatly rewarding, but still, it’s yet another option and it’s throwing a big ol’ wrench into my plans. Nards!

Now please do not take this post as a complaint. Suddenly I have a new option, on top of all the others I already had, and in no way am I complaining about having choices to make. These choices, albeit difficult to make right now, are a blessing. Being able to scheme and plot and plan a new adventure for myself is a blessing.

That being said…

Please, whoever you are out there laughing at my plans, please stop. Please leave me be and let me map out this “next chapter” plan without any more forks in the road getting me lost along the way.

World Wide Web of Dating

So far my online dating life is a lot like I expected it to be, spending way too much time sifting through poorly written emails and mentally giving the authors of them one of these:

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And it’s not even just the poor spelling. It’s the men who are in their mid-40’s winking and messaging and liking my photos. Sorry buddy, I may have a mild amount of daddy issues, but, as my age range clearly states, I cut off the potential mates at 34. It’s also the guys sending me one line emails, usually something along the lines of, ‘Hey, how’s your day?’ or ‘You seem nice.’ Well, thanks for the note, buddy, but is that one line really supposed to reel the ladies in? If you’re going to make your message brief, at least make it a one line zinger that will make me laugh, not bore me to tears even if heard in person. Then there are the guys who don’t make any contact at all, just view my profile a couple times a day and as me as a favorite (a favorite what??) and give me the general creeper vibe. Oh, and let’s not get me started on the guy who at first sent a normal sounding email, then proceeded to send one five hours later asking for a chance to show how nice he was…and then again eight hours saying he’d be so upset if I wouldn’t just meet him for one coffee. Or the guy who actually really piqued my interest in the first email, the responded to my reply completely drunk (I could just smell the booze coming out of the email – it was that bad). Again, the creeper vibe comin’ on strongly.

I know what you must be thinking, ‘Whoa there, Judge Judy!’ But you know what? Judging is exactly what I need to be doing. I paid 60 damn dollars to be on this website specifically so I could weed out the weirdos and possibly find a decent date or two.

If I can’t find a mate in the online world, you better be damn sure I’m going to amuse myself by getting my judge on.

Don’t let the judginess fool you though. I may be scrutinizing these potential suitors with a harsh eye, but that doesn’t mean I’ve already completely given up hope on the whole process. Despite the older gents and the boring fellows and the lurker lads I am cautiously optimistic. Maybe not that I will find Mr. Right, but that I will at least find a fun person to grab dinner with and cajole into partaking in my random movie selections.

So far, I’ve gone on one date and have three more lined up for the next week or so. The first date? Not so hot. The setting was good, trivia at a bar downtown so that at least if we had nothing to talk about he could be wowed by my plethora of random knowledge. The company was good-ish, he was nice and laughed when I made jokes and purchased my glasses of wine at the end of the evening. But the spark? The spark was not good. It was non-existent. (Also, side bar: he most definitely lied about his height on his profile. While I do like a taller man, I have nothing against shorter ones. What I do have something against is fibbing about something as trivial as height. If that’s lie-worthy, what other facts are you stretching?)

The good part about the first date finally happening is that I now at least know I’m not as bad at this as I thought I was. Yes, I still dislike dating, but at least I’m not horrible at it. I make fantastic witty banter and have learned to carry conversations when they aren’t flowing easily. And, I’ve become MUCH more comfortable with myself, this seems to be key in my new found (mediocre) dating skills.

At least only one of these statements is true now.
At least only one of these statements is true now.

Potential suitors 2, 3, and 4 haven’t exactly given me the zsa-zsa-zsu’s yet, but I reckon that’s hard to get from any person online. All three have interested me in different ways, so I’m at least willing to see how it all plays out. Even if no matches come from all of this, at the very least I can now consider myself an anthropologist of sorts. A judge-y anthropologist scrutinizing the world wide web of dating masses one profile at a time.