Musings of a mad spinster

Love and Football

2011-09-26T20:16:00.001-07:00

I thought I was a cool girl. I thought I was the girl that could hang out with all the guys. I mean, I weld, I use power tools, I build stuff, I drink Boone's Farm straight from the bottle and I like football. Like being the operative word.
People who like football watch one or two games a week. The drink a beer, they eat pizza, they root for the home team and all that.
But, people who love football, well that's another story all together.

I love my boyfriend. Yes, we fight and sometimes I wish the earth would temporarily swallow him up, but at the end of the day - or week, as it may be - I still want to be his girlfriend. However, never ever ever did I ever predict what it would be like to live with someone who loves football.

I haven't held a remote in my hand in 48 hours. And it's not because I haven't wanted to watch TV, it's because the TV is totally and completely devoted to the love of football. And it's just too much trouble to try and get a show in edgewise.

Having Direct TV also doesn't help. I mean, how many games can possibly be played on one day?!!! More than I can count, it turns out. Thank Sweet Jebus for Netflix. This relationship would be over without it.

And so, to sum up, it turns out, I'm not a very cool girl. My like of football has now been turned into hatred because I've been forced to live with so much of it over the past two years. Yes, I can weld and use power tools, but all I want to watch now are romantic comedies and crime shows. I don't want to watch a football game. Not in a boat, not with a goat, and definitely not four days out of the week.

What'cha do?!

2011-09-23T13:24:00.000-07:00

"Miss Queen, whatcha be doin' when you leave here?"
That's what one of my 5-year old students asked me today. I said, "Lots of things! Sometimes I go home, sometimes I go teach a yoga class."
"Yoga?! I can't even do yoga no more!"
I suspect he has no idea what yoga is.

Ridicuous things I've said today:
"Where do I want your bottom?!"
"Your artwork is NOT a toy!"
"Stop spitting into the crayon cup, please."

I Can't Cuss at Work

2011-09-21T07:57:00.000-07:00

I want to cuss a blue streak! Just let loose and let the F-bombs and b!tch%s fly all over the place! But, I can't because I teach elementary children and it might actually get me fired. Who knows?! I've never tried it, nor seen anyone do it, so I don't really want to test it out.
But, man! am I going to fantasize about it.
I would like to go up to some of the heifers I work with and tell them what I really think about their work eithic, their inability to get along OR be helpful, and their crusty feet.
I would tell them once and for all how I really feel, then make a dramatic exit. And possibly take a few days off. That's my fantasy. And during my few days off, I would do all I could to let my muscles atrophy and watch as much Netflix as possible. Mmmmmmm...wonderful.
In other news, my students are being really good right now, although I see a couple staring off into space. I can't blame them, though. It's what I wish I could be doing right now.

Wit's End

2008-09-25T06:36:00.000-07:00

If one more child asks me if I'm pregnant, I'm going to quit the teaching profession all together! I know I've gained a little weight, I know I'm not in the best shape, but seriously! I don't even look kind of pregnant! I'm just fat.

And, it's not like most of my students don't have fat mothers! I see them everyday picking up their children. . .

Yesterday, one little girl just skipped the whole pregnant question and asked: "Miss Queen, why are you so fat?"

I'm, like, 15 pounds overweight. AND. . .we don't live in L.A. I'm still in the thin category amongst employees at this school, so why is everybody picking on me?!!!

Maybe it's a sign. A sign that children hate me and want me to develop an eating disorder. But the joke's on them, because I already tried to develop an eating disorder and it didn't work! HA!

*sigh*

Maybe I should just give in and get myself knocked up.

Just Remember, I Still Haven't Been Classified as Clinically Insane . . .

2008-09-23T18:23:00.000-07:00

I know it's trendy to be a little OCD and everybody says that they are and we all go around pretending that we all have some sort of mental affliction when all most of us really want is attention.

I am not technically diagnosed with the OCD, although I do have some tendencies. However, I am a hypochondriac and nobody who knows me (even a little) will dispute that.

So, yesterday, I kept feeling like I had something in my throat. I coughed and coughed hoping to get it out. When I got home, I looked at my tonsils in the mirror and saw something white perched happily on my left tonsil. I remember BFF (a registered nurse, by the way) said that sometimes, after you've had a cold or a sinus infection these little white clumps can form on your tonsils and if they don't go away in a couple of days, your breath might really start to stink. She also told me that you can actually just pick them off with, like, a q-tip or something.

Remembering these words as I looked at the white object on my tonsil, I embarked on a journey that was both terrifying and successful. For 45 minutes, I poked , prodded, tweezed, gagged, and coughed. I was determined to get this thing off of my tonsil!! Finally, I just stuck my finger back there and felt around until I dislodged it. . .and then swallowed it.

Now, I know what you're all thinking!!! That this is easily one of the most disgusting and disturbing stories you've ever heard me tell! And you're right. It is disgusting. But just imagine what it would be like to be my finger. . .and be thankful that you're not. I know that I am.

And if you're really wondering, it would have done no harm to just have left it alone. Allegedly, they go away on their own. But see, that's my point! I couldn't leave it alone.

So, the next time you drive back home from work just to make sure that you turned the oven off, or check your locks 10 times before you go to bed, just remember: at least you're not crazy enough to explore your tonsils with your finger, a q-tip, and a pair of tweezers.

And then, feel sorry for me.

Absolutely Unstable

2008-09-16T18:33:00.000-07:00

I have problems. This is not new news. When I'm busy and I don't have time to bother with my instability, everything just hums along! However, when I'm not busy and I'm feeling sorry for myself, AND my Man Out of Jail (MOOJ) might have said some slightly insensitive things, a trifecta occurs...or maybe more like a perfect storm...

Let's take this weekend for instance: MOOJ was back home from his traveling job, and although we had seen each other just the weekend before, I expected that he would want to spend time with me. Hardly. He wanted to spend time with his "boys" since he hadn't seen them in two weeks. Fine. Whatev. I'll find my own stuff to do that will be BETTER and COOLER!

Well, Saturday night, I came down with a nasty head cold. That's when the real problem began.

You see, when I get sick, as happens at least 3 times a year, I throw a big fat pity party for myself. I think about how alone I am and how I always have to take care of myself and what crappy friends I have because they're not psychic and they can't telepathically discover that I'd like a cup of tea and a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup.

Now, add a touch of testosterone-filled boyfriend hanging out with his "boys" and sit back and watch the fireworks commence!

Oh, it was bad. . .and histrionic. I was in rare form. I was angry, I was sad, I was vengeful, I actually contemplated calling an ex-boyfriend (that I hate) just to try and make MOOJ jealous!! Euripedes couldn't have written a scene more dramatic. The text messages I composed, the voice mails I left, some of them barely comprehesible, were, at best, not suggestive of reasonability.

I'm crazy. And whilst I'm going through an particularly unstable period, I just can't manage to keep it to myself. I first have to direct all my irrational insecurities to my significant other, and then I freely express them to whomever will answer their phone when I call.

You would think, that after nearly three decades of having to deal with myself, I'd learn to lock myself in a room, with only a TV and an Agatha Christie book (possibly a journal also (to be burned shorly after my release)), only to come out when the period of instability has passed. But no. That's not what I do.

I am an evangelical witness to my own dysfunction.

While you may not be able to empathize with my problem, surely you will sympathize with me! Please, please feel sorry for me! Please! I promise I'll invite you to my next pity party. . .and let you fix my soup.

Yours eternally for infinity,
Queen, III

Phoning It In

2008-09-03T08:03:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm barely teaching. It's awesome! I can't believe I get paid to do this sometimes. Although, my afternoons are usually pretty hectic, thanks to all those little monsters who still need to be in diapers. I guess I shouldn't complain, though, because right now I'm blogging while my class is quietly working on a project I made up on the fly. I didn't come to school prepared today, not in the least, but you couldn't tell it from how "engaged" my students are.

"Engaged" is the new buzz word in education. We LOVE to use the word "engaged" now. Are your students engaged in this conversation, engaged in this lesson, engaged to you? Ha! Just kidding...but in some circumstances, it would be a valid question.

The only thing I have to worry about today is what the cafeteria is serving for lunch. I really hope it's nachos.

Mad, I tell you! Quite Mad!!

2008-08-29T14:25:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I had a great idea! My Man Out of Jail and I (who, by the way I have now been seeing for over a year (I KNOW!)) really wanted to taste the "Best Hamburger in America" as rated by somebody important. It just so happened that "Best Hamburger in America" was only about a 40 minute drive away. Man Out of Jail said, "Let's drive." And I said, "Wait! I have a great idea! Let's ride public transit!"

In Texas, those are famous last words.

"Best Hamburger in America" was pretty awesome....BUT... it took 4 hours to get it and then 3 more hours to get back home and about 2 of those hours were spent waiting for a bus/train in 100 degree heat. It was a disaster. And it was all my idea.

Needless to say, Man Out of Jail won't be listening to any of my "great" ideas anytime soon.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, that when we were getting off of the train, to then get on the bus that would take us to "Best Hamburger in America," I fell down the stairs, flat on my face and broke my flip-flop (and lost the last two ounces of my dignity). Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk in a broken flip-flop? It probably would have been easier to hop.

*sigh* I have good intentions, though. It's too bad the road to heaven isn't paved with them.

Fatty McFat Pants

2008-08-28T07:19:00.000-07:00

I have gotten soooooo fat. I know that hearing people say that when they've gained a mere 10 or so pounds is obnoxious. Nobody wants to hear you complain about your fatness. And yet, here I am. Complaining.

You see around March of this year, I was lookin pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. However, life got hectic, and my diet and workout plan went down the drain. Then, this summer, I thought that instead of taking a full-time break for 10 weeks, I'd sign up for a full-time job...outside...in the Texas heat...all summer. Clearly, I have no sense.

For most people, a job in the heat would discourage them from eating a lot, but not me, no sir! Whatever I could get my hands on, I shoved it my mouth and washed it all down with some Gatorade...you know, to stay hydrated.

Imagine my surprise this morning when I put on some pants that are usually quite baggy and found said pants barely buttonable. BARELY buttonable!!

I am now in deep loathing of myself. And isn't that the most frustrating part?? That you can't fix your weight problems in just a couple of days?? I can't believe how unaware I've been of my gradual expansion!

*sigh* If only I had the discipline to have an eating disorder. I mean, once you recover from bulimia, you are never fat again, right? Have you ever seen a fat recovering bulimic? But, alas, I have not the strength to carry out such a diet plan! I'll be lucky to muster up the discipline to stop drinking Dr. Pepper every single day.

The bottom line is, I must do something quickly as I'm about to out widen all my clothes. And I have not the funding to purchase an entirely new, wider wardrobe.

Wish me luck, that is if anyone is still reading this blog, which I doubt they are...but if you are, wish me luck. I'm gonna do something, even if it involves eating less.

I hate eating less.

Nobody Loves Me

2008-08-27T06:26:00.000-07:00

Listen, I know that my posting has been sporadic at best and I know that I have let all 4 of my faithful readers down. I know this. I know. And I'm sorry. I feel kind of like I've been cheating on all of you! The guilt I've been carrying has been just too awful, so even though I've done this about a hundred times, I'm recommitting myself, to you, my readers and to my blog as a whole. In fact, I've set aside time everyday to make sure that my blog is my first priority. And if this sounds dubious, I'll add that the time I've set aside is time that I'm also at work....so when you factor that in, I think that you can have a little more confidence in my dedication.

"But, Queen," you say. "You've made this promise before! Why should we believe you??" Because...I'm blogging at work. Let me show you in an algebraic equation: Blog access at work + my questionable work ethic + my renewed promise to ALL my faithful readers = Blog Dedication. Don't you see, faithful readers?! Don't you?! The elements, as Dr. Watson would say, are coming together!! And maybe, slowly but surely, as I prove my dedication, 4 faithful readers will become 6 and 6 will become 10 and I'll be the happiest girl of all time!!!!!

I'm here for your daily reading pleasure. I promise. And maybe when I finally prove my loyalty, you'll love me as much as I love you. Maybe...just may be...

Breakin Up is Hard To Do

2008-07-14T19:30:00.001-07:00

That's right. It's not easy to break up with your man. It's so hard, in fact, I didn't actually do it. I'm weak. Also, I cried a lot...not at first...but later after he kinda started to cry...OH MY GOSH! It was awful.

I just know that if that's any indication of what it my be like to break up with My Man Out of Jail, I'll never be strong enough to do it. NEVER! I can't even begin to describe the horror of it all.

Soooooo - we're still together. And I'm not mad at him anymore. Everything else is just too gushy for me to repeat.

But, don't fret! The next time he does something to make me mad, you'll be the first to know.

Back To Square One

2008-07-12T22:39:00.000-07:00

As much as I hate to admit it, My Man Out of Jail is on his way out of my good graces. Things have been pretty rocky between us as of late, and while he claims he doesn't want to break up, he not doing much to back up that claim.

Take last night for instance. He felt, without much reason, that I was ignoring him. I'm not really sure why, but he felt that way. So, he sent me a text message that said, "Fine then. I'll just ignore you. Maybe for 2 minutes, maybe for 2 days." And he did ignore me for an entire night. He said he did it just to make me mad. Isn't he sounding like a real winner?! I left a voice message that said, among other things, that when something's wrong, he needs to use his big boy words and try to communicate with me instead of acting like a preschooler. Needless to say, that didn't go over to well. Buuuut, he had it coming.

And this isn't the first time he's pulled an incredibly immature stunt like this, this just happens to be the straw...the proverbial final straw. Because a girl can only take so much.

Now, most of the time, My Man Out of Jail is a fantastic boyfriend, but lately, these little "issues" keep popping up and I can only be expected to endure a finite amount of bullsh!t before I go absolutely out of my mind.

It really is too bad, isn't it? I mean, I just think that it's a really good thing that I'm so in love with myself, or who knows how long I might put up with his crap. I think too highly of myself to allow myself to be inconveninced for this long. Yes, yes, I know it sounds harsh. But seriously!! What am I left to do? If a man can't shape up, I can't spend the rest of my life trying to motivate him to be as wonderfully centered and reasonable as I am. (Stop laughing. I really can be quite reasonable when I put my mind to it.)

*sigh*

Now, I haven't actually broken up with him as yet. We're kind of not in full communication right now. I'm sort of hoping it'll just fizzle out...although it's hard to fizzle out a year-long relationship...but no matter!! I'll find a way to fix this! As things stand, though, he's really gonna have to bust his ass to win back all of this mad spinster's good lovin'.

Tragic, isn't it? Another one bites the dust.

The Most Tragic Story You've Ever Heard

2008-06-13T19:22:00.000-07:00

I have been working like a dog - that is if a dog got paid to sit and read a book all day. I've been on summer vacation now for a week, and I've hardly even gotten to sleep late!! It's sad, isn't it? I know that you really, really pity me and you should. I can't even remember when Judge Judy comes on. Depressing.

You see, I'm working so hard to pay off my debt, I've hardly time to do anything else. And whilst my summer lifeguarding job includes a lot of sitting, working on my tan, wearing next to nothing all day, and occasionally reading a book, I still have to go. That's the sad part. Maybe I'll feel differently when I get my first paycheck, but probably not.

So, just remember, while your working at your office desk in the air conditioning, I'm probably sitting out in the sun, by the pool, in my bathing suit, quite possibly reading a book...oh...and getting paid to do it.

Don't be ashamed to drop a tear.

The End of the School Year and Possibly the End of My Life

2008-06-08T21:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it through another school year. However, unlike last year, I'm still working. *sigh* You heard right. No People's Court for me. I have to pay off the unreasonable amount of debt I've racked up by being a mad spinster. Who knew it was so expensive to be both a spinster and mad?!! Someone should have told me before I signed up for mad spinsterism.

Now on to somethings I'd like to complain about:

1. If one more person tells me that I think too much, I'm going stab them in the eye with a ball point pen. Did Aristotle think too much?!! What about Einstein?!! That's what I thought. Keep your mouth shut, flunkie.

2. I have a boyfriend now and while most of the time it's pretty great, sometimes it really sucks. Today just happens to be one of those days. *sigh* I mean, I hate to be that girl...you know...the one who's always like, "You don't DESERVE me!!! With everything I've DONE for you, and this is the THANKS I get!! Screw YOU! [Dramatic exit]" because nobody likes that girl. But, sometimes....

3. My dog's breath stinks like something crawled up inside of it and died. I really wish he could brush his own teeth.

4. I have a bunch of laundry that needs to be folded and put up. Any volunteers?? Be by my house around 2pm tomorrow. I'll leave a key under the mat. Thanks!!!

And that's it. For now. That is, if anyone is even still reading this blog, which they probably aren't and that's ok, because it's been in a coma for 4 months. But, I'll read it. And anyway, I'm my biggest fan.

Legitimate Research

2008-02-14T07:01:00.000-08:00

There are lots of fantastic reasons to live in El Barrio. For instance, my condo was phenomenally cheap and I'm sure that the rent is equally as cheap. I live a block from a grocery store called, "Fiesta," and trust me, if you've never been to a "Fiesta" you'll want to do all you can to find one and become a regular patron! Everyday at "Fiesta" is a fiesta, and I'm putting it lightly. Other places of interest are my alley way, which is always bustling with festive tejano music and various types of business transactions, Red Coleman's Red-E-Mart, Yin's Wok, the car wash, the park next door, and J's Food Mart. All of these places offer a variety of products which one always has a use for AND possess a fascinating clientel. But none of these appealing features can surpass the one alluring element that was the reason I moved to El Barrio in the first place: Mexican tacos.

There are so many authentic Mexican taco stands in my neighborhood, it makes my mouth water everytime I drive home. And they're all so cheap! On the high end, they cost $1.35 a taco. That's $1.35 for pure heaven. They're served just like they are in Mexico with lime, cilantro, homemade salsa in fresh corn tortillas. But, which one is the best? This mystery has plagued me ever since I moved to El Barrio. And finally, this past Saturday, with a spirit of determination, my man, my neighbor and I set out to find the best taco of El Barrio.

It was a lot harder than you might think! We had to eat until we were stuffed. So many tacos...but we forged ahead...braving the possibility of our stomachs exploding. It was tough, but with careful consideration we decided unanimously that the best tacos in El Barrio were surprisingly from the gas station, Red Coleman's Red-E-Mart, as it were. Better than Fiesta, although Fiesta has tacos for only $1 a taco, and better than Tacos y Mas! (I know. With a name like Tacos y Mas, you'd think that they'd be fantastic.) But the best part of all of this, is the peace of mind that comes with being sure of my favorite taco. I mean, even though they cost about a dollar, I still want the best money can buy.

So the next time you're rollin' through El Barrio, see for yourself. You won't be dissapointed. And remember, if you have any other needs (bootleg DVDs, illegal substances, or loud tejano music) my alley way is just around the corner.

I bet your neighborhood doesn't even offer half as much.

Why Your Life Is Better Than Mine

2008-02-13T09:30:00.000-08:00

Malaise. A malaise has crept into my eyeballs, probably a remnant of the pink eye I got a couple of weeks ago.

I know what you're thinking: "Eww. Pink eye. Only dirty people get pink eye." I oft have thought the exact same thing. But heed my warning, this line of thinking will only lead to your demise! Especially if you work with small children.

An additional reason for my malady is the weather. It's still cold. I'm so, so tired of the cold weather.

*sigh* *heavy sigh* *heavy, heavy sigh*

Shouldn't we all be hibernating during the cold weather??! Having to function in the cold is unnatural.

I don't know how people stand sub-zero temperatures without faking a 5 month coma...wait a minute...I wonder if I could do that...fake a coma...

I think I could fake a coma. I mean, I do have a theatre degree. So, how hard can it be? Just don't ever open your eyes when other people are around. Or maybe even have a series of several comas...where I am "comatose" for several days, then wake up to watch Judge Judy, then go back to sleep when doctors start talking about physical therapy and doing anything besides getting up to go to the bathroom. If I was convicing enough I'm sure no one would catch on.

Besides, I'm already sleepy. I think I'll get right on that. Don't be surprised if you don't hear from me for several days. Being in a "coma" is very consuming and I can only be expected to do so much.

okay...listen...we need to keep our voices down...

2008-02-01T11:30:00.000-08:00

...because I'm blogging at work....and I don't want to draw attention to it just in case they take it away again...because they seem to like to take blogging at work away from me A LOT. They're meanies. Maybe this time they won't notice and I can blog forever and ever and ever at work, instead of, you know, actually working. I love not actually working.

So what's going on guys? Are you at work? Aren't you glad it's Friday? I know I am!

I don't have a whole lot to say...however, it's still the season of Kristenmans, so please don't stop thinking about me...you know, in the spirit of the season.

Merry Kristenmas!!

2008-01-29T18:21:00.000-08:00

Today's my birthday. Because my parents are clearly crazy (I didn't get this way all by myself), my mother made up a holiday just for me!! What fun! Funny AND narcissistic! So, below, you'll find an explanation of the sacred holiday of Kristenmas. (And by the way, just because the name of the holiday is Kristenmas, it doesn't necessarily mean that my name is Kristen. You can still call me Queen. Kristen is my saint's name.)

"We are entering the season of Kristenmas (from the Spanish: more Kristen of the celebration of Kristen). For those of you who feel like FestivasfortheRestofUs has become too commercialized and exploited, I encourage yo to focus on Kristenmas. This celebration has its origin in 1980, in the United States when Queen, III was born. Silver, crochet, scented powders, lotions and U.S. Savings Bonds were among the first gifts to celebrate this occasion. Since that time the celebration has grown, until now it is celebrated by people worldwide and gifts have become more elaborate.

"Kristenmas actually occurs on January 29, but the days preceding and following are included in most cultures; however, the time frame varies country by country. In the United States, the celebrations begins January 25 and ends January 31 (the seven days of Kristenmas); however, in some African and Asian countries, the season of Kristenmas begins the 3rd Sunday after the winter solstice and continues through February 5. Most European and South American countries follow the same time period as the U.S.

"Activities surrounding Kristenmas include gatherings of families and friends, which include a variety of delicious foods; giving gifts to Kristen; watching and listening to Kristen perform; public readings of Kristen's written works; dancing; and buying large quantities of her artwork.

"Kristenmas is a time for us to withdraw form our many daily distractions and turn our attention to Kristen. It is a time for us to refrain from spending money on ourselves so that we can give gifts to Kristen. Some of the gifts that people find the most fulfillment in giving include items from Tiffany's, Neiman Marcus and Victoria's Secret; Cheesecake Factory gift cards; and environmentally friendly automobiles. If one cannot afford items this costly, it is suggested that one join with several others to give a significant gift rather than giving less meaningful items such as shot glasses.

"Kristenmas is a time to reflect on what life was like B.K. (before Kristen) and A.K.A. (after Kristen's arrival). I encourage you, this year, to take time out of your busy schedule and truly celebrate Kristenmas. Set aside time during this seven-day season to think about Kristen and you will find that the months following will be filled with thoughts of. . . Kristen."

See? Crazy is our last name.

Why So Much Food Miss Queen??

2008-01-15T19:17:00.000-08:00

Today I ran into a couple of my 4th grade students in the grocery store. They saw me and came running up to me: "Miss Queen!! Miss Queen!! What are you doing?!"

How sweet. I love it when I see students outside of school. I was standing in line waiting to buy my groceries. Keep in mind that I haven't been to the grocery store in a month, so my basket was FULL. The boys ran off to catch up with their dad and I continued to stand in line. Apparently, I was in a slow line, because I was almost up to the moving belt, the boys hollered at me again. They were in the next line over.

"Hey, Miss Queen, are all those groceries for YOU?!!!"

"Yes, they are. Do you think it's a lot?"

"Yeah. That's a lot of groceries! They're really just for you?!"

"Yep."

"Are you sure you don't have a baby or sumthin?!"

Needless to say, I laughed and blushed, because it was both a funny thing to say and struck a tiny nerve with me, since I am the fattest memeber of my family and I do eat a lot.

"Miss Queen, why is your face turning so red??!!"

*sigh* It's hard to catch a break. I must have been heavily affected by their comments, because not two hours later, I went and bought a pair of jeans that are a size too small. I figured they would give me something to aspire to. Or stuff myself into. We shall see, won't we?!

I'm going to try not to eat all my groceries in one night, but it's hard to predict the future. I've already had 1/3 of a pizza.

Just pray I don't eat so much my stomach explodes.

Did I Die?

2008-01-12T17:42:00.001-08:00

No. I'm not dead. Just really, extraordinarily exhausted. The last two months of 2007 were ridiculous and it was all my fault. Also, I still can't blog at work.

I realize that all two of readers probably don't even read my blog anymore. I know that I wouldn't. In fact I don't. I haven't read my blog in two and a half months. Nor I have written anything. I'm surprised I still know how to write.

So, just in case anybody cares, although I doubt anyone does, here's an update: my man is still not in jail; I'm still doing hott yoga; I still have to wake up way too early; and it's still not summertime. But, all in all, things are pretty good.

Christmastime was mediocre. We had another White Elephant Crapchange and my Mamaw's house. I can't even remember what I got, but I'm pretty sure it was so crappy I threw it away. I mean, I think that I'd rather have gotten a can of green beans. At least I could have used that.

Spending time with my family was great, but I got soooo fat. Turns out, that I'm the heaviest member of my immediate family. It's amazing I have any self-esteem at all. I mean, all the members of my immediate family are emaciated, but that's not the point. I'm fatter than my dad AND my brother!!!! It hasn't kept me from eating, though. Apparently, I want to be morbidly obese. I've heard it's good to have goals.

Advantages to Your Man Being OUT of Jail

2007-10-24T14:52:00.000-07:00

Guys. I know hearing me complain is so much more interesting than hearing me say things that are nice. Or at least, I like complaining a lot more than I do being kindly. I realize that makes me a bad person, but whatev.

So this weekend, my man was all, "Gee. I sure wish you had TV." And I was all, "I KNOW!" And he was all, "Why don't we walk on over to the Family Dollar and get you an antenna?" And I was like, "An a-what-a?"

Turns out the thing that magically grabs channels out of the air is called an antenna!

So, we walked across the street to the Family Dollar and bought it. It cost $6. And I have 6 channels. That's 6 channels closer to heaven.

God bless my man for being so useful. And God bless me for being so pretty. And witty. And gay.

Amen.

Advantages to Your Man Being in Jail

2007-10-14T09:05:00.000-07:00

Please don't misunderstand me! I don't want my man to go back to jail. I don't. It's just that, well, when he was in jail, there wasn't much time to be irritated with each other.

Here's the thing: generally speaking, my man is fantastic. He's sensitive, beautiful, strong, can pick me up without grunting, he likes my dog, etc., etc. But it doesn't matter how wonderful your man is, he's a man. And as long as he's a man, he will do things that are inexplicable and irritating. That's what men do. Which brings me to my point: there are certain advantages to your man being in jail.

Firstly, you always know where your man is. This is a HUGE advantage. Because, once your man is out of jail, you have to wonder where he is and what he is doing. And while you may not spend a lot of time wondering where he is and what he is doing when he is out of jail, when he's in jail, you spend NO time wondering. It's kind of nice.

Secondly, he never loves you as much as when he's in jail. Whilst your man is in jail, he is emotional. Jail is difficult (so I've been told). And any little thing you do for him is greatly appreciated. I like being appreciated. I especially like being greatly appreciated.

Thridly, you don't have to invest a lot of time. The most time you could possibly spend on your man when he's in jail is one 15 minute phone call per day and three 30 minute visitations per week. That's it!!! The rest of the time you can spend on yourself!!

Now I realize that I'm sounding a bit selfish, but isn't that what every girl wants??? A man who adores her, but who takes up relatively little of her time???? Isn't it??

Well, that's all over now. Please, please don't get me wrong. I like being able to actually touch my man, instead of having to look at him through glass. I like that he can buy me dinner and go to the movies with me. All of that is great!! But there is a certain amount of security that goes with having your man behind bars, and for me, that's gone now. However, dear reader, it's not over for you!!

Go find yourself a man (or woman) in jail!!! And then, tell me about it, so I can live vicariously through you!! Thanks in advance!

-Queen

A Tragedy of Greek Proportions (but a lot less boring)

2007-10-10T19:03:00.000-07:00

Presumably, anyway.

Listen, I don't have TV. I don't have any channels!!! All I can watch is DVDs and/or VHS tapes.

I'm serious.

*SIGH*********

This is just the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with in all my life. I DON'T WANT TO PAY FOR CABLE! I'm just too cheap. And I wouldn't even know where to begin to look for those metal things that you put on top of your TV that grab channels out of the air. I've been seriously contemplating heading out to the alleyway and trying to "give" myself some "complementary" cable. (The cable box is in the alleyway. I don't want to cause any confusion, because there are also crack heads and real-life prostitutes in the alleyway.) Anynoodle, I just want to die all the time.

What is life without TV, I ask you????? WHAT IS IT???!!!! A broken-winged bird that cannot fly. That's what it is. It's Oedipus, wandering in the forest with his eyeballs poked out. It's Thomas Hardy, alive and well, writing the sequel to Jude the Obscure.

I long and weep for TV every evening. And whilst I do indeed love Arrested Development with all my heart, how many times can I watch the DVDs before it gets sad and a bit depressing?? How many??!!

I think I will venture out into that alleyway! Wish me luck, blogosphere! Who knows, if I stay out there long enough, I may even make a few extra bucks!

Just kidding.

Maybe.

Once Upon a Mattress...

2007-10-04T20:07:00.000-07:00

Maybe guys really are from Venus and girls really are from Mars or vice versa or whatever. Because, upon recent reflection, I can't tell you how many times I have put two (or more) guys in awkward situations that they actually stayed in.

Possibly I'm not making myself clear:

There has been more than one occasion where I "accidentally" double booked a date. Both guys showed up and both guys (or more) stayed. Bizarre, no??

Now, if I ever showed up to a guy's place for a date, only to find a cute little number planted on his couch, I'd be out the door as fast as I could turn on my stilettos!

The first time I ever committed such a horrid dating crime, I was in college. Both guys showed up at my apartment and both guys stayed. We all ended up smokin' some reefer and things get a little fuzzy from there...
However, isn't it strange that they both stayed???!!!! Why were they not mad at me??? Why didn't they call me ugly names to my face and then storm out dramatically????!! That's what I would have done!!!

Another time (and this is all I'll be confessing to today), I was out with one guy at a bar/club. Whilst there with Guy A, I call Guy B to come along and hang out with us. Because the situation was fairly casual, I thought it would be no big deal. But between the time I called Guy B and his arrival, I got myself pretty sloshed. Mostly, I ignored both Guy A and Guy B while I went and danced with/gave my number out to other guys. Then, at the end of the night, I made it fairly clear that I wanted Guy A to "escort" me home and not Guy B. Here's where it gets fascinating: Guy B still called me the next day! As if he wasn't bothered a bit by my complete lack of etiquette!!

I say all this to say, while indeed I am frequently very badly behaved, it is only because you men let me get away with it!! Shame on you for not making me feel guilty! Shame on you for continuing to call me even after I've mistreated you so wretchedly! Grow a pair, call me ugly names to my face, and slam the door dramatically once or twice!! What is wrong with you??! I'm no Pamela Anderson. I can't really be worth all the trouble, can I?

*sigh* I probably am worth the trouble. Oh well. I guess I'll just keep on with my wild ways until one day a man comes along with the strength to slam a door dramatically in my face. And when that day comes, I'm gonna open that slammed door, tackle him to the ground, and marry him. Whether he likes it or not.

If It Were Fiction, I'd Have a Book Deal

2007-09-29T21:23:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in every girl's life (in my case, hundreds of times) where she does something that she's not particularly proud of. I won't be time-specific here, because, well, I don't want any documentation...nor do I want anyone to be able to create a time-line of my shenanigans. We'll just say it was long ago and far away...fair enough? Great. Let's continue.

Soooooooooo, there are many, many times in my life when I do things that don't bring me a great sense of pride. For instance, there was a time, either recently or a long time ago, I was mad at someone(s) I was dating. To relieve myself of the frustration, I decided to out with some friends. We went to a bar where the men outnumbered the women at least 5 to 1. I began to drink alcohol...and ...

all hell broke loose.

I was the wildest woman ever in the history of all time. Drinking and dancing and dancing and drinking. Nothing could stop me!!! I was Queen of the night!! I suspect that there were many who thought that quite possibly I was a "lady" of the night as well.

Anywhoodle, there was lots of drinking and dancing and all manner of things! What fun! Caution to the wind and all that! Who needs a man?? ! I don't! No!! (Why have just one when there are soooo many??!)

I gave my number away at least twice and danced like there was no tomorrow. I nearly broke my toe during a slight stumble because of my heightened klutziness. I ripped the leather on the heel of my favorite stilettos.

And naturally, the next morning, I woke up with a magnificent headache and a fantastic sense of confusion. Because, upon reflecting, I was almost positive that at one point I was upside-down.

But, how was I upside-down??? And why?? In my memory, which by the way was fuzzy, I could see a man in a green shirt. We were dancing, and then suddenly, I was upside down!! My fuzzy memory would then fast-forward to the same green shirt handing me a phone and my fingers punching my phone number into it.

Interesting.

As the days stretched on, I became increasingly obsessed with the status of my upside-downness. There had been two unfamiliar numbers that had appeared on my phone several times. Like any reasonable girl, I ignored them, because...I mean...a guy from the bar?? Really?? That's gross. But, I couldn't let it go! I had to know: was I really upside-down?? I had to know.

I called the first number. It was awkward. Mostly because I didn't know his name, and also because I had to act like I wanted to talk to him and not just ask: "Hey, um....was I upside-down whilst dancing with you??" A hard question to ask indeed.

Long story longer... it wasn't him. *sigh* That means I had to call the other guy. Distasteful.

I decided a text message would be the easiest way to begin the conversation. Unfortunately, the other guy was quite the eager beaver. He wanted to come see me. *sigh* He did. It was gross. He stuck his tongue down my throat after I asked him not to. He had over a gallon of cologne on. He thought he was really hot and that he could woo me with very little effort. He was a fool.

However, and this is the good news, I found at that I WAS upside-down after all!!!! Turns out there's a dance move that is not unlike one of those fancy swing-dance moves, but that you can do to songs by Kanye West and Mystikal!! No fancy dance steps required! I got him to demonstrate between attempts at getting his hands up my shirt.

The bottom line is this: I solved the mystery. Now, yes, I did have to have more than one uncomfortable conversation with guys I would never go out with in a million-kajillion years, and, yes, I did have to suffer a creepy guy who had no idea he was a horrible kisser, but I solved the mystery!!!

And we all know that I've made out for less. At least this time I had an objective. I think the government should really consider using me as one of those really hot, sexy spies that slip important communists mickeys and then take pictures of important documents with an exceptionally tiny camera. I would be awesome. And at least I'd be serving my country. Instead of, you know, serving....well, do we really want to analyze that??

No, we don't.

Letter to Myself from Myself, part xxo

2007-09-25T18:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Queen the third,

*sigh* You know, I really am ashamed of how undedicated you've been to your blog as of late. The thing is, you entertain me! I love you so, so much. And I know that you can't blog at work anymore - and, really, that does suck. But, let's be serious for a minute here: how long does it honestly take to write a funny, witty, clever blog entry that I will want to read over and over again?? It's not as if you spend much time proofreading!! (Possibly, none at all.)

Additionally, your ridiculous and frivilous actions make everyone feel better about their lives, and you have not been very diligent in sharing as of late. For example, there may be people who have really crappy boyfriends who don't buy them Tiffany's as often as they should. Those people can just read an entry or two and realize, "Well, hell! At least my man isn't in jail!" and all the pain and frustration of their inadequate realationship goes away!

Or, when they have to wake up at 7:45am to get to work by 9 am, they can say to themselves, "At least I don't have to wake up at 6:30!!!"

So, you see, Queen, what you do is closely related to the work of Mother Teresa and/or the Pope. And of all the sins you commit on a daily basis, not sharing what a fool you are with everyone else is by far the biggest!!

I chastise thee, Queen, III!! No more chocolate Dr. Pepper floats for you, Missy! You're punished.

And remember, I'm only doing this because I love you.

With all the sincerety I can muster,

Queen, III

A Little Pity, Please

2007-09-08T10:49:00.001-07:00

Does anybody know how early 6:30 am is?? It's so early. So, so early. Incidently, it is also the hour that I have to wake up every morning. (Besides Saturday and Sunday.) And it doesn't matter how much sleep I get either, because I always feel really crappy when that alarm goes off. To put it lightly, I am NOT a morning person.

So, I'm asking you all to feel sorry for me. Really, really sorry. Because while the rest of you were working all summer, I wasn't and I got used to doing whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, so you see...it's just so much harder for me!

Now, do you feel sorry for me?? My burder is SO much heavier because I only work 9 months out of the year! It's like being married to a rich man who buys you things and then he divorces you suddenly and oops! you signed a prenup! Darn the luck! But, if you had been poor the whole time, you would never know the difference, so it wouldn't be sad if you stayed poor. Don't you see?? I'm just like the woman who's rich husband dumps her for the younger bleached blonde with bigger fake boobs!! And I thought said rich man was in love with me and we would be together forever, so I signed the prenup!! The only difference is, I'll get married to another rich man next summer. But, it's still sad!!!

I imagine you're probably crying right now out of pity. Well, keep crying, honey! Cause it only gets worse! I have to work for 8 more months and 2 more weeks.

OH! And I only get 30 minutes for lunch.

So, please, oh please, cry me a river.

Why Moving Sucks...even when your man is out of jail

2007-08-26T17:38:00.000-07:00

Life is hard. And you'd think that now that my man is out of jail, I'd be leaping for joy every day, but alas!!! I still have boxes to unpack and my bedroom still hasn't been painted. I was going to paint it today, but I decided to take a nap. I'm very ambitious.

And now that I have my very own home, I don't get free local channels via the complex dish - oh no! I don't even have ANY TV!!! I'm so depressed, it's hard for me to get up in the morning.

I have a mexican blanket covering my sliding glass door because I haven't had time to go get curtains. Why haven't I had time??

Oh, well between, helping my brother find a very expensive hole in the wall to live in whilst attending UCLA, actually starting to work again, and tending to my-man-out-of-jail, house-fixing-up time has been hard to come by.

And on that note, remember how I briefly mentioned a couple of posts ago that there were some advantages to your man being in jail?? One of those advantages is that you have lots of time to yourself. Now, please, please don't get me wrong...I'd never want him to go back...but tending to your man takes a lot of time. As it turns out, men have needs! Who knew?!

Anywhoodle, now that school's about to be back in session, I'll do my darndest to be way more dedicated to you all and give you lots of stories about my elementary school teaching mishaps. Can you hardly wait?

This ALWAYS Happens!!

2007-08-15T13:08:00.000-07:00

So, I've been spending the whole summer lying around on my big, fat rear and now, all of a sudden, I'm so overwhelmed, I wish I could assume the fetal position for about 3 months.

You see, until early Tuesday morning, I was moving into a new condo (which I purchased all by my fabulous self). I was up until 1 am. At 4 am, my brother and I left to fly to L.A. so that I can help him find a place to live up here whilst he attends UCLA. We thought that we could just come here and take public transit everywhere like you do in New York....but we were WAY off. Also, we're staying in Venice Beach and the hostel we're sleeping in reminds me a lot of the "Happiness Hotel" in The Muppets Take Manhattan. Seriously.

I'll be back soon, so do not fret! Oh, and did I mention that my man is out of jail?? For reals! I'll have lots to tell....very, very soon. And you can take that to the bank! (But not my bank, because there's no money in my account. Try Forky's.)

All my love,
Queen III

Not as Much Excitement, but Boring Nonetheless

2007-07-26T16:50:00.000-07:00

There's been no tree climbing nor have I consumed an entire bottle of wine in the past few days, but I have slept A LOT. How's that for adventure?? Really, though, if you knew about some of the crazy dreams I have on a regular basis, you'd realize how brave I really am.

But besides sleeping, I've also been filling my time with some fairly productive activity. For instance, I've been taking a metal sculpting class and OMG. I am awesome at it. Last night, my teacher was all, "Queen's kicking the boys' butts!" And he wasn't lying. I was kicking everyone's butts. (The class is all boys, except for me. And by boys, I mean grown men.)

Then, I decided that I should probably do some stone sculpting as well. I'm also awesome at that.

Now, I know that you're all pretty impressed and intimidated by my mad skills, however I have to confess that all of the aforementioned activity takes about 6 hours every week.

I sleep about 8 - 12 hours a day. I watch the People's Court everyday. And that makes up for the majority of my time. It's sad, isn't it? I have 3 months off every year and I spend the majority of it sleeping.

I have 3 more weeks of summer. I pray to Zeus that I'll be able to wake up.

What I've Been Up To...No Exaggerations

2007-07-17T20:55:00.000-07:00

According to Forky, all 3 of my faithful readers are worried because I've been so tardy in updating my blog. Thanks for worrying, by the way. It makes me feel loved.

But, seriously, what have I been up to?? And that's a good question. I'd be lying if I said I've been filling my summer vacation days with productive, healthy activity. I mean, this week I've done much better so far, but last week....

Last week was...well, to put it lightly, indulgent.

Monday night a friend came over and we decided it would be a good idea to drink some alcohol. I'm sure most of you can relate to this, because oft times, when you're sober, alcohol does seem like a good idea. *sigh*

Betwixt the two of us, 2 bottles of wine were consumed, plus 4 shots of Vodka, 1 beer, and a Whiskey Sour. I won't say who drank what, but I will say that in all of my relationships, be it a friendship or more, I believe in equality.

Suffice it to say, that I was completely out of control. I loudly explained to my friend in the bar (and trust me...EVERYONE heard) that my college shenanigans were nothing like prostitution, because I gave it away for free. Classy. THEN, on the walk back to my apartment, I reminisced about my childhood days when I was such a good tree climber. To prove my point, I climbed a tree. In downtown Everycity. Across the street from one of the fanciest hotels in town. And because of my drunken state, while the climb up was indeed fairly graceful, the climb down gave me a nasty cut on my foot and a pretty big bruise on my arm. Incidentally, I didn't even know I was bleeding until we got back to my apartment and I looked at my foot. (Dear Reader, please make a mental note here: do not climb trees whilst drunk.)

I spent ALL Tuesday recovering. So sickly was I, that for most of the day, I did not even feel like eating! (I KNOW.)

Wednesday, I had to go visit my man in jail and go to my metal sculpting class. (By the way, I'm a bad-ass at welding. Just like in Flashdance..."she's a maniac, maniac"...but for me they'd change the lyrics from "on the floor" to "in real life.")

Thursday was another day full of shameless indulgence. All I had been wanting for the past umpteen thousand days was some freakin' cheese fries. So, some friends and I went to this local burger joint that is absolutely known for their cheese fries. I ordered cheese fries almost as soon as we sat down. The waitress came back and asked us what we wanted for our meals. I told her the cheese fries were my meal. She looked at me like I was crazy. Clearly, she was a wise old sage because, as it turns out, I am crazy. It took me ALL of Friday to recover from the cheese fries binge. Let's just say, the first few hours of the day were so bad, they were quite literally painful. PAINFUL.

This week has been much better, howev. No more cheese fries or whole bottles of wine for me, no sir! It's time to look for new ways to be indulgent!

I'll let you guys know what I come up with.

A letter to Myself, from Myself, part duex

2007-07-03T21:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Queen, III,
Even though your laziness has reached an all time high, I still love you! You are just too fabulous not to love. Now it's true that most of the time you could do more with your hair, and for the love of Pete, could you put some eyeliner on every now and again??? But, despite your tendency toward couch potato-ism, you're still pretty great, and I should know.

Wasn't it great to see RHMFT today in Hott Yoga and watch his "professional trainer" a$$ get kicked?? Man, that was too fun! I'm pretty sure the delight you took in his struggles with the 34 postures of the Fire class might go against Yoga principles, but whatev. He had it comin'!

But, I really do need to get down to business here, Queen. You're turning into a lazy good-for-nothing! This is not what we intended! I realize that your man's in jail and you're confused about whether or not you should use this time to revel in your Spinsterhood, or to "stand by your man," so to speak, but your idleness is seriously ridiculous. I mean, the hours consumed by TV alone are staggering. I also realize that the incessant rain has really put a damper on your plans to get a kick-a$$ tan this summer, but for the love of Joe, just reactivate your tanning salon membership!! You see, there really is a solution to every problem!

Listen, you have 1.75 months of summer vacation left. That's plenty of time to redeem yourself! Get to it. Before you lose all your friends, Taraji emancipates himself, and you get more cellulite on you butt. And I'm only saying this because I care.

Yours always and forever,

Queen, III

Boring

2007-06-28T17:23:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in so long because I'm so boring. I ain't got nuthin' to say. Remarkable, no? Also, it won't stop raining. I feel about as soggy as the ground. Taraji and I barely have the energy to peel ourselves off of the couch. Incidently, I'm pretty sure my couch needs to be steam cleaned.

Anarchy

2007-06-21T23:22:00.000-07:00

Family vacation was in Washington, DC this year. I was pretty stoked, and I have to say, that overall, it was a pretty fab vacation. I got to see lots of crap that I had previously only seen in movies, and best of all, I got to see Skinny Jenny, who just happens to be one of my bestest friends in the whole wide world! And I'm not just saying that because she's privy to just about all the sinful things I did in college. NO! Even if she didn't know enough about me to blackmail me, she would still totally be one of my besties. I swear.

Anywhoodle, I must admit here, dear readers, that a trip to our nation's capitol has left me feeling a little less patriotic than when I left. I realize that this is probably the opposite reaction of most people, but let me explain:

So, my mother manages to get us a White House tour, which, by most accounts are pretty effing hard to get. I am soooo excited. I mean, say what you want about America and our President, but what girl wouldn't get excited about getting to see decadently decorated rooms with fabulous furniture and fantasize about Jackie O holding proper-but-still-somehow-edgy tea parties?????

In order to be "cleared" for your White House tour, you have to give the White House people everything short of your first-born child: your social security number, driver's license number, birth certificate something or another, and heaven knows what else. Such disclosure of information led me to believe that this was going to be a kick-ass tour. I mean, why would a tour be so hard to get if it wasn't kick-ass, right??

Now, you are not allowed to bring ANYTHING into the White House. You can't even leave a backpack with the security desk. That means that I had to leave my water bottle, moisturizer, ibuprofen, AND lipgloss at the hotel. Again, I think, "Man, this tour is going to be the TOUR OF ALL TOURS!! I can't wait."

Turns out, I could wait.

We get there at our designated time, show them our IDs, go through security, and proceed on to the White House. Being the stupid tourists that we are, we wait at what we think is the lobby, waiting for someone to show us around, but no one comes. Tentatively, we proceed down a hallway, and up a staircase, still thinking that there will eventually be a tour guide. We mill about and view two ornately decorated rooms that we can't actually go in to, because they're roped off. The people in front of us keep walking forward, so we follow.

In a minute we figure out, that like Godot, our tour guide is never coming. We follow the roped-off pathway through a "Green Room," a "Red Room," and something else that is cleverly named for the color of the walls. Then, we land outside. At this point, we look at each other for a few seconds, all bewildered. "Is this it?" We all ask. We notice some people leaving.

Again, bewildered, we furrow our brows, look around, and look at each other.

"That was some bullsh!t," I eloquently state.

Well, we were all thinking it!

I swear upon my entire shoe collection that the entire "White House Tour" took us all of 10 minutes... and we took our time!!!!

Can you believe it???!!! I HAD TO GIVE UP MY BACKPACK!!!! And for what, I ask. For what?! To see a bunch of fancy rooms?!!! Well, no thanks, America!! I'll take my lipgloss over a craptastic 10 minute tour any day!!!!

That's right, Mr. President. You heard me! Your house sucks. And my lips haven't fully recovered from the moisture deprivation!!!

Now, I'm not saying that I'll be the cause of a huge uprising or anything like that...but what about the uprising in my heart, Mr. President?? Huh? What about that?

If America ever asks me to give up my lipgloss again, I'm moving to Canada. Or even worse: France.

I'm Not Dead

2007-06-18T16:49:00.000-07:00

I've just been on family vacation. It's been pretty exhausting.

A Note From the Couch of Queen, III

2007-06-08T12:28:00.000-07:00

Well summer's begun and the couch has proven to be my favorite place...or at least the place where I spend most of my time. So if you need anything, you know where to find me. Taraji's here, too, but he's usually sleeping. But, as long as you don't ask me to do anything during The People's Court, we should be okay. Please don't worry about me getting as fat as I did last summer because I'm still doing hottttt yoga. Oh! And if I'm not here on the couch, then I'm probably asleep by the pool.
Okay, tootles!!!

Yours Truly,
Queen, III

Good News, Everybody! I Have a Boyfriend!

2007-05-22T16:06:00.000-07:00

I got a phone call from Doc's Bail Bonds today. Doc told me that my boyfriend had given them his girlfriend's phone number because she has a job. And apparently, I was the girlfriend, because Doc was calling me. Now, I was not aware that I had a boyfriend. However, the good news is that he's in jail, so he can't cheat on me!!! At least not with another girl. Isn't it fabulous, guys?! Aren't you so, so proud? I think I'll tattoo his name on my neck.

Inner Monologue

2007-05-17T16:03:00.000-07:00

I love yoga. I really do. Nothing's better. I don't care what anybody says. Even people who say that it's all just a load of crap. They're probably just jealous....although I'm not sure of what. My eye won't stop twitching. Just like when I took the LSAT. I can't wait until school is out. I think I'll camp out by the pool for a full week. Nobody would miss me. Taraji could hunt for squirrels and worms. I'm sure my apartment management won't mind. I would kill for some french fries right now. I wish BFF wasn't in Alaska right now. I really need to talk to her about how cranky I am and how I wish I could sleep late. Maybe I should start dating a professional football player...I wonder where they hang out. I would kill to be on a Spanish novella. Too bad I can't speak fluent Spanish. I can cuss in Spanish and say "I love you." That should really about cover it from what I've seen. I wonder where I audition. I would also kill to be a pop star. But, I'm too fat. Just thinking about it kind of makes me want to go eat some pasta. Speaking of...I have some on the stove. Crap. I have to go.

High Society is Lame

2007-05-08T16:59:00.000-07:00

Okay, guys. Maybe I've been too busy too notice, or maybe, because I'm a silly little small-town girl I was a little starstruck, but the truth is all this socialite, high-society crap is kind of lame-oid. The "theme" of the gala this year is, "Dance With the Stars." And, unfortunately, it was my idea to hire local professional ballroom dancers.

I just don't know what I was thinking! If there's anything more disgusting than having to hang around a bunch of unhappy, drunk, plastic, rich people, it's watching aforementioned attempt to dance...ballroom style...with what will probably be some well-meaning and slightly out-of-shape "professional" dancers. And it's all my fault. Thankfully, there's lots of free booze at this thing. Let's just all hope I can drink enough before the dancing starts.

It's That time of Year Again

2007-05-03T18:16:00.000-07:00

Remember this fiasco last year?? Remember how I had to paint the mural for that gala and then my ex-boyfriend was a loser and left me high and dry and a-dub and her hubby had to bail me out and I was totally stressed and over-committed, etc., etc.?

Well, to rememdy that situation - the over-commiting, putting-myself-in-stressful-situations situation - I decided to commit to something else. (Makes sense doesn't it?) But, nothing ridiculous, or anything. I just decided that it might be a good idea to also direct a play with 15 3rd-5th graders who can't act. And this year, I'm not painting a mural for the gala, I'm just building some scenery in my apartment and donating three paintings for the silent auction. No biggie. I'm not even stressed out right now. It's probably all the hot yoga. Also, I'm not dealing with a f#ck-wit ex-boyfriend. That helps.

Anyway, for your entertainment I'm posting pictures of the ridiculousness:

Yes, that is the mural from last year in the background.

The scenery is taking up so much space, I have a 2.5 foot space on my couch on which I can watch my TV. Also, the boxes are too big to fit through my door. I'll have to take them apart to get them out. It's great. And before you say anything...I totally don't have a disorder. Really.

Tragedy of the Life of a Spinster

2007-04-28T17:54:00.000-07:00

Let me open this post by apologizing for the numerous typos, misspellings, and run-on sentences in my last post. I was ashamed, but too lazy to do anything about it. And for those of you who do worry about such things, I do usually notice my grammatical errors after I post. I'm just far too lazy to take action. So, I'm not stupid or grammatically challenged, just LAZY.

Now on to the title entry:

The Spinster Life has its perks. Doing what you want when you want is one of them. Sitting around in your underwear all day watching chick flicks is another. Only having to deal with your family is yet another. But, then there are things that are not so great: listening to that ol' biological clock tick, nightmares about dying old and alone with all your toy poodles eating your face off, having to deal with nearly everybody thinking there's GOT to be something wrong with you because you're not permanently attached. And then, every once in a while, you come across a guy that you think is perfect for you. "Great!" you think. "Companionship is fun!!" "Maybe this could last longer than 5 months and maybe it won't end in disaster!"

*sigh* These thoughts are inevitably followed by disaster, however, and you find yourself listening to Fiona Apple and watching Bridget Jones Diary over and over and over and thinking, "Maybe there is something wrong with me!" But, there's never anything wrong with you. It's men.

I'm serious. I've lived in Everycity for 5 years now, and I have yet to find a decent man who isn't married, gay, or really, really old. And trust me. I've shopped around.

So, what to do now? Become a lesbian? Enter a convent? Submit to tragic spinsterhood, buy some more toy poodles to ensure that at the time of your demise there will be enough to do a real number on your face? (And by number, I mean eating it off, not "Number 2.")

I choose the latter. Why?? Because it makes the best story. If I have to die old and alone, I plan on getting A LOT of attention for it! I might even write my autobiography before the dogs eat my face off, so upon my demise it can be immediately published, and I can look down from heaven and be satisfied with how sorry everyone feels for me.

And now I have to go throw a pity party for myself. No, you're not invited.

Is anything more vulgar?

2007-04-25T16:39:00.000-07:00

Really. The Pussycat Dolls make me a little sick to my stomach, but I found myself glued to the tele last night whilst the finale of that ridiculous show they have in which they select another skankified skinny-mini to their already large group. I'm not really sure why they feel like they needed another one, because no one really knows who any of them are, and I think I can say with confidence, we're all pretty annoyed at this point.

And while the bad singing and the fighting and the slutty outfits were simultaneously entertaining and irritating, the most compelling thing of all was Lil' Kim. Have you seen her lately???? She looks awful! She's had so much plastic surgery she's morphed into something grotesque and inhuman...or should I say unhuman...

I suggest you all do a quick google search of Lil' Kim to see how something that was already pretty vulgar and disgusting can transform into something vulgar, disgusting, and plastic...or and chunky. She's gotten chunky. What fun!!

Take a look!! You won't be sorry. (Although, she still probably has less cellulite than me. I hate celebrities.)

Explanation

2007-04-22T18:02:00.000-07:00

So a few people have been wondering what the heck I was doing hacking down a bunch of bamboo in a rain storm. And, really, it's a valid question. But first, I wanted to share a-dub's comment from the last post, because it's genius:

"Queen, I love the image of you hacking down bamboo in a violent rain storm in hott galoshes. If this were a perfect world, you would have developed a fever and swooned, and a gallant and ruggedly handsome young man (a complete blackguard, of course) would have thundered up on a stallion to sweep you to safety. Sigh. You would have eventually come to a bad end, though (worse than death, stillborn bastard child, living out the rest of your days in a remote Italian convent, yadda, yadda, yadda). So it's probably just as well."

First, let me say, a-dub, you're perfect. Next, you're right, a-dub, it's probably just as well. There was, however, a very dedicated runner who came by and said, "Are you building a booby trap?" He was kind of handsome, but certainly not a blackguard.

Anywho, enough with the silliness! Why was I out in a typhoon cutting down bamboo?? Well, for an art project, of course. There's this place off the running trail close to my apartment, that has some bamboo growing. It's probably about a mile and a half from my house. Since it had been drizzling all day, I figured that there wouldn't be many people on the running trail, and it would be easier to carry my hacksaw around without arousing too much suspicion. I should mention here that I live right beside the professional basketball/hockey arena and there was a game Tuesday night. That meant there was also a lot of law enforcement. So, while many of you would probably like to imagine that I carried a hacksaw around whilst wearing an anorak and hott rain boots, I actually put the hacksaw in a big bag so as to not look like a crazy serial killer. The walk back caused a few stares, though. I mean, if you saw a girl with a giant bag on her shoulder and a bunch of bamboo in her hands in the middle of the Typhoon of '07, what would you think?? I wouldn't think she was doing anything legal, that's for sure.

So, there it is, that's why I couldn't elaborate on all the other crap that's been going on in my life.

And really, there's not a lot of crap, because I've gotten rid of all it, namely SOAPM. He is such an idiot. For reals. I don't even think that he knows that we're not dating anymore. Every once and a while I'll get a text message or a phone call from him that leads a girl to believe he has no idea he's been dumped. How could he not know?!! The last time I actually saw him was in March, and I wasn't very nice to him! Oh well, he's not really bugging me that much, so maybe I shouldn't complain. He did buy me a really nice dinner the last time I saw him, though, although it hardly made up for the white socks with dress shoes. Hardly!!

I haven't actually been out on a date in almost a month. My mom's gonna start thinking I'm a lesbian. I've thought of getting a butch "roommate" just to make everyone extra suspicious, but it hardly seems worth the trouble. However, if the "roommate" bought me lots of nice presents, it might be worth it....hmmm....maybe I'll look into that. In the meantime, if any of you know of a man that likes to give a girl lots of (expensive) presents while simultaneously being verbally abused, please give me his number. A guy like that is hard to find, but fit for a Queen, specifically the Queen: Queen, III.

Don't forget it.

Paving the Road to Hell

2007-04-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

I had every intention of writing a long treatise este noche about how I hate men, what they do to piss me off, how I'm better than practically everybody (except for all of you who read this blog, of course), and how generally cranky I am about not being able to control the universe, etc., etc.

However, I had a very remarkable and drawn out incident involving a pair of painfully cute rubber boots, a hack saw, a deserted running trail, a torrent of rain, and bamboo.

Suffice it to say that I don't have enough time at this point to tell you in detail the very latest drama (real or imagined) in my life.

I do have time to quickly tell you a short, but painful story: I let SOAPM go to church with me a couple of weeks ago and....

*sigh*

this is so hard....

he wore...I don't even know how to say this...

he wore....

WHITE SOCKS WITH DRESS SHOES! *clunk* (sound of my head hitting the keyboard in exasperation)

It's all enough to make a girl want to run and throw her beautiful, voluptuous form into the nearest body of water.

Instead, I chose to donne my cute rubber boots and carry a hacksaw through a rainstorm. Probably a healthier choice, however bizarre.

So, please don't stop giving me attention just because I've been neglectful. Please! I need your attention more than the very breath of life!

No, I'm serious.

Hot Yoga Just Got a Little Hotter

2007-04-16T20:05:00.000-07:00

Guys, I suck. But listen, this time I have a good reason: I've started Hot Yoga. You know, the yoga you do in a room that's 100 degress Farenheit and 60% humidity that lasts for an hour and a half? Well, I'm doing it.

Here's the thing though...after I finish the Hot Yoga, I am sleepier than a drunken baby, so blogging is damn near impossible.

But, mark my words: tomorrow I will update with a whole new slew of complaints about SOAPM, and crappy men in general.

Your loving, perpetually cranky spinster,
Queen, III

Out of the Wilderness

2007-04-09T19:19:00.000-07:00

So, to try and make my unholy, sinful, delightfully wicked self a little more spiritually inclined, I decided that this year, I would give up something for lent that really, truly mattered to me more than almost anything else in the whole wide world. The one thing, that, if I had to spend a day without, I would feel lost and lonely, thus forcing me to face the "spiritual mirror," so to speak. And that one, singular thing was TV.

Yes! For 40 days and 40 nights, I did not watch TV (unless it was in a public place). It was a long, cold, dark road...one which was trying. I'm not sure I can ever go through it again. I'm not even sure how I made it, but I did.

Now, I'm trying to catch up on all that's happened in the past month and a half. So, for reals, what's going on with Horatio and the hot Latin girls?? They can't really think that he's hot, can he? Why are they always calling him for help?? Why?? Why don't they call that other really hot guy?? That's who I would call if I had an emergency!

But, I have a few additional queries. I have NO idea what's happening on any of my usual shows. If you can fill me in as I ease back into my TV watching routine, I'd appreciate it! Here are my usual shows:
Boston Legal
Ugly Betty
Desperate Housewives
The Office
30 Rock

Thanks, guys. And remember, you're not just helping Queen, III, you're helping the new, improved, slightly holier Queen, III.

Sinful

2007-04-04T17:32:00.000-07:00

I just ate an entire medium pizza.

BUT - It was thin crust...from Dominos. Sooo...it can't be that bad can it?

Oh jebus, I can feel my @ss getting larger by the second.

School Teachers: Modern-day Saints or Classic Fools??

2007-04-02T16:41:00.000-07:00

There are great perks to my job: I get the summers off; I don't have to work weekends; I don't have to take work home; I get 2 weeks off for Christmas, a Fall break, a Spring break, Easter break, and various other days as well; during the school year, I get 10 days paid leave, 5 of which carry over (next year I'll have 15); I get pretty good benefits; and I really only work about 8.5 - 9 months out of the year. Pretty sweet deal, you might say. And generally, it is...but there are days....

Last year, I made the horrible mistake of letting all my students - all 650 of them - paint the same week. It was one of the biggest missteps of my entire life. And while I haven't made a mistake that huge this year, every once in a while, I'll have a moment where it all seems to just go to hell.

Last week was that moment. Now the whole week was bad, but the day that really, really set me off was Wednesday. I have my two "challenging" classes that day: 5D and KD. 5D started out unusually well, which should have made me raise an eyebrow, but I thought, "Maybe these kids have really reached a turning point."

Oh, Queen. You really are a fool.

Within the last 10 minutes of class these kids started acting like they were all retarded. Now, normally, it wouldn't be so bad. Okay, so you have a class of 5th graders who have a bad day and think for some reason that it's permissible to hang over your seat like you have no muscle control or jump out of your seat and start yelling at the girl across the class who blinked at you wrong or stick your own pencil up your nose or roll your eyes at the teacher. No big deal, right? It happens. They're children.

But these aren't just your ordinary children, oh no! They're gifted children who attend our Vanguard school on the 3rd floor.

About 5 minutes into their remarkable behavior, I really, really lose it. My mouth starts to move and it is like a freight train! Fortunately, I can't remember all the things I said/yelled, but I do remember using words like pathetic, sad excuse for, disappointed, will no longer be having fun in art, disgusting, rude awakening, and the like. They kept their mouths shut on the way out, probably because they were scared I was gonna pull out a shiv.

Then, 4th grade rolls around. Ay Carumba! Little Jeremy is scheduled to return to school today from the alternative school he had been attending for a couple of months. The kid's crazy and so's his daddy. Jeremy comes into my classroom and sits down well enough, but suddenly leaves class without permission. I go find him in the hallway and he refuses to come in. Finally, I convince him to come back inside, but on his way back in, he tries to knock a bunch of art off the art rack. I say, "Salvador, escort Jeremy to the office."

"I'm not goin'," Jeremy replies.

"You'll go know, or I'll send for the Assistant Principal to come and get you and that won't be pretty." He then complies. 2 seconds later, Salvador comes running back in:

"Miss Queen, Jeremy won't stop running around in circles outside!! I tried to catch him, but I couldn't!"

I step outside. "Jeremy, come in right now. Salvador will go get the Principal to come get you." With this, Jeremy decides to slowly walk to the office.

After class, I go to the office to write the referral and Jeremy is, of course, acting crazy, talkin' back to the secretary, so I say, "Jeremy this is no way to start your first day back. I know you know better!"

Jeremy mumbles with a scowl on his face, "Shut up with your big bushy head!"

(Now, my hair is pretty big, but Jeremy shouldn't have gone there.) I said, "Say that again to my face, Jeremy."

"I ain't scared of you!!!"

Well, this got me all kinds of bent out of shape, so before I knocked that little brat upside the head, I thought that I would instead go eat my lunch and write the referral away from the devil-child who was pushing all my buttons. I turn to leave and Jeremy gets up and blocks the doorway. About this time, the Assistant Principal walks up and nearly loses it when she sees Jeremy, freshly out of alternative school, acting as though his two months in kiddie lock-down taught him nothing. He got suspended for 3 days.

Then, after lunch there was KD - the Kindergarten class from hell. Hsunta had a breakdown and tried to beat up Ruby who wouldn't stop crossing her eyes at Hsunta. Jeremiah also had a breakdown and refused to come out of the corner. Arthur was crying and so was Annienell, both apparently for no reason. Reynoldo decided that it would be funny if he just yelled out, "No!" every time I asked him to do something. And Ernest was, as always, incredibly earnest. There was one point in this class where I thought they would actually take me over, and honestly, defeat was nearer than I would like to admit, but somehow I triumphed and we were able to paint some post-modernist masterpieces.

After school, at rehearsal for our end-of-the-year play, I left the auditorium to run to the office. When I came back, a fellow teacher told me that the kids were acting all kinds of crazy. So, I yelled at them and told them how disappointed I was, etc. And two 5th graders started crying. One almost hyperventilated.

Now, if all that won't drive you to drinking, I don't know what will. So, this summer, when I write about how I'm lying around in my underwear, watching TV and you all are like, "Queen, I hate you with all your time off (and your big bushy head)!!!" Remember this post. Remember. My time off is not for me, it is for the children. Because if I had to spend 12 months of the year with those kids, they'd probably all have to be hospitalized...for severe bruising upside the head.

Dear BFF: What about me??!

2007-03-23T15:25:00.000-07:00

My BFF is the best BFF in the whole wide world. She understands everything that comes out of my mouth before I say it - and I know everyone says that about their BFF, but if you heard some of the things that come out of my mouth, you would understand how extrodinary it really is. And she listens to me complain...sometimes for hours on end. (Literally.) And she's the reason I finally broke it off with Latest Ex-boyfriend. And she sticks up for me, even to my formidible mother. (Not an easy thing to do.) And she's so funny, sometimes I can't even stand it!

And she's pregnant.

Now, whilst she may not appreciate me broadcasting this to the whole wide world, I'm pretty sure she's figured I'd broadcast it here eventually. So why not sooner than later, eh?

But to the point: today, for whatever reason, it really hit me. "Oh my greek goddess. BFF is pregnant." It was then I realized that soon, very soon, our ridiculously long phone conversations probably won't be as frequent, and our hours of communal TV watching will probably have to be put on hold, and while she's worried about boiling nipples (not hers) and getting a full night's sleep, I'll be worrying about whether or not my shoes from last year could pass for this season's and how many times I should go out with some guy before I dump him (or say I'm gonna dump him and then wimp out). HOLY CRAP! SHE'S HAVING A BABY!!

I'm totally having oldest child syndrome all over again!!! I'm having flashbacks to 1984. How can BFF take care of me when she's having another human who actually has a good excuse to be a helpless heap of bone and flesh???!!

Now, I realize that these fears are probably completely irrational, but the last time I can remember having any sort of rational thought was in 1983. Right before that little creep who stole my spotlight was born, known affectionately to my parents as "Son."

Dearst BFF, once you have your tiny bundle of joy, (that I plan on totally corrupting once he/she reaches 1.5 years of age) please promise me that you won't forget my co-dependency on you. Please? Please?!! As long as I have that reassurance, I think I'll be able to handle not being your only child anymore.
All my neurotic, needy love,
Queen, III

FOILED!

2007-03-19T16:29:00.000-07:00

I wanted nothing more than to come back to this great state of Texas and tell you all that my plans for SOAPM went off without a hitch, that SOAPM was defeated by my mischief and made to throw in the towel, so to speak...I honestly wanted nothing more....

You see, it all started off splendidly. SOAPM committed a series of bone-headed blunders that were sure to give him a front-row seat to "The Heel of My Hott Boots Show." (It's actually a pretty great show, as long as you're not on the receiving end of my heel.)

Firstly, he didn't discover that his debit card didn't work until we were at the airport, about to leave. Additionally, he didn't have any cash - nor any other credit cards on which he could fall back. He had to call his daddy to wire him some bread. I was so freakin' irritated, I almost fainted. Deep down, however, I was simply delighted because I knew that as long as he kept the bonehead act up, treating him like dirt for the entire trip wouldn't be that hard.

Secondly, he kept saying the most excruciatingly idiotic things, typically followed with an, "I know." For example, on the day we made the long trip to creepy, crappy Coney Island (which really isn't an island), we had an unfortunate mishap involving a lack of bathrooms and a grocery store run by the Russian mafia. After said mishap, SOAPM make this excruciatingly idiotic statement:
"This place has A LOT of money. Yeah. Those Russians always have money."

I'm serious.

Well, I just couldn't take it anymore and I flipped out and was like, "SOAPM, shut up!!! You have no idea!! Look around at this shit-hole!!!! There's no money here! You're crazy!!!"

"No," he said. "I have a lot of friends who are Russian. I know."

"WHAT?!!! YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE ANY FRIENDS!!! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!!! WE ENCOUNTER, LIKE, 2 RUSSIANS, AND SUDDENLY YOU KNOW ALL ABOUT THE FISCAL HEALTH OF CONEY ISLAND!!!!!!!! WE'VE BEEN HERE EXACTLY FIVE SECONDS!!!! THERE'S NO WAY YOU COULD POSSIBLY KNOW ANYTHING!!!"

Well, that sparked a pretty big argument, in which I hurled many insults until he finally admitted he was as dumb as a stump....No! Only kidding. He'd never admit to that. He did, however, admit that he had very little knowledge of the exact fiscal status of Coney Island, although I couldn't get him to admit that he doesn't know any Russians.

And this was just one of the many, many, many ridiculous statements SOAPM made. Most of them, I ignored because I didn't have the energy to argue. Because, as you can see from the above argument, they really drained me.

Now, keep in mind that during the first part of the week, there were many, many things that SOAPM did that were irritating, frustrating, and downright stupid (like talking to his ex-girlfriend on the phone), but I'm just giving you the highlights, because if I told you everything, you'd all want to impale yourselves.

Thirdly, and OH! this is the big one, SOAPM made a HUGE....and I mean HUGE ...scene in the subway one night. It all started over a little squabble over directions. He was acting like a jack-ass, so I was really letting him have it. Well, I guess he had enough, because, man did he explode! He started yelling at me, and loudly, too. He was so loud, in fact, that I was beginning to be embarrassed. ME!! Embarrassed!!! It takes quite a lot to embarrass me. Just ask my BFF. So, I started to say very quietly, "SOAPM, stop, please, you're embarrassing me." But, he wouldn't stop!! He just kept getting louder and louder and meaner. We walk down into the subway and he still is kind of yelling, and then bam! he loses it. He yells so loudly, that everyone in the New York subway turned their heads suddenly to look at the stupid skank who was about to get beaten by her pimp. I'm blindsided. I say, "I'm not going to let you talk to me like this, I'll just go ride another subway." And I turned on my heels and walked out of the subway as ALL the New Yorkers stared at me. It was so quiet, you could hear my every step on the way out. Usually, I love it when everyone's eyes are on me. But, not that night. Oh, no. It was just like a scene out of a Lifetime movie. I felt like such a victim.

But, SOAPM didn't stop there. He followed me out on to the street, and proceeded to argue even more with me!! I don't even really remember what the argument was about. I just remember thinking that I wanted to get away. Finally, after he had exhausted his wind pipes, I suggested that we just meet back up at the hotel. I'd take a different subway and meet him there, to give us both time to cool off.

So, there I am, in New York City, walking by myself at 1am to the subway. I felt very sorry for myself. Fortunately, I looked really cute that night, so it was a sort of self-righteous melancholy, which is the best kind.

Now, this HAD to be the end for SOAPM! There was no way in the world he could recover from this tragic mishap!! I was so very content.

The next day, SOAPM got the silent treatment. His career as one of the many men who get to take me out was OVER! Job well done, me.

...but then...

*heavy sigh*

he bought me some liquor.

He started talking...and I started talking....and he started pleading....and I was weak from all the walking and the alcohol....and he started saying that he would do things differently and please, please, please and he's so sorry and he started to feel distance between us before the trip and he just didn't know what to do....

I let loose and told him everything that he had ever done to irritate me and how it just couldn't work unless such and such changed and how I thought he was totally not ready to date, blah, blah, blah....I pulled out all the tricks to try and convince him he didn't want to date me, I swear! I was unreasonable, a prima donna, insulting, and bitchy! I thought he had conceded. And I was about to be as free as a bird!

...but then...

*heavy sigh*

He started to take my suggestions. No more phone calls from his ex-girlfriend. No more excruciatingly idiotic statements, no more fights over directions...and he started to focus on me quite a bit. And I started to get a little confused. But, no, Queen!! Stay focused! SOAPM is curb material! Don't be deterred! Focus!

And then one day toward the end of the week, cold, frigid air started to blow in and I developed a consumptive cough, and SOAPM took care of me! Without complaining. Okay...but no biggie....so what, right?...this is just an act....ignore it, Queen, because it isn't real!

But, maybe he's been such a jerk because I've been such a jerk! (Clearly, he slipped something into my cough syrup.)

So, I didn’t make the lesbians touch him. And I wasn’t mean to him 100% of the time. I even went to go see Phantom of the Opera because he wanted to.

I wish I could say I was stronger. I wish I could report that for the entirety of my time with him, I was an absolute Queen Bitch, but alas! I would be a fibber if I did so.

The good news is that during the layover on the way back, he took a call from his ex-girlfriend. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble putting on my hott boots and kicking him to the proverbial curb. Amen.

2007-03-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

What about now??

2007-03-10T14:31:00.000-08:00

What about now??

2007-03-08T20:57:00.000-08:00

SOAPM moves foward toward his ill fate

2007-03-08T16:02:00.000-08:00

In addition to being on my ever-loving nerves, SOAPM and I still have to go to New York together.

Last night my mom begged me to not be mean to the boy, to not exclude him from the activities Forky and I were planning, and to not make him feel like "the third wheel," so to speak.

"Well, Mom, if he feels left out, he can just go call his ex-girlfriend."

He picked his fate, not I!!! NOT I, Mother!!

Ahh, SOAPM: a lamb to the slaughter.

exit SOAPM

2007-03-06T18:58:00.000-08:00

*sigh* Well, I've learned my lesson with SOAPM. It's sad and just a little bit tragic, but you know, honestly, I was left without a choice. What is so astonishing to me is that someone as desperately nerdy as he would have to audacity to treat me ill in any manner. Oh, it's true that he certainly never beat me nor was he a drug dealer or a pimp, but he was irritating and sometimes a little bit of a liar. I kept telling myself, "But Queen, he's supposed to be a good guy. Maybe you're just overreacting." And, honestly, I overreact so much that if in fact I was overreacting, it would come as no surprise. However, I have spent almost 5 long months analyzing the situation, and I've come to the conclusion, that I'm really, truly not overreacting.

I know! I'm just as surprised as anybody!

Last Sunday, SOAPM was supposed to come over. He didn't show up and didn't call until it was clearly too late for him to show up. When he finally did call, I said, "You know you were supposed to come over, right? But nevermind. Please DON'T. click."

Monday, after thinking about it, I thought, you know, maybe I was overreacting and he really did forget. So, I made nice.

Thursday comes around and we have a date planned. He wants to take me to the driving range (romantic, no?) for our date and then to dinner or whatever. It's raining, so he gets the bright idea to take me to a bowling alley.

I. Don't. Do. Bowling alleys. EVER.

So, we go to the museum instead.

He tells me as he's leaving, "I'll come by tomorrow after school."

After school comes around and he doesn't show up. When he calls me he acts as if he never made a date with me.

Now, I may be a lot of things, but retarded isn't one of them. So, SOAPM, just don't. I'm done. Whatever kind of silly little games your playing, I'm finished. I gave it that ol' college try and it just didn't work out.

And it doesn't help that SOAPM lives with his parents (and apparently likes it), goes to crazy speaking-in-tongues church, has horrible phone etiquette, has questionable personal hygiene, and is excruciatingly boring most of the time.

Here's a clip from a recent conversation:

"So, my dad's cousin on his mom's side - she works from 6:45 - 7:00 in the morning - she slept in her car last night and she came to church and then after church, she came by the house and we talked for a little while, so that was cool."

"uh. huh."

"Yeah, and so she is, like, pretty cool, and she's my dad's cousin actually, and well, she used to be a pastor, I think in, like, Chicago or something and so we talked today just about stuff..."

People, I'm am so, so serious. And this is how most of our conversations go!!! I'm not sure how I tolerated it this long. I'm not sure how SOAPM even survived this long!

So, as much as it fills me with glee to say it, you forced me to it: So long, SOAPM, it wasn't even that fun while it lasted.

Dear SOAPM: You've forced me to it.

2007-03-05T16:50:00.000-08:00

SOAPM, I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. But, my hands are tied! You've forced me to this mischievous nonsense.

Remember weekend before last when we were on a double date at the movies and you left in the middle of the movie to talk on your cell phone for a good 30 minutes? And remember this past Friday when we went to your sister's horrid Showtune Choir concert (and I had to listen to a pasty white girl butcher Roberta Flack's "Killing Me Softly") and in the middle of horrid concert, you once again took a call on your cell phone and were gone for well over 10 minutes? Remember?? And remember how both times, the "person," whose "urgent" calls you were taking, turned out to be your ex-girlfriend??

*sigh*

Well, SOAPM there are consequences for your incredulous actions. So, when we go to Noo Yuck, to see my bestie, Forky in his off-off Broadway show, I'm going to fail to mention (inadvertently, of course) that there's lots of naked boobies and lesbian soft-porn scenes within said show.

And, while this will probably hurt your conservative disposition, make you terribly uncomfortable, and possibly a little sick, I'm not going to feel bad for you. In fact, I'll probably be squealing with delight inside my very attractive little body (that you won't ever get to touch again). It may seem horribly cruel to do this to you, especially since you claim that you "haven't done anything wrong," but contrariwise, my mischief is mercifully just!

It's really too bad that you couldn't get it right, SOAPM. But, you leave me with no choice! I have to be mean to you now. I wonder what you thought was going to happen when you STARTED TAKING PHONE CALLS FROM YOUR EX-GIRLFRIEND WHEN YOU WERE WITH ME!!!!
You must have thought I was born yesterday. You also must have thought that I wasn't vengeful.

See? Even a math teacher can miscalculate.

Did I mention that the naked lesbians are going to touch you, too?

THE WORST DAY EVAR!

2007-02-27T18:28:00.000-08:00

I can't blog at work anymore. They took it away. Again.

This has to be considered employee torture. You can't just let me do something, then not let me do it, then let me do it AGAIN, and then TAKE IT ALL AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!!!!!!! It's clearly going to send me over the edge. How dare you Everycity Independent School District!! How DARE you! I'm going to have to take some Zoloft to balance me out after this bad rollercoaster ride!

So, despite this recent tragedy, I have more news:

SOAPM and I are no longer dating exclusively. It was totally my move. It turns out that that the only man who could ever bore me was the son of a preacher man. Being such a "good guy" is, in reality, incredibly boring. So, I broke off the exclusivity of it before I died from boredomitis (a very real and tragic disease).

You see, according to him, "exclusive" means that he's not dating anyone else and he spends relatively little time with me.

Hmm.

To sum it up: attention whore + guy who doesn't give much attentions = DISASTER.

So, I had to do something. Because he was just not giving me the attention that I need...and I need A LOT of attention. So, I thought it would be better for him in the end if I spred my attention requirements around a little. Kind of like delegating....

Anywho, I feel a lot better! Because, for a second there, I thought I was the one who was boring and it was resulting in a lot of confusion and uncomfortable questioning.

But, what you need to all know is I'M BACK! No more commitment for me!!! No more wise choices, either!!! Fun, foolish, kiss-happy Queen is back!!!

Did you miss me???

The Truth

2007-02-16T10:47:00.000-08:00

My BFF told me that my posts were markedly shorter than usual. This is probably because not a lot is going on...at least of interest. I've been watching a lot of TV and spending much time with my dog. And the truth is that I'm a little bit ashamed of the lack of drama in my life. I feel like my isn't interesting at all! I feel like I'm letting everyone I know and love down by not having continuous grand misadventures. And honestly, I almost don't know how to function without them!

Isn't life so much more fun when you're doing something just a little bit foolish??? Isn't it??

Also, because of my lack of misadventure, I'm starting to get a little bored. And when I get bored, foolishness is usually not far behind. I just pray that I'll have some good ideas for a clever misadventure before I die of boredom!

And because I'm dating SOAPM "exclusively" that leaves the make-out bandit locked up and really puts a limit on what I usually do when I'm bored. I guess I could break it off with SOAPM. (I might be a little sad about that after a week or so...since you know...he does bring me flowers sometimes.) I could drink myself into oblivion or go swimming in the hot tub with nothing on.

I could rekindle my love affair with T.O. I heard he fired his publicist.

Or I could start committing small misdemeanors! Even better! I'll be a petty theif! Yes!! That's it! I'll begin a life of crime! I can be like Moll Flanders!!! But without all the kids and the whoring. I'll learn how to steal watches and wallets. Wait!!! Even better!! A JEWEL THIEF!!! Or a cat burglar!!! I could wear my old ballet leotard! And slippers! I'd be the best jewel thief/cat burglar evar!!!

Okay, guys. I've got to get going! I've got a LOT of work to do. Becoming a jewel thief/ cat burglar is gonna take time and effort. And possibly a new outfit or two. Or five.

Update

2007-02-15T07:53:00.000-08:00

Please refer to this post to find out what has happened with me and SOAPM:

http://queen3.blogspot.com/2006/05/to-forky-im-tired-of-repeating-myself.html

I should mention here that Monday I ordered myself flowers to help SOAPM see he wasn't the only one who was after me. My plan was to not mention that the flowers were from myself. HOWEVER, Tuesday night he showed up on my doorstep with a dozen, long-stemmed, red roses.

I might have overreacted.

What I Get for Thinking

2007-02-12T11:03:00.000-08:00

I was thinking yesterday and I decided that I'm fabulous. Not just a little fabulous or kind of fabulous, but really, REALLY fabulous. While musing, I was reminded of one of those stupid questions you hear on a talk show: "Would you date yourself?" There was a time when I would have said no. But that was long ago. When I thought of the question this time, I thought, "Heck yes I would!" Then, I really started to think about it....man! I'm awesome! I'm fun, funny, clever, hott, talented, self-sufficient, entertaining...the list just goes on and on. I would LOVE to date me! In fact, maybe I should date me. Maybe I should just cleanse myself of all inferior dating attachments and have a man-fast until I find one worthy of my attention. One who is equally as wonderful as ME.

I'm sure you're all able to discern where this is heading.

A malaise began to set in. I started to feel extremely dissatisfied and frustrated. I began to analyze my dating relationship with SOAPM. Was it worth it? The whole living-with-the-parents thing is pretty irritating and I don't think that he's getting me anything for Valentine's Day...is it worth it? Is it? Crap.

This is what I get for thinking.

So, I let those feelings of dissatisfaction fester all day. Then, I ended the day by having another stern "talking-to" with SOAPM. The result was not happy. Way to go, Queen.

In addition to being fabulous, I'm also destructive. I think I've established my spinsterhood well enough. Congratulations to me.

Knocking on Death's Door

2007-02-09T12:42:00.000-08:00

Tuesday I woke up and thought I was having a severe allergy attack. 12 hours later I was pretty sure that I was almost dead. My fever was rising by the minute, my body ached, I didn't even want to eat! I woke up the day next and felt even worse. It was horrible. I managed to find the strength to drive to my internist's office. He told me I had bronchitis.
"Bronchitis?! How did I get bronchitis?!"

"It's just an infection of the blah blah blah."

"But, only white trash get bronchitis!!"

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"Touche, Doctor. Touche."

I Gave Him What-for!

2007-02-05T11:05:00.000-08:00

I just couldn't take it anymore. I just couldn't. So, I had to do something. Had to!!

I gave SOAPM a stern talking-to. He's making me a neurotic mess with the whole living-in-his-parents'-house thing. And to his defense, he hasn't been living in his parents' house forever or anything like that...he just moved back in this summer...he had been working in the Valley (if you're not from Texas, you probably don't know what the "Valley" is...when you hear that term used by Texans, just think, "Mexico." Becasuse that's what it is, basically). But see, that's not the point!

Point is, all this having to worry about his parents is reminding me of a time that I'd really like to forget: the time when I lived with my parents. The first 17 years of living with my parents really wasn't that bad....but the year before I went to college and the subsequent summers were HELL! I don't want to be reminded of that dark, desperate time. Who would?

So, last night, I really let him have it! I didn't hold back. I told him either he mans up or I'm out.

How's that for tough love? Man, am I awsome.

I am woman, hear me complain.

Mantra

2007-02-01T09:04:00.000-08:00

I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic.

But, see, even with this mantra that I've been chanting incessently, I'm still a little bit neurotic...and here's why:

SOAPM lives with his parents. His conservative, religious parents. Now, you might be thinking, "But, Queen, your dad's a preacher too, so you should understand!"

At first glance, one might think so, but the truth is, in comparison to SOAPM's family, my family is a band of wild liberals, throwing conventional wisdom to the wind, interpreting the scriptures with a devil-may-care attitute, letting their children run wild through the night, allowing their daughter to wear two-piece bathing suits and flaunt her cleavage, granting permission to their offspring to make their own decisions no matter how foolish and crazy.

SOAPM's family is CONSERVATIVE and sometimes a bit overbearing. And he lives with them. That means they're keeping tabs on when he comes home, when he leaves, who he's with and why. While his family doesn't know for certain my family is a band of wild liberals, I live in daily fear of them discovering.

What happens when his parents find out that my mom is a raging feminist, who thinks all the pronouns that reference God in the bible should be changed to "She"? And what happens when his parents find out that my dad believes in evolution and in science? And what happens when his parents find out that I agree with my parents? And what happens when his parents find out that I've seen their son scantilly clad? OH MY GOODNESS!!!! I'm starting to sweat just thinking about it.

(I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic.)

I'm not sure how much longer I can handle the living-in-parents'-house situation! I don't like the parents of the boys I'm dating to know what I'm up to! I don't like it one bit!! There've been some nights when I've kept SOAPM out until, like, 5 am!!! They had to know we weren't just talking!!!!!

I'm sweating.

(I will not be neurotic. I will not be neurotic. I WILL NOT BE NEUROTIC.)

SOAPM claims he's saving money to buy a house, but he has no contracts pending, no real-estate agent. WHEN WILL THIS MADNESS END???!!! If it it truly is temporary, then I can handle it. But....what if it's not????

You all know what that means.

He gets kicked to the curb....with my brand new, super-hott boots.

SOAPM, if you can hear me: don't make me kick you with my super-hott boots. (Although, they are VERY nice to look at.) Move out. Get your own place. I promise I won't ask for a key - only that you keep the bathroom clean.

HOLY COW I CAN BLOG AT WORK!!!!!! THIS IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVAR!!!!!

2007-01-30T10:36:00.000-08:00

I don't know why and I don't how, but I can sign in to blogger now. Oh, yes! Hallelu! I don't even know what to say now because I'm so freaking happy. so. freaking. happy.

Okay, so how 'bout we spend some time catching up.

Yesterday was my birthday. I'm just a day over 19 or 21 or something like that. I'm so young, but so wise.

SOAPM and I are doing pretty well. We don't see each other that much because we're so busy. But, let's face it, it's probably saving our relationship. But please note: SOAPM is NOT my boyfriend. Yes, we're dating exclusively, but he is NOT my boyfriend, as such. Turns out I have a bit of a commitment phobia since Latest Ex-boyfriend turned out to be such a scoundrel. Thus, SOAPM is not my boyfriend.

Glad we got that out of the way.

On to other things:

My parents have completely lost their minds. My dad just resigned from the church he was preaching at and my mom sent me a box full of seven very strange gifts for my birthday. (example: Saturday was a singular pair of socks) At the top of the box, was an explaination of how I was to open the presents. There was one present for every day of "Kristenmas," she explained and went on to explain exactly what "Kristenmas" was. Now, keep in mind, that my mom is not clinically insane, but her explaination of "Kristenmas" was so detailed and so elaborate that I began to think that this work could only be the work of a madwoman. In venacular terms, "She crazy." Now, for those of you who don't know, my given name is included in the word, "Krsitenmas," but I'm not going tell you which part....you know....for security reasons. However, if you can't figure it out on your own, you're pretty stupid.

I'll be posting the entire explaination of Kristenmas before too long. Promise.

And finally, for my birthday, I bought myself some of the hottest boots this world has ever seen! These boots are so hot, I could dress myself in paper towels and as long as I had these boots on, I'd be smokin'! My life is now complete and I want for nothing. ...well....except for that Tiffany's bracelet....and those diamond earrings....and that other pair of shoes I saw in the mall last night...

Let's all hope that this workday posting will continue now until forever!!! What joy!!! I'm finally freed from the prison that is behaving in an ethical way at work!!!! Praise jebus.

Donde esta la Queen??

2007-01-29T15:39:00.000-08:00

Sorry guys. I suck. Since I can't blog at work anymore, I sometimes lose the will to blog after having to deal with 5 year-olds. So, sorry. I have lots to say, too. But we're throwing all that to the wind today because:

Today's my Birthday!!!!

I'm 17. Or somewhere around there.

And my bestie, Forky, has written a HI-larious (although somewhat embarrassing) blog in honor of this sacred occasion. So, head on over to the 42 floor and let's all focus on ME!!!!

Holier Than Thou

2007-01-22T19:00:00.000-08:00

That's right. I'm so much better than you, I basically have a ticket to heaven in my pocket right now.

"But how?" You may be wondering.

Well, you see, yesterday (Sunday) I went to my church. (It's kind of a liberal church.) I went to Sunday School for an hour (10 - 11), then Big Church, as it were, from 10 - 11:45. I didn't stay for the very end because at 11:45 I headed over to SOAPM's dad's church. I got there at 12:15pm. And this time I didn't sweat. (Probably a good sign.)

HOWEVER - church didn't end until 2 pm!!!!! Holy. Mother. Of perpetual sorrow.

Now, there weren't any snakes or anything like that, but let's just say, if any of these people decide to fill their bodies with any other spirit besides the Holy One, they'll be a BARRELL of monkeys! I think I'll try and spike the communion grape juice next time I'm there. Oh, man! That's gonna be some party!

So, in all, I spent about 4 continuous hours in church. Which means I'm pretty freakin' holy. I won't even talk about the interfaith Shabatt I went to Friday! But, if we count that, I spent about 6 hours of my weekend in holy places. I think this might elevate me to Sainthood. Somebody call the Vatican. I'm not Catholic - but I think they'll overlook it because I'm exceptionally holy. EXCEPTIONALLY!

Needless to say, SOAPM's dad's church isn't exactly my style, however, I'm not too worried about it. As long as they don't bring out the snakes, I think I'll be okay. Nuthin' better than that ol' time religion, right?

Winter Blues

2007-01-16T16:35:00.000-08:00

It's so freakin' cold here, I kind of want to die. One of the main reasons I still live in Texas is we have Winters that are scoffed at by our Northern neighbors. When I was a wee lassie in South Texas, we didn't even have a winter! It'd get cold once or twice during the Winter months, but the rest of the time, it'd be about 60 degrees. So this North Texas weather is tough for me, but generally it's not too bad. But this Winter....this Winter...has been horrible. It started in November, and while it occasionally lets up, most of the time it's just horrid. And if anyone thinks I'm exaggerating, well...screw you!! Because, the thing of it is, I'm wallowing in self-pity and right now, I don't want to see the bright side, so don't point it out. Thanks.

Anywho - I just can't stand it. I think maybe I'll look into moving to Jamaica. This weather even depresses Taraji. All we want to do is lie around in our PJs and hope the cold, dark winter passes before too long.

In other news, SOAPM and I have booked OUR plane tickets for OUR spring break vacation...TOGETHER. Scary? A little. But, in the words of Bridget Jones, "This can't be just shagging. A mini-break means true love."

Damn you blogger!!!

2007-01-14T21:01:00.000-08:00

You accidently erased my clever, clever entry. I hate you.

Score.

2007-01-11T18:28:00.000-08:00

Man, I'm lucky. Remember how I was so worried about having to grow a pair and tell all the other guys I was dating before SOAPM that SOAPM and I are now dating exclusively? Remember how I didn't want to be the bearer of bad news and how I was hoping against hope that things would just work themselves out?? Remember??

Well, go me, because I was right to be yellow-bellied and to hold on to hope! They've all just sort of disappeared and I didn't even have to do anything! I rock. I knew I was right to just sit around and wait for the universe to show me a sign...uh...fix everything.

And SOAPM and I are moving in a slow, fowardly direction. So, we're good. And I even went to his dad's church again and sweated very little.

However, as it turns out, his ex-girlfriend also goes to his dad's church...and she's crazy.

Not kind of crazy, or even a little kooky, but unstable. "Please don't leave me or I'll kill myself" unstable. And....she was at church the last time I was there. Oh, yes.

Unfortunately, there was no confrontation. If there was though, I'm pretty sure that I would TOTALLY win...not that I've ever been in a cat fight before, but in my fantasies, I'm ruthless.

She did however, find several excuses to stare me up and down a few times. All I have to say is, my boobs are WAY bigger than hers. I win.

Also, I'm not crazy....at least not clinically.

I'M SOOOOO HAPPY!!!!

2007-01-10T11:04:00.000-08:00

I just discovered my blog works at school now!!!! Ha, ha, school administrators!!! You've given me a reason not to work!! I couldn't be happier if you raised my salary!
....well, let me think about that....

So, I'm back! And I'm typing when I should be paying attention to 1st graders, but WHO CARES?!!! I can blog again. Everyday! Maybe even twice a day! What joy is mine.

But on to other things: I was truly concerned in my last post about hurting hundreds of boys' feelings by telling them I am now dating SOAPM exclusively. However, I held fast to hope that it would all work itself out. Indeed, I wished that all the "extra" men in my life would just sort of "disappear," so I wouldn't have to grow a pair and tell them - all 500 of them - that they were all the losers and could only hope for a life of pain and misery after not being able to "hold me down," as it were.

And, I really was concerned. Really.

Do you want to know what happened?? Do you?

I found out SOAPM is married.

JUST KIDDING!!! He's not.

What really happened is, it all worked itself out! I didn't have to do anything! At all! I'm so awesome.

Hottest Guy tried to get me over to his house for a booty call and was slapped down with quick rejection. He hasn't called back. And usually, telling a guy you won't have sex with him is a sure-fire way to get him to never call you back.

The other guy I was dating kept not calling me back and then would try to blame his wrongdoing on me. The first few times, I was fooled by his shenanigans, and I'd let him take me out to dinner, so we could "work things out." At dinner I would say, "Other guy, I feel like you just want to get in my pants."

"Oh, no!! Not that at all! I really like you for you, but I am sexually attracted to you, is that so wrong?"

"Well, no I guess not," I'd say as I was devouring my Chicken Parmesean and gulping my Cosmopolitan.

"Let's go back to my place," he'd suggest.

"Okay," my tipsy mouth would reply. Everytime this happened, I intended to leave his place after 15 minutes, but somehow was persuaded to stay longer. He would then proceed to try and get in my pants. Finally, I figured out his game and stopped returning his calls. He also hasn't called back.

What joy! I didn't actually have to do anything and my whole dating life is in order!!

See?! SEE?!! Hold on to hope, above all else, and you, too can experience order without effort!

I mean, that's what I do.

What to do...what to do...

2007-01-03T17:05:00.000-08:00

Soooo.....
I haven't exactly told every guy I was dating before SOAPM that I'm not dating them anymore....

I thought that maybe they would just sort of disappear, but so far, I haven't had a lot of luck with that. One guy that I went out with a LONG time ago (May) is suddenly blowing up my phone. Another guy, who is a bit more current, is finding it difficult to catch the hint (even though I think I'm laying it on thickly).

Aside: (Incidently, Hottest Guy hasn't been calling lately as he claims that one of those guys that got stuck on that mountain in Oregan was his "really good friend," and the grief apparently is making it difficult to pick up the phone. That and I think he was hoping to get "some" because he was sad, however, he found out the hard way I don't answer booty calls...even if your "really good friend" is tragically buried under 10 feet of snow.)

You see, the problem is that I've never had to break up with a guy unless he was a total f*ckwit, and none of these guys (now, of course, excluding Hottest Guy) are aforementioned. They may not be terribly interesting or intelligent, but they're certainly not total losers! And how crappy is it to be dating someone only to find out said someone likes another more than you?

It means you lose.

While I may have Miss Havershim tendencies at times, I don't want to be the bearer of bad news!

*sigh*

I'm going to have to grow a pair and tell the truth. Yuck. I'd much rather pussyfoot around this issue until it went away.

But maybe, just maybe, it will go away on its own! Maybe I won't have to say anything or hurt anyone's feelings and it will all just go away!

And I may be kind of a wimp for wishing for the mess I've made to clean itself up, but if there's one thing I've learned in this crazy life, it is: one must - above all else - hold on to hope.

That's what I plan to do.

Good plan, me.

ummm....i don't really know how to say this....

2007-01-02T20:39:00.000-08:00

hmm...well...i guess i should come right out with it...

SOAPM and I might be dating exclusively....

(everytime I say that I feel a little panicky) I think this means that I'll probably have to go back to his dad's church. Next time I'll bring a pretty big fan in hopes to prevent the sweating.

So, you know what this means, right??? No more Hottest Guy and no more of the rest of them.

NO MORE!! It also means my dating life will be pretty boring and probably kind of sickening. So, I won't really be talking about it much....ummm....uh....unless SOAPM decides to do something totally boneheaded and retarded, in which case, you will ALL be hearing about it! At great length.

In other news, I spent New Year's Eve on a crappy South Texas Beach. It was cold and windy. And there was a knife fight between two men who were fat and clearly intoxicated. Also, some trashy women showed up to try and break it up by yelling, "God d*mmit, Marcus!! Get up! God d*mmit!"

It was pretty dang exciting.

I Believe in Science, Part II

2006-12-28T21:44:00.000-08:00

So, what did happen at the white elephant crapchange?

Practically nothing.

My "horrid cousins" weren't there. Thank jebus. However, there was a family there who wasn't related to us at all. I liked them.

My dad let me shoot his rifle. It's the first time anyone's ever trusted me with a deadly weapon. I'm not a good shot, by the way. I kinda hoped I'd be like Annie Oakley, but I'm not. The whole experience reminded everyone why they never let me twirl my fire batons at football games.

But back to the crapchange: hardly anyone stole anything because everything everybody brought was so crappy. I tried to liven things up by stealing a cheap pink watch, thinking that someone would steal it, but they didn't.

Let's just all thank heaven that my "horrid cousins" weren't there or I would have had to threaten them with my dad's rifle.

The think of it is, I only have two "horrid cousins," but they're both so excruciatingly boring that they make my head want to explode. When they walk in the room, the excitement level goes down about 10 notches. Fortunately, they weren't there. I thought they would be. But the weren't. So, consequently, it wasn't all that bad...even with the really crappy pink watch I was forced to take.

I still haven't given up my belief in Science, however. It'll take a Tiffany's bracelet to get me to convert.

Bah. Hum. Bug.

2006-12-22T10:38:00.001-08:00

It's the 22nd. Of December. I haven't done any Christmas shopping. At all. It's almost 1pm right now. I haven't even gotten out of my pajamas. To make matters worse, I'm at my parents' house. And we all remember what happened last time I was here!

So, I have an aunt who has mental problems...some I secretly suspect she brought upon herself, but whatever. She decided that because she's run her family into a mountain of debt from all her mental shenanigans, they didn't have enough money for Christmas this year. (However, they just bought a new car.) So my Grandmother and my other aunt decided that we could just have a fun, light-hearted, white elephant exchange.

*sigh*

I hate white elephant crapchanges. And now because my aunt has spent the last decade being a selfish "mentally ill" skank, I have to suffer.

WHY????!!!!!! I DID NOT DO ANYTHING TO DESERVE THIS!!!!!!!!!

Maybe I'll be athiest for Christmas so I don't have to participate.

"Grandma and Grandpa, Uncles and Aunts, Cousins and that one 1st-Cousin-Once-Removed, I no longer believe in God. I believe in Science. As such, I cannot participate in your white elephant crapchange this year." This will, of course be followed by weeping, wailing, and the typical gnashing of teeth. But, I will not be moved by such emotion and will hold fast to my belief in Science forever until the crapchage is over.

This is the best idea I've ever had.

Vacation

2006-12-19T10:10:00.000-08:00

So, I'm on vacation. I'm sleeping late, I'm watching TV....a lot like I did this summer. The difference?? I haven't gotten fat yet! Of course it's only been about 3 days. Also, I've been seeing a lot of SOAPM, which has been delightful. Sunday I went to SOAPM's church. I was feelin' fine about it, until I got about a mile from the church. Then, I started sweating.

SWEATING!! I don't sweat. Even when I go run miles upon miles, I glisten. I'm just not a sweater. So, I figure, I'm just a little nervous. I give myself a pep talk, "Okay, Queen, get yourself together. You're hot and gorgeous! Everybody loves you! Nobody is as fabulous as you! You're smart and clever and SOAPM is a lucky, lucky man!" I feel better for about 5 seconds.

See, the problem is, from what he's told me his mother sounds a lot like me. I would HATE to face me as a mother! I'm a hard woman to face. My brother's girlfriend's are scared of me! Imagine if they were my son's girlfriends! I would be TERRIFYING!

I'm contemplating this as I'm walking into the church. Still sweating.

I'm late. On purpose. Fashionably late. (I look fabulous, by the way.) I sit down and am graciously received by a couple of members. I'm still sweating. And kind of nervous.

So, there I am in church, sitting by myself, as SOAPM plays the bass guitar for the church and is at the front. And then it dawns on me...

I'm sweatin' like a whore in church.

huh.

In Deep Smit

2006-12-16T17:17:00.000-08:00

That's right. I'm in it up to my eyeballs. Smit. I'm smitten. And while some of you think that because of my tendency to gravitate toward horrible jerk-offs, this one has to be TERRIBLE, you're wrong. Wrong!!

So, why is this not a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea?? Because this one's a gem, and so unlike any of the others I've been out with as of late you're going to blown away. I'm not kidding. YOU'LL BE BLOWN AWAY!!!!

Prepare yourselves.

Here we go:
He's a teacher, like me. He loves Jack Black, like me. He loves my dog, like me. He's good at math, not like me. He has an engaging personality and easy smile, like me. He drives a Honda, like me. One time, he threw up in the neighbor's yard, like me. He's the oldest sibling, like me. He goes to church every Sunday, like me (stop laughing. I DO go to church every Sunday!!!Think of how much of a heathen I'd be if I didn't!) He thinks I'm fabulous, like me. He thinks I'm really funny, like me. He likes my hair, like me. He's good at his job, like me. He's socially ept, like me. And...the real clincher....you probably won't believe it, but it's true...he's...he's...

a preacher's kid...

like me.

Now, I know that most of you are thinking, "Oh, holy jebus, two preaher's kids in one dating relationship sounds like the worst idea in the history of mankind!" And most of the time, that would probably be true. But, so far, it's proven to be PERFECT! He hasn't even tried to get into my pants!! And it's not because he's gay. I swear. "But you've accidently dated gay guys before, Queen," you're thinking.

This is true. But, he's totally not gay. The accidental dating of gay guys has given me excellent gaydar.

I'm going to chuch with him tomorrow. Seriously.

See, naysayers?? See?? It's not nearly as ominous as it sounds!! It's almost the exact opposite of ominous!

Now, you're probably all wondering about all the other guys I've been going out with. Well, I've decided not to go out with them anymore. I KNOW! I'm just as surprised as you! But, I felt prompeted when Son of a Preacher Man (SOAPM) sent me a text message in the middle of the day, for no real reason, telling me he was thinking about me. "Oh," I thought. "This sounds like it could be serious. And he's not a fuckwit, so maybe I should cut it off with the fuckwits I AM seeing, so I don't go and screw up a good thing."

Are you surprised by my sudden wisedom??? See?? It was in there all along, I just chose not to access it. Generally, fooishness makes for a more interesting story than wisedom.

So, because I seem to be making wiser decisions in my dating life, I've decided to be fantastically foolish in some other area of my life, so I still have something to blog about! Do not fret, I will continue to entertain you all by giving you examples of what NOT to do.

For instance, tomorrow, after I go to church with SOAPM, I'm going to come home, eat as much pizza as I can, then go swimming in the cold pool water, until someone has to call the paramedics! It's going to be GREAT!!!!

Misadventure, you will be my constant companion.

Crappity, Crap, Crap, Crap

2006-12-11T20:19:00.000-08:00

Sooooo....I'm totally smitten. Not with Hottest Guy nor with any of the other guys I've let take me to dinner lately. But, I don't have enough time to tell you guys about it!!! I know! Not being able to blog at work is really starting to become tragic. But, do not fret!!! I'll tell soon! Promise.

just when you think it can't get any worse...

2006-12-06T18:12:00.000-08:00

In addition to having all blogs in the whole wide world blocked. Now, my school computer just doesn't work. At all. I had to read the NEWSPAPER! WTF??

The Worst News EVER!!!!!!!!!!

2006-12-04T20:16:00.000-08:00

The district (aka, my employer) has finally restricted me from viewing or updating my blog. What a sad, sad day. I cried big, wet tears. Forgive me if my postings are sparse for the next few days as I adjust to this severe blow in my everyday schedule. Also, this means that I cannot read any of YOUR blogs. And now you're crying. I know. I know. In the words of George Strait, "Let's fall to pieces together..."

Seriously. I suck.

2006-11-30T19:10:00.000-08:00

Not only did I NOT break it off with Hottest Guy last night, I made a huge neurotic mess of things. All of a sudden, instead of being my usual spitfire, Queen, iii self, I was nervous and blushing and a little bit silly - like a little school girl in front of her much older crush. Seriously. Could it get much worse??

It could.

If I could have left with some dignity, with some ounce of self-respect, then it wouldn't have been worse. It would have been just another one of Queen's silly little bunglings, funny misadventures...it would have been, but...but...*sigh*

I walked in to Hottest Guy's loft ready for battle, ready to just get it all over with. I listened to Fiona Apple all the way over there! I was ready. He was upstairs. My whole excuse for going over there in the first place, was to get my earrings back...he wasn't borrowing them, I left them there after a date. I go upstairs. We exchage short greetings. He gets me my earrings. I put them in my pocket. Then the dialogue (and I'm summing up):

Q: Thanks for the earrings. (I'm trying to keep it short.) Oh. And here's your t-shirt you let me borrow.

HG: Oh...o-o-kay. (Significant pause. He looks deep into my eyes.)

Q: 'Cause you know, I don't really know when I'm going to see you again...

HG: O-o-kay. (He keeps looking deeply in my eyes. He pauses and sighs.) You know, Queen, you're not not seeing me. It's not like you're never going to see me again.

Q: (Here's where I really start to break down.) Well, you know, I mean I know that, it's just that you know, I just have been getting some mixed signals from you and I don't really know what to think and I certainly don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do, so you know, I just thought I should just get my stuff and give you yours and then whatever...

HG: You're not forcing me to do anything I don't want to do. I really like you, Queen, and I want to continue to see you.

Q: Well, okay, that's fine. I've just been getting mixed signals is all and, you know, um...most guys I date really sort of show a little more interest or at least return my phone calls...

HG: I've returned your phone calls.

Q: Well, most of them, but you're not really battin' a hundred. (I momentarily gain a little control of myself, but it soon all goes to hell in a handbasket.)

HG: Look, I'm sorry. But I really do like you and I really want to continue to see you! (Again, he looks deeply into my eyes. This makes me nervous, but in a way that I like. The fact that I like it, makes me even more nervous. The fact that I'm nervous makes me mad at myself. It was very confusing. And neurotic.)

Q: Okay, well, I wouldn't mind that. That's fine. I mean, I'd like to continue to see you, too, so good. Okay. Okay. I have to go. But, HG, look, if I don't fit into your life that's totally okay. You can just tell me because I won't mind at this point (Obviously, I'm a liar). I mean, it's okay if I don't fit into your life, because I'm kinda feeling like I don't fit into your life.

HG: Queen, stop being so sensitive.

(And here, right here, is where I truly lose it. Truly. In response to him telling me to stop being so sensitive, I...did sort of like a litle running in place thing....just for about a second, but still...imagine Flashdance - you know "She's a maniac, maniac..." Horrifying, isn't it?)

Q: I'm not being sensitive!!!

HG: Okay, look, I have to go pick up my drunk friends at a bar, but when I get done I'm going to call you. I promise. And we'll talk.

Q: Okay...okay...okay....I'll take you for your word. (And as I'm walking out the door, I say...) By the way, I waxed my car by myself last week!

(I just couldn't leave with any sort of dignity, could I?? NO! I waxed my car???? Who cares?! Why did I say that???? I could have left with something....even after my Flashdance interpretation! But, no. Not me. Who needs dignity??? Apparently not me anymore. Maybe next time I go over to his loft, I can throw up on his front porch.)

HG: That's pretty cool. Talk to you soon.

And we did talk again soon. Because he called. And while, I maybe a little trigger happy to kick this one to the curb, all in all, he seems like a fairly decent guy....which may explain my propensity to get rid of him. Decent guys, as history has shown, aren't really my type. And conducting my every day life with any shred of dignity is apparently, no longer my style!

If I rip it off like a band-aid, maybe it won't hurt so much

2006-11-29T17:24:00.000-08:00

Remember Hottest Guy from this post? Well, I'm flushing him down the toilet tonight (figuratively) and it's going to be so hard because he's so hott. I can't believe I'm doing this, but frankly, he hasn't been paying me the appropriate amount of attention, so he has to get the boot. I wish it didn't have to go down like this, but a girl's gotta do, you know?? I'm gonna try to do it quickly, so it doesn't hurt as much, but truth be told, I may cry myself to sleep tonight. Let's hope my eyes don't swell shut.

There Comes a Time....

2006-11-28T08:03:00.000-08:00

There comes a time in every mid-twenties single girl's life when she starts to really wonder what the heck is wrong with her. For me, this happens at least twice a year. While I'm in Everycity, I never really think about it. But, when I go home, this malaise creeps upon me like a chigger bug and bites me right behind the knee.

You see, everyone in my family is attached to some significant other... everyone except me that is. Brother is attached, BFF is married, even my fat ugly cousin is married!! And to someone who actually has a sense of humor and isn't significantly malformed in any way!!

At first, I don't notice. But after awhile, it starts to plague me. Why am I not attached? What is wrong with me? How can my fat, ugly, uninteresting, slightly retarted cousin be married and I can't even get a guy to commit to go to the movies with me??? There must be something horribly, terribly wrong with me!!!

And it doesn't help that my mother keeps saying encouraging things like, "Don't worry honey, when the time is right you'll find him!" Maybe this is why I puked in the neighbor's front lawn.

The thing of it is, I don't even really want to be attached. I like sleeping by myself everynight. I like using men for free meals and such. I like spending time by myself doing whatever I want whenever I want. But being around married people and significantly attached people makes me neurotic. Or, to be accurate, MORE neurotic than usual. Like I need help being MORE neurotic.

Anywho, I'll snap out of it in about a week or two, but until then, I'm probably gonna have to watch a few chick flicks and listen soft rock until I'm sick and tired of love.

The Bold, Naked Truth

2006-11-27T16:49:00.000-08:00

There have been few times in my life in which I have lost all dignity. This may come as a bit of a shock to most of you. But, it's true. Even in the darkest of moments, even in the face of total embarrassment, I manage to gather up some of my dignity and hold my head high. In fact, I can't think of a single moment in which I've lost all dignity....that is... previous to last week.

I was at home - my parents' home that is. I feel really safe and comfortable at home. I don't have to be pretty or even particularly nice and people still love me. It's great. So, because of my high comfort level, I sometimes do things that I wouldn't normally do.

It's Thursday (Thanksgiving). We're at my BFF's house. There's lots of booze. And I start drinking. And drinking. And drinking. Then, I passed out in a chair. I awoke at 6 am. I drive home. Barefoot. I fall into bed in hopes to sleep it off.

Around noon on Friday, my mom comes into my room and announces that she wants us to all go eat as a family and then go shopping. I get out of bed, but realize I still have a lot of alcohol in my system. Being the clever girl I am, I force myself to throw up, thinking that will do the trick. I take a shower and we go to lunch. The whole family. Me, Brother, Mom and Dad. Precious. We go eat and maybe I don't eat as much as usual. No one seems to notice, fortunately, except for Brother because he actually saw my descent into drunken debauchery. Mom and Dad are shopping and Brother and I venture off in our own direction, but about 20 minutes later, I realize that I'm still not feeling so well. I make Brother go corral the parentals. It takes him FOREVER. In the mean time, I'm trying to sleep on a bench, but it isn't going very well.

Finally, we're in the car, but we can't find Dad. Mom has to drive around the parking lot for a minute until we find him wandering. The house is just around the corner. I think I can make it. But every bump in the road feels like a finger down my throat.

We're less that a half-mile away. I declare, "I'm going to throw up."

"Right now?" Mom asks.

"No, I can make it," I claim. But two seconds later, when we're approximately 50 feet from my parents' house, I realize I can't make it. I weakly bang on the car door. Brother understands.

"Stop now, Mom!!" Brother exclaims.

She stops. I fly out of the car and onto the neighbor's lawn. I immediately begin to empty my guts on the neighbor's lawn. The neighbor is standing out on his lawn, fortunately. He seemed to express some concern. Then the across the street neighbor comes out of her house. As I'm throwing up. Then the other next door neighbor drives by and stops to see if everything's okay. As I'm throwing up. It's possible that the whole neighborhood was out, but I just didn't notice them over all the throwing up I was doing.

As I finally stood up to walk the 50 feet back into my parents' house, I realized that was, hands down, the most undignified moment of my entire life... and possibly the lowest moment of my entire life as well, but that's hard to say since I don't really remember most of the events that led up to my puking in the neighbor's front yard.

And there it is. Let's hope it doesn't get much lower than this.

So many men, so little time

2006-11-21T20:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, so in my last post (which, I know, was about a billion days ago), I mentioned briefly how busy I was breaking men's hearts while simultaneously eating the food they buy me. And I have been busy, it true.

However, I am ashamed of the way I have neglected my blog and YOU, my faithful readers...all three of you. But, I'm going to catch you all up to speed in the next few days. I promise, promise, promise.

Firstly, let me elaborate on weekend before last:
On Friday, my lovely cousin called me and told me she had snagged me a ticket to one of the hottest parties of the season. I couldn't get a ticket myself, because they were sold about 4 months in advance (or something like that), but she, being the amazing woman that she is, produced one out of thin air - AND for FREE!!!

So, I rushed to get myself together, it was cocktail attire, so unfortunately I coudn't go in jeans. Now, this was one of those parties where there are mostly just married couples, but there's lots of free booze. And you know how the old saying goes, where there's free booze, there's Queeniii!

I was planning on having a pretty good time despite there being a shortage of men. After the party, the girls and I decided we'd all head up to the hottest new nightclub in town that just happened to be in the same hotel the party was. What fun! Honest, tipsy, boyless fun!

So, we go to the party. We eat, we drink, we gamble for charity. After we played the Black Jack tables to our hearts' content, we mosied on over to the main bar. Now, let me reiterate that this is a party with mostly married couples.

So, we're at the bar, and I'm already pretty happy, and I'm not paying attention and I accidently cut in line. Nobody likes a cutter. I turn around to apologize for my inconsiderate behavior, and behind me stand two beautiful, beautiful men. I'm almost speechless, but I pull it together, reminding myself that they're probably here with someone. I apologize and flirt just a little. They flirt back. I ask who they're with. They say no one. I ask how they got invited. They responded, but I wasn't listening. My girls come over. I introduce everyone. Everyone starts having a lot of fun. We decide it's time to go up to the hip club upstairs.

Up we go.

I should just cut to the chase. The hottest one of the duo becomes my make-out partner.

I know you're all very proud.

We decide to leave the hotel and check out hottest boy's downtown loft. We go.

I realize as we're in the car on the way to hottest boy's loft, I've lost my keys. All of them. My only copy to EVERYTHING!!! crap.

But, what could I do? Go back and ruin the whole night?? NO! I was not going to ruin a night of fun with my girls and two really, really, really hot guys!

What can I say, I'm a matyr.

We get to hottest guy's loft. It's ginormous. With a deck, a pool table, a half court basketball thing, a big screen, etc. I asked several times if hottest guy was a drug dealer. He said no, but he was an Eagle Scout. I furrowed my brow at this repeatedly.

In addition to hottest boy's ridiculous loft, he had two garages with 4 cars. A BMW, a circa 1970s Land Cruiser, a circa 1990s Land Cruiser, and some sort of classic American convertable. He still claims he's not a drug dealer.

Anywho - long story longer, hottest boy was smitten with me, couldn't get enough of me, wanted me to call him the next day. I did. Two days later we went out. But, I'll talk more about that later.

Fortunately, the hotel and the hott nightclub are right next door to my house, so after our night of fun, I got my stuff out of my friend's hotel room and walked my pathetic, drunken little butt home.

Because I didn't have my keys, I had to hang out with the security guard for about 30 minutes and wait for the not-very-courteous-courtesy officer to unlock my apartment for a violating $25.

I walk inside my apartment. Taraji has been alone for a very, very long time now. It was a disaster. He had gotten ahold of my hot pink feather boa and torn it to shreds. He also knocked some things over, pulled some things out of their place, and generally made about as big a mess as dogly possible. The good news is, however, that he didn't pee on the carpet. What joy.

The next day, I had to spend all the daylight hours fixing the mess I had made the night before.

And then I had a date. With another man.

More about that later!!

I'm exhausted

2006-11-14T11:48:00.000-08:00

Turns out, using men for free meals and blog material is a lot harder than you might think. I'm so busy, I have hardly a moment to tell you guys about it!

I haven't even gotten a moment (until now) to describe in detail my wild weekend, in which I lost my keys, my dog shredded my hot pink feather boa, and I might have made out with one or two people!!!

My students are being SO high maintenance right now. For instance, just now, I told them to go work in groups, but I can see from my computer that their self-supervision really isn't going very well. I'm probably going to have to get up at some point.

My main idea is, I really, really would like to be blabbing my guts to the world via the internet, but alas! I'm swamped. So, I'll be blabbing my guts soon, but not today. I have a date today, and a room of high-maintenance second graders.

But soon, you'll get the truth - all of it.

You can hardly wait, huh?

Theory No. 1: Being mean to a man makes him fall in love with you

2006-11-10T08:15:00.000-08:00

My heart is as cold as tap water in winter. I'm turning into Miss Havershim. I can feel it happening. I just don't care.

This week, 3 seperate men, including the famed "Kelvin," have told me that they want me to be their girl forever and ever and ever and ever. And you know how I responded? I yawned. Then I popped my back.

But you know why these "men" are falling in love with me (excluding, of course, Kelvin, who's obviously insane)?? The reason they're all suddenly finding me the most irresistable woman in the world is because I won't give them any. And by "any," I don't mean money.

Additionally, I'm also kind of mean to them. Not really, really mean, but certainly not very nice. For instance, when any one of them starts off on a long monologue about how we should be together and how I'm so beautiful and sexy and we would be the perfect couple, blah, blah, blah, I completely tune them out. I honestly don't hear a single word they're saying. There are even times when I try to listen, but when I focus on their words, it starts to sounds like Portugese. I never took Portugese.

But judging from their inflection, all the words that come out of their mouth can be summed up with this: "Please, please sleep with me."

So, after each man's monologue is finished, I say: "I'm not going to sleep with you." And sometimes, I interject this throughout his monologue just to make sure he understands.

He never understands, and therefore continues talking, as if my, "I'm not going to sleep with you" actually means, "Please, please try and convince me of all the reasons I should sleep with you."

And now, I'm just exhausted. If another man tells me how sexy he thinks I am, I'm going to chew up a green crayon and puke it up.

Here's what I'm discovering: "I think you're sexy" = "I hope you're easy"

So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stop being even a little bit nice. I think that I'll keep seeing all of these men, (excluding Krazy Kelvin, whom I don't even know) continue getting free meals, and elevate my meanness to a whole new level. A logical mind would conclude that a man would just ditch a girl who was mean and withholding, but I think we'll find the opposite is true. I think we'll find they won't ditch me, but instead will think my denials are acutally just a clever way to get them all to try harder. Think of all the free meals and liquor I'll get!! And the whole time they'll be thinking they're going to get "some," but they won't!!!! I can't wait!

I think this may actually seal the deal on my perpetual spinsterhood. But, no matter! As I remember it, Miss Havershim was kind of hott.

I just couldn't wait

2006-11-06T13:50:00.000-08:00

I don't want to overshadow today's previous post, as it is truly miraculous, however, today, not less than an hour ago, I got this email.

I'm not going to say how exactly I encountered this young man, but let's just say I know him very little.

It's a poem, and while I don't think it was written for me, I think he hopes that it will apply to me. It should make you want to die. (By the way, I've copied it for you here, completely unedited.)

"My love for you is as cool as the ocean
as we walked through the waves with love and devotion
my love for you is not as complex
it’s not just your looks or the great sex
it’s your personality that shines to me
being with you shows what love can be
I look at the picture that you sent me
knowing your waiting makes me happy
all the times we’ve spent together
I just hope the good times can last forever and ever
I never want anyone to tear us apart
a piece of you will always be in my heart......

Do you believe in love at first sight?
Do you believe dreams come true?
Do you believe in all this, I know I do!
I believe that dreams come true because
I have always dreamed of someone like you .
I believe in love at first sight because
it just felt so right when I saw you that night.
Now I believe, so, baby, please never leave ,
just stay with me and maybe you will finally see
that you also believe in me !!!
I LOVE YOU BABE WATING FOR YOUR RESPOND"

oh. holy. jebus.

I don't ever remember meeting this guy, and to tell you the truth, I have NO idea who he is. I mean, I can't really put a face to the name. He claims his name is Kelvin. I don't know a Kelvin...at least I don't think I know a Kelvin. And whoever he is, we've certainly never had any "great sex." Nor have we had any "times together." And never, never have we "walked through the waves in the ocean." I'm soooooo glad I didn't give this guy my phone number. I must have really known what I was doing that night! (Except for that, I did give him my email address....but a girl can't be perfect!) My point is, I DON'T KNOW THIS MAN!!!

How many different ways can you say crazy???

Miracle of Miracles

2006-11-06T10:48:00.000-08:00

I had three dates this weekend with three different men. Each one provided me with great opportunity to break out the Make-Out Bandit Cape.

However--and this is the biggest news anyone's ever heard--I did NOT make out with a single one!

I'm totally not kidding.

I am the picture of restraint! Look at me! Before you know it, I'll be wearing Victorian collars and hiding my ankles with high boots and long skirts!

I don't even really know how I managed it all. I mean, the opportunity was there, but I just didn't take it. That NEVER happens. Not ever.

And, let's just all be honest here, it's probably never going to happen again.

So, let us mark down this monumental event in history. Let us take a moment and realize how rare this happening truly is. And if you feel tears welling in your eyes, just let them go. Now, you must know what it was like for the Israelites to see the Red Sea parted!

And to add to this miracle of miracles, nary a one of them were married!

Praise Jebus.

You're weeping, aren't you?

Green Puke

2006-10-30T12:59:00.000-08:00

So, Monday, a child in my classroom managed to eat and entire green crayon without me noticing. He then proceeded to throw up said crayon so quietly, I again did not notice. Eduardo had to come point it out to me.

Now, this incident raises many questions. The most begging is, how do you manage to chew up an entire crayon AND swallow it?? Miraculous.

Judging from his puke, he definitely chewed up the whole crayon. I guess wax doesn't always agree with the human digestive tract.

So, for future reference, the next time you are coloring in your coloring book and you start to look at those sweet, juicy crayons and think they might taste like candy, remember this story and think twice. Because throwing up a crayon has to be at least twice as miserable as swallowing it.

What to when you're bored and feeling kind of mean

2006-10-30T11:54:00.000-08:00

So, this summer, I went out with a musician that seemed like a pretty nice guy, but actually turned out to be kind of a jerk and a little too much like a woman for me to deal with. During our dating stint, he agreed to come to my school and talk to the kids at a special event called "Fabulous Friday." The event he was to come to was this Friday, but it got cancelled. This Friday (before the multiple make-out sessions), I was extremely bored. So, I decided to drum up just a little trouble.

After not hearing from the boy in over a month, I figured he wasn't going to come, and was actually kind of relieved, as his womanly ways were far too annoying for me to handle. But due to my extreme boredom, I thought now would be a perfect opportunity to create a little drama to entertain myself. So I emailed him:

"Boy,
Sooooo....haven't heard from you in a while....

That's cool, though. My feelings aren't hurt. Anywho - today was the day that you were going to come to my school...and I would have totally forgotten if the teacher in charge of it hadn't expressed his severe annoyance at how he tried to contact you, but you didn't respond. Now, I don't know if he really did try and contact you or not, but either way, I don't like getting bitched at.

And for future reference, typically people appreciate some kind of communication when you're going to cancel on them....

It wasn't really that big of a deal, this whole program, and I don't know if aforementioned teacher actually did try and contact you, or if you did respond, or whatever, I just know that I took the heat for you today and it wasn't a lot of fun.

ESPECIALLY since you totally seemed like a "nice" guy at first. I guess I just expected more out of you.

Well, no matter. I'll surely get over it.

-Queen "

I know. It was pretty mean. BUT, I was BORED! And - he did turn out to be kind of a jerk, so he had it comin'.
Also, no one "bitched" at me. I just made that up for dramatic effect. And the thing of it is, like a true woman, he responded! And he was very offended. And I was very delighted. Here's what we said:

"First off, the phone and email works both ways. Second, you booked me, I didn't book myself, its up to the people who book me to confirm details as I have alot of bookings. Third, I don't appreciate having my personality attacked in the manner in which it was. No one contacted me and I assumed you would to finalize details but you didn't. If you give me the name of the supposed teacher contacting me and an email, I'll tell him or her the same thing. Im a busy person with school and performing and on top of that with work. I can't manage other peoples schedules and bookings and confirm them when they ask. So yes, this is/was a big deal in the manner it was presented to me."

It was almost too easy. I squealed with delight and then responded:

"Well, I'll talk to the teacher about it. And this wasn't an 'attack.' Trust me. An attack is vicious. I certainly did not mean to come across as vicious. I'm just generally annoyed.

And you're right, the phone does work both ways...

However, we had finalized the details, I emailed you directions, and things were set in stone. You had it on your calendar, or so you said. Seemed pretty final to me. And to tell you the truth, after I hadn't heard from you in a month, I actually just forgot all about it. So no biggie. I mean, I certainly don't want to stress you out since you're so busy and important.

I guess I was just venting. Hope I didn't ruin your day.

-Queen"

Isn't it just riddled with a sarcastic and condecending tone?! I especially like the part where I call him, "so busy and important." Ugly isn't it?

I'm beginning to feel a bit like Miss Havershim.

Classic Make-Out Bandit Move #128: The Double Header

2006-10-30T06:39:00.000-08:00

Back in the golden age of my make-out banditism, I had some classic moves. One was the Double Header (#128), which included two "dates" in one night. (I say "dates" because they weren't really dates as we didn't really go anywhere, we just "hung out". And by "hung out," I don't mean that we sat around and watched chick flicks....I'm sure you follow my meaning.) These "dates" included a standard make-out session...and if they included anything more, conveniently, I don't remember.

Now, I haven't pulled a double header in a while, nor have I needed to. However, we all know that I've been lookin' to start a little trouble. And naturally, with little effort, I found it.

Thus, this weekend:
I'm walking my dog, minding my own business, when my phone rings. (My ring tone, by the way is the Rocky theme played on the Pianica by my little brother. Let this underscore the following scene.) It's my around the corner neighbor. We'll call him "Treyford."

Me: Hello?

Treyford: Uh. Yeah. What's up?

Me: Nuthin'

Treyford: You at home?

Me: Yeah.

Treyford: What, you about to go somewhere?

Me: No. What's up?

Treyford: I need to talk to you.

Me: (Oh holy jebus. What could he possibly have to say to me?) Well, okay. What do you need to talk to me about?

Treyford: I just need to talk to you. Could you come over?

Me: (hesitatingly) oh...okay, sure. Is everything okay?

Treyford: I just need to talk to you.

Me: Okay, I'll be over in a second.

We hang up. I start to put on a sweatshirt to go over there and my phone rings again. (Still the Rocky theme)

Me: Hello?

Treyford: Listen, I know you're busy, so you don't have to come down here.

Me: No, I'm not really that busy and I was just about to walk out the door.

Treyford: Well, it's cold outside, so I don't want for you to have to walk all the way over here.

Me: It's 60 degrees outside and you live around the corner!

Treyford: I just need to tell you something, so just let me get this off my chest.

Me: (Oh, Lord. Here it comes.) Sure. I'm listening.

Treyford: Ever since I first saw you, I thought you were a beautiful woman. And I know that you've been goin' through some things, so I'm trying to give you your space, but I just...I just think that we would be good together and...it's like you won't even try. I'd really like for you to just give us a chance and you don't have to say anything now, but will you at least think about it?

(I should probably interject here that I made out with Treyford shortly after my horrible break up with latest ex-boyfriend...and actually... we made out more than once...)

Me: (Find a way to let him down easy, Queen. Don't panic. Breathe. Don't forget to breathe.) Well, Treyford, I honestly didn't know that it was that crucial for you. Had I known....but, I mean, well, I can tell you now that I wouldn't mind dating you, but I just couldn't date you exclusively right now, because well...I'm just not ready...and honestly I thought that you've just been trying to get in my pants!

Treyford: I really want to date you exclusively, but look - just think about it, okay and call me later.

Me: (I guess he's not going to take no for an answer.) Sure.

That came from absolutely nowhere. NOWHERE!!! I mean, sure, we've been to the movies once and hung out a few times, but never had there been any discussion of "exclusive" dating. Anywho - after we hung up, I just sort of let it go and figured I'd call him the next day and evade the whole situation by rambling on and on about my dog until he was forced to hang up.

Then, the cute, but very tiny medical student from upstairs called me. Let's call him "Aladdin." (Aladdin is about 5' 2". No joke.) Aladdin and I have been friendly with one another for about a year. Sometimes we hang out, but not too often. Lately, we've hung out more frenquently than we ever have. Which is cool with me because he seems like a pretty nice guy and one time he helped me get a splinter out of my finger. (He's going to be a surgeon.)

So, Aladdin calls me and we're hanging out and drinking a little, but then a friend calls him and reminds him about a birthday party of a good friend he was supposed to go to. He has to leave but says he'll call me when he gets back. He leaves. I go home. I continue drinking. By myself.

Treyford calls me: "Please come over." I'm drunk. I say, "Okay."

I'm sure you're all clueless as to what happens next. Wait for it.....let the suspense build....it's a mystery....what could have possibly happened next????

I made out with Treyford. Oops. Tee hee.

He wanted me to spend the night.... even in my drunken state I realized that was a foolish idea. I leave.

Aladdin calls me: "Hey, come back up and let's hang out." I'm drunk. I say, "Okay."

Are any of you starting to see where this is leading?

Aladdin and I are hanging out, having a pretty good time, but I notice Aladdin's demeanor is changed.... but what's different??

"So, Queen," Aladdin begins, "what are my chances with you? Can you break it down into percentages for me?"

Oh. That's what's different. Hmm. I didn't see that one coming.

"Well, you seem like a pretty nice guy, so you get an automatic 15% for that. You're pretty cute, so that's at least 10%.... you're a medical student... and I'm a hypochondriac, so for me that's a full 25% ... I know your last name and you're not married.... oh and I like you, so, add the 5, carry the one, ummm...that's right at 75%! That's a lot better than what most guys start at!!" And I was actually being serious. Even though I was drunk.

Well, that's when the trouble started. I tried to leave shortly after I declared his 75% chance, but he wasn't going to let that happen. Did I mention I was drunk?

Well, long story short, I also made out with Aladdin, the cute, but tiny, medical student that lives upstairs. A true double header. I'd like to say it was my first double header, but alas! it most certainly was not.

NOW, I have to deal with fact that I've made out with two guys who live awfully close by. Thusly, I have to now avoid two guys who live awfully close by. This is not going to be an easy task. I'll probably have to lie, evade, and do all the usual things I do once the make-out bandit has gone and made a huge mess of things.

Maybe I really should start wearing a mask.

What a Wonderful World

2006-10-26T19:10:00.000-07:00

I've been watching lawyer shows since I was a small, small child. It all started with Matlock and Perry Mason, and has since grown into an obsession.

All these lawyer shows have something in common: the lawyers are very, very clever.

In real life, most lawyers aren't very clever at all, have crappy senses of humer, and live dull, glamourless lives. But aren't the TV shows so wonderful? Boston Legal, and Shark, Law and Order, Law and Order: SVI.

I'd be a good lawyer. But my LSAT score was mediocre at best. There wasn't a section on flamboyancy, cleverness, attractivness, lawyer-fashion or stage prescence! The test was clearly biased!

God bless the lawyer TV shows that keep the lawyer lies alive! They're certainly a lot better than married men.

Bad News Bears

2006-10-26T10:38:00.000-07:00

I have the worst news. Really, really bad news.

It turns out that I'm a complete idiot. And I'm probably not going to do anything about it. I'll probably just wallow in my idiocracy like a supple sow in the soft, moist earth.

So, here goes: RHMFT claims that he really wants to be my friend because I'm just so, so cool and he doesn't want to lose my friendship, even though he made me an adultress and he feels really, really bad about it all, blah, blah, blah.

Now, dear, dear readers, please do not think for one iota of a minute that I'm buying ANY of this! He's a liar. He's not a consistent liar, however, and at times that really does throw me off his trail. See, sometimes he tells the absolute truth, and that puts a little bug of doubt in my mind about his scroundrelism. HOWEVER, I'm smart enought to know that even if every once and a while he tells the truth, he's overall a liar. But he is really, really, really hot and pretty people are hard to refuse. I should know.

Anywho, I'm weak, very weak. And I like to be around charming people. You know, people like me. Also, I enjoy being around hot men. It's a thing - like a weakness for chocolate...(no pun intended, Forky!)

Thus, yesterday:
RHMFT had surgery Friday and I hadn't heard from him. I thought, "Well, hell. He has a wife! Why does he need me to pretend like I care?" So, I didn't call him to see how the surgery went. And actually, I was thinking during this time of RHMFT abstinece that it would be wise to just let the whole thing fizzle. Very wise, indeed. I actually thought that! Really. Even though he had just had major surgery on his shoulder Friday and even though we're pretending to be "friends," I thought it would just be best to the the whole thing just sputter out. He has a wife to check on him, what does he need me for? (I know, you're impressed with my overwhelming wisdom and discernment, aren't you?)

Well, all that wisdom went to hell yesterday. He called me. I answered the phone. He went on and on and on about how EVERYONE he knew called him except for me and he thought that I was his friend and he couldn't believe I didn't even send him a TEXT message or anything like that and his feelings were really, really hurt.

Crap. Think fast, Queen.

I made up something about how I thought he'd still be really drugged and I was going to check on him later this week or I didn't want to disturb him or I was just leaving him alone to recover because some people really like to be left alone. I'm a liar - I guess RHMFT and I are just two peas in a pod - except that I'm not married.

Let me take a short break here: isn't it phenomenal that I'm even speaking to this man?! Seriously, what's wrong with me? Oh, wait....I know! I'm an idiot.

So, long, long story short. He showed up at my apartment without being invited and we had several bizarre conversations. RHMFT swears that he's not taking any of the pain medication they gave him, but judging from his cracked-out behavior, he's taking a prescription of co-co vicodin. Whitney swears by it. At first, RHMFT paced around, then he was hungry, then he looked like he was going to pass out, then he asked if he could lie down, then he asked for a blanket, then he asked for another blanket, then he evaded questions about his wife, then he gave me religious advice, then he got up and left. But not before giving me the kind of hug an unmarried man would give me and kissing me on the cheek.

*sigh* See? I told you. I'm a complete idiot.

Never Again

2006-10-24T07:23:00.000-07:00

Never again will I doubt you, my faithful, loving, generous readers! I feel so foolish! But, in case you all forgot, I tend to be something of an attention-whore, which means, basically, if I feel like I'm not getting attention, I don't feel loved. I KNOW! I KNOW! It's totally a disorder. But it's my disorder. And I love it.

But, thank you, thank you for your validation - it does for me what crack does for Whitney! I think I'll be able to manage another week without breaking out the tap shoes, figuratively speaking.

Now, on to other things.

My electricity was out last night for the third time in about the last 6 months. I was annoyed. I couldn't watch TV, play on my laptop, do my yoga video, open my fridge, cook any crappy food...it was horrible. I'm surprised I even survived! Then, when it finally did come back on, it went off again. THEN, when I was in the bathtub, soaking all my troubles away, it went off AGAIN! But, it came back on after I cussed at it. Thank God I have such a sailor's mouth. I scared that electricity straight! I'm so powerful.

Also, here are a few updates:
RHMFT hasn't bothered me since Friday, and actually I'm kind of relieved. Now, I'm not saying that I'm being totally left alone by all men, but at least I'm being left alone by married men, which I think is really a good thing. (*sigh* He was really hot, though. I just can't win, can I?)

AND, I cut my dog's hair all by myself this weekend because I was sure that I could do it myself, because really, how hard could it be....

ummmm....it's actually a pretty challenging thing to do. Now my dog looks like he has mange. I'm not joking. BUT, his hair IS shorter, so really, mission accomplished. Well, done me! (kind of.)

So, as you can see, my life has been pretty boring these past few days - and you all know what that means....

I'm about to start some trouble! Can you even wait?! I don't know exactly what kind of trouble it will be, but mark my words: there will be trouble.

bwa...ha....ha

Inner Monologue

2006-10-20T19:54:00.000-07:00

How come no one's reading my blog? I'm really hungry. I wonder why no one is calling me...I mean, I don't really want to talk to anyone anyway, but I do want to feel popular.
Friday night TV sucks anus. I think I'm just gonna go to bed. I have a bunch of papers to grade. I promise I will do it tomorrow. Promise. I'll totally do it. No, I won't. I can't believe I'm an adultress. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I'm so hott, finding someone equally hott and unmarried shouldn't be this hard. But, if I had a boyfriend, I couldn't lie around and watch TV all night, I'd have to worry about him (or her, if I decide to become a lesbian), what he wants, if I'm giving him enough affection, or too much affection, if he thinks I'm a slob because I leave my clean laundry in the armchair, or because I haven't cleaned my bathtub in a week and a half. And OMG, remember how miserable you were with the last two loser boyfriends? Thank God I don't have to deal with that anymore! Geez. And anytime you have a boyfriend, you have to deal with that. Numbers sucks. Why haven't I been watching Law and Order? I have to pee. I wonder if anyone's buying this "I'm totally resistant to RHMFT's smooth ways" act. I doubt they are. I'm so transparent. Dammit. I bet RHMFT's not even buying it! Dammit. Be strong, Queen, be strong. Telemundo looks WAY more interesting than any of the English channels. What don't I know Spanish? I suck. Do I really not have any friends? I suck. I need to find a hot Asian to make out with. I wonder if British boys are good at kissing. Maybe I should go see. I wonder why hot guys are always such skanks. But, sometimes ugly guys are skanks, too. But, why? How could a not-hot guy be skanky? Who would put up with that? My dog stinks. I'm going to bed. Really. As soon as I publish this. And finish that bottle of champange.

To RHMFT: yawn

2006-10-18T12:44:00.000-07:00

So, I gave you a chance to explain to explain yourself. And while I appreciate your efforts, really I do, I'm finding it difficult to believe anything that comes out of your mouth.

Let's go over the facts:
1. You're married.
2. Your wife lives with you.
3. You're married.
4. You lied about being married.
5. You're married.

Now that we've established the facts: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU???!!!!!!

My head is spinning. So, you're married, and you claim you're really, really sorry for what you've done...but hold up...

you're still talking to me. Me, Queen, III. You know the one that you nearly fell over yourself to get to? You remember how you did that? Fell over yourself to get to me? Remember? And remember how you couldn't get over how incredibly incredible I am? And remember how you called me like 3 times a day? Remember all of that? But before, when you were falling all over yourself, I didn't know you were married. (MARRIED!)

And now, after your huge display of remorse and explanation - in which you offered very little explanation, actually - you're still falling all over yourself to get to me! But, why? WHY?!!!!!!!! YOU'RE MARRIED!!!!

You're still calling me more than my mother does (which is really saying something). You slithered your way into my apartment Tuesday under the guise of being my "friend." It was clever, I have to say. Quite clever. But I'm on to you. Really, I am.

You're not getting into my pants, RHMFT! I don't care how excruciatingly hot you are! And besides that, T.O. and I have been talking again...and...I don't know...I'm thinking about taking him back...

But besides all that, if you think for one minute I don't know what you're up to, you have another thing coming! I've seen and heard it all before! And whilst, I may of fallen for it ALL before, I'm not going to fall for it now! Believe that.

I'm so serious.

So, go ahead. Play it cool. Pretend like you just want to be my "friend," even though you're married. Nice try. You're tactics are SO overused. I know you're thinking I'm going to let my guard down and give you an opportunity to pounce, but you're wrong.

I'm saving myself for T.O. - or at least someone who isn't married.

Oh. holy. jebus.

2006-10-16T07:29:00.000-07:00

Turns out A-man is married "for real" and not "for fake" because his wife just called me. And according to said wife, RHMFT is married, too. Has been for years.

Incredible.

I didn't even see all this coming! I couldn't plan better drama even if I tried!

RHMFT says that he wants to explain himself.

A-man is sending me threats. I got this text message from him this morning:
"Do not involve yourself in anything further or bad things may happen. This is not a threat but you should treat it as one."

He's crazy. And now I think I'm going to have to call my lawyer.

Let's see, so to date:
I've broken up a marriage,
Unwittingly become an adultress,
and been threatened by a Canadian.

Not exactly what I bargained for. Now, I really have a mess on my hands!

I'll be filling in more details later, but right now, I have to go get a TRO! Laters!

"I prematurely shot my wad and I have something of a mess on my hands!"

2006-10-12T09:37:00.000-07:00

(That's from Arrested Development. I, unfortunately, didn't come up with it on my own.)

Okay, so after I wrote the long treatise about my failure, I received a text message from...wait for it...I know you're not going to be able to guess...A-man. Geez. He said he missed me.

sigh.

I realize that some of you are probably shouting for joy at how my experiment is going horribly awry. I never expected for anyone to actually fall for me! It's all in good fun, right? Right?!

Apparently not.

Keep in mind that A-man has actually only seen me in person 3 times. 3 TIMES!!! Oy vey. Last night he called me and made a statement that might lead one to believe that he is falling in love with me. (Oh. holy. jebus.) Also, he said, he can't stop thinking about me, he's totally falling for me, he totally digs me, blah, blah, blah. Obviously, he's deranged. Who falls in love with someone they've only seen 3 times? Who, I ask you?! I mean sure, I fell in love with T.O. even before I met him, but that was, like, a one in a million thing...

Okay, so, now I'm just a tad panicked because I never intended for there ever to be any real emotions involved! It's all for fun! Just for fun, everyone! Guys, no seriously...It's just for fun... no one's listening...

BUT - there's still more to this story: so yesterday afternoon I'm walking to my salon, which is right by the gym where both RHMFT and A-man work. (It's also where my ex-boyfriend works out, but that's neither here nor there...) Usually, RHMFT runs me down and we chit-chat about what-not and then he says he'll call me at some point or something or other, but YESTERDAY was different. Right outside my salon, as soon as I turn the corner, I see A-man sitting outside the cafe, with his son and a woman. I act like I'm daydreaming until I'm right beside them.

"Oh, hi!" I say. "How's it going?" I'm terribly nonchalant.

"Hey, Queen! How are you?" A-man says, trying to be as nonchalant as I. "This is my son, Cage, and my wife April."

sonofabitch. I keep my cool. I mean he told me that he was married, but he told me that it was a "fake" marriage, so that he could get his dual citizenship, and that he has to make it look convincing, so that he's not found out and deported. Suuuure. It looks like you're pretty "real" married to me. So, I make nice. I smile and make about 2 minutes of small talk. Then I walk into the salon and immediately call BFF. Holy cow. My knees are shaking and I'm a bit flabbergasted. I'm also still a little high off of the fixative we used on our chalk and paper drawings in school that day. We discuss what to do. We decide that it's best to just not say anything until I can make a face to face confrontation, that will hopefully be messy and dramatic.

Whilst in the salon, A-man sends me a text message: "Can you feel the love in my fake marriage?" I don't even know what to say. I reply, "yes..." I felt like the ellipses made my response more open ended or mysterious...or something. I mean, but what was I supposed to say?! Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, something like, "You're a crazed maniac" might have been appropriate.

So, I'm still on the phone with BFF, so we can kind of be walking out and facing the potential problem together, like BFFs should. And before I even make it out the door, there sits RHMFT!!!!

It's the perfect storm. (Hallelu!)

I tell BFF what's happening before I get out the door, so that once I'm out the door, we can pretend like we're not talking about the person in front of me. We're pretty slick.

I sit with RHMFT a while and we talk and chat and laugh like old, dear friends. What fun!

A-man is sitting not even 50 feet away with his "family." From the corner of my eye I could see him checking me and RHMFT out. For reals.

So, is it a coincidence that all of a sudden A-man is "in love" with me? Probably not. Just like I predicted, he feels like he has to compete with his friend for my attention. He's surely not as hot as RHMFT nor as charming nor as put-together. But, he is way more sensitive...like a woman. He's also way more married - that is...as far as I know.

Now, I guess I can say, "Mission Accomplished." Except for now...now I have something of a mess on my hands.

Mission Unaccomplished

2006-10-10T10:36:00.000-07:00

After just a week, I have failed miserably! And I'm not even completely sure what I did! Last Tuesday is when I started all the trouble that I described yesterday. What a glorious plan it was indeed!!! Between Tuesday and Friday, I got about 40 text messages from A-man!! He was crazed!

He kept saying things like, "I miss you" and "You're so awesome" and "I can't stop thinking about you!" I'm not joking. They just kept coming! I thought, "Man! I have this in the bag! I'm so fabulous!" I knew that I could keep this going for at least a good month. I was sure of it.
Friday, I got text message after text message from A-man. Also, to make matters a bit more complicated, I went on a date with RHMFT and he came over to see me earlier that morning. I was exhausted.

Then came Saturday. My phone was unusually silent. I think I got one text message from A-man. One. I knew something was awry. My BFF was in complete denial, "I'm sure he's just busy." But he wasn't busy Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday?! That's hogwash!!

Soooo, yesterday, I got a text message from A-man. He said good morning. I messaged him back. He told me that my scoundrel ex-boyfriend was in the gym. Like I cared. He asked me if I told said ex anything about us.

What? Said anything about "us"? What "us"? There is no "us"! This is the extent of my relationship with A-man: I went to watch him DJ last Thursday night. He came over to my house for like 15 minutes and we barely even kissed for like MAYBE 2 minutes. I don't even consider that making out! But whatever. In my book we were just friends. Mainly because he has two children by two separate women and apparently got married to get his citizenship....even though he's from Canada... don't they pass out citizenships to Canadians at the border? But whatever. That's not the point! The point is that we were just friends!!! That's the point.

Yesterday, he told me to call him at noon. I did. He kept asking me if I told RHMFT anything. I said no, not really, but it didn't matter anyway because RHMFT and I were just friends. (I didn't mention we were the kind of friends who made out.) I also told him, it wasn't like we were doing anything, so I didn't quite see the need to be sneaky.

You see, I wanted them both to know that I was seeing the both of them so that they could compete against each other and I would win! See?! It was so simple. And I thought it was going so well....but alas...

Last night, A-man told me to call him, so I did. He didn't call me back. I sent a text message. Nothing. No calls from RHMFT nor A-man. Not a sound. Not a peep.

I guess it serves me right, though. When I did this in college, it turned out so much better for me! What happened? Oh, well. I didn't really dig either of that much anyway...

But all I wanted was some trouble!! Some drama! Somebody confront me and call me a bitch to my face! Anything! I'm so bored!!!!!!

I can't believe it's come to this. I can't even start trouble on purpose! How has this happened? And to ME?!

I've gotta go rethink my strategies... and find some more willing victims.

Let the Great Experiment Begin!!!!

2006-10-09T08:26:00.000-07:00

I know that I said that I totally kicked the really hot man from Trinindad (or RHMFT) to the curb, and I did. But, as I was talking to my BFF the other day, she had the bestest idea EVAR!!!

Me: So, I'm kicking RHMFT to the curb.

BFF: It's probably for the best. Even though he is really hot.

Me: I know. It was hard to let those rock-solid abs go. And man...those biceps! Hot damn! But, a girl's gotta do, you know?

BFF: You're right. What an idiot he was for talking on the phone to ANOTHER girl right in front of you. Even if it was his sister, he should know better.

Me: For reals. What a dummy.

BFF: But, hey, didn't his best friend try and holla' at you that night that you and RHMFT went to the club?

Me: Yeah. He totally did. It was super-strange.

BFF: Okay, well what if, instead of totally kicking RHMFT to the curb, you start a little trouble?

(My ears perk up. There is a vital history that I must inform you about here: Whenever my BFF tells me to do something, no matter how ridiculous or stupid, I do it. One time because I followed one of her suggestions, I ended up smelling like dead deer carcass. But, you see, it doesn't matter. And as long as I live, I will be constantly following her suggestions. She has good suggestions! Seriously.)

Me: Some trouble, eh? Like what kind of trouble??

BFF: Well, why don't you see what happens if you start calling RHMFT's friend? You know the one that tried to come over to your place the night you went to that club with RHMFT?

Me: Oh, you mean, A-man? (A-man is not his real name, by the way.)

BFF: Yeah, A-man. Well, what if you dated both of them at the same time?

Me: Hmmm.... yes. That could cause A LOT of trouble.... I'll do it!!!!

Now, I know you're all thinking, "Queen, this is a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad idea! Don't do it! You'll be sorry!"

And you may be right, but I failed to mention that I've done it before and it really didn't end that badly. And while I was in college at the time, I seriously doubt that most guys really mature that much in just under a decade. But that's not the point!

The whole point of this mischeivious plan is for me to get a lot of attention while doing to guys what they do to girls worldwide. Now, I'm not going to keep secrets from either one of them. If either of them want to know if I saw the other, I'll be truthful. I won't tell them the EXTENT of what goes on, but I'll let them know that I am indeed in contact with the other. (I'll just be omitting the juicy parts.)

My prediction is that these two guys will end up being just as silly as girls are with boys who give them the run-around. We'll see. That's what this experiment is all about!! What's gonna happen? Who knows?? But whatever happens, it will probably be messy and dramatic. AND WHO COULD ASK FOR ANYTHING MORE????!!!! BWA. HA. HA!!!!