Mission Unaccomplished

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!!!!

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!!!!

Letter to Really Hot Man from Trinidad: We're done.

This is so hard. Because you're so hot. But you asked to come see me at my house and talked on the phone to some skank for 30 minutes, and then didn't even make a good excuse for your behavior!!! What the hell is wrong with you?!

It's possible that maybe you just don't know, so I'll give you the skinny: in this fair land called America, the one you currently live in, we consider talking on the phone for 30 minutes whilst you're the guest of someone else to be incredibly rude. In fact, if you were at Emily Post's house, she would have castrated you for sure.

In addition to the lengthy conversation you had IN FRONT OF ME, you also went out of your way to let it be known you were speaking to a girl. What? You don't remember? Let me help jog the memory of that tiny little brain of yours:
You said, and I quote, "Now, girl, when am I going to get to see you again? Or do you have a boyfriend that's keeping you in Brazil?"

You remember now, don't you? Because it's obvious that you know no better, let me break it down for you. First of all, she's in Brazil. Chances are, even if you were Brad Effing Pitt, she'd probably prefer Brazil to you. And since you're not Brad Effing Pitt, even if she doesn't have a boyfriend, Brazil is probably keeping her in Brazil.

Secondly: Wow. I am so impressed. I mean, really. You're dating other people besides me?! Really?! You must REALLY be quite a man.

Are you detecting my sarcasm yet?

Look, a real "playa" doesn't have to flaunt it. Before I broke up with T.O., I never talked to him in front of you. Because I didn't need to. I know deep, down in my heart, that I am one sizzlin' hot, grade-A, pimptress. I don't need to throw it in your face. You, on the other hand, are apparently not so secure in you pimp skills. Are you looking for some sort of validation from me? Are you looking for me to tell you how jealous I am that there is a possiblity that you might, someday, go out with some girl, once she gets back into North America. Well, it's not going to work. I hate to have to break it to you like this - especially since you are so hot.

But, history has shown us that even the hottest of the hot can be complete and total idiots. Take T.O. for example. He's hot. And totally idiotic.

You, apparently, are cut from the same cloth as T.O. And just as it saddened me to have to kick T.O. to the curb, it saddens me to have to kick you to the curb, but I have to. Any man who comes into MY house to see ME must give me all of his attention. ALL OF IT!!! I'll accept nothing less. So, I guess you just don't make the cut.

Please stop crying. You're embarrassing me.

C'est la vie. You'll find someone else who isn't nearly as fabulous as me, but who will put up with your little shananigins. Who knows? She may be closer than you think. Maybe even as close as Brazil.

Letter to T.O.: We're finished.

I'm sad about it, but baby, you know you saw it coming. Listen, I love your body just as much as you do, but I had no idea that you were letting your skank of a publicist LIVE with you!!!! Do you think I'm stupid or retarded?! I know what you're up to! You pig-headed man-whore! I can't take it anymore, so I'm leaving you.

Stop crying.

I know it hurts, but it's your own damn fault. Seriously. I mean, pills? Really? That's the way rich white girls attempt suicide. At least drive your Escalade into a barracade or something and really do some harm to yourself - so we believe you and you look kind of pitiful. Instead, you look like a ghetto, wimpy, pansy of a man who uses his unbelievably hot body to trick women (and apparently, some men) to be at his beck and call.

But, what really has me irritated is you firing your trainer who has put up with your stank @ss for 7 years!!!!! Not even your skank of a publicist has put up with you for that long. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO STARTED ALL THIS TROUBLE!!!! Don't fire a man for trying to justify your bizarre behavior!!! I hate you. I mean, I knew that you were pretty stupid, but I was willing to overlook it because you're so hot and talented. However, it's not worth it now. You're more melodramatic than I am. And that will never work. I have to be the most dramatic - ALL OF THE TIME!!!!!

Besides, I've been seeing a really hot Trinidadian behind your back, and while I may not know his last name, at least I know he's not shacking up with his skank of a publicist! So, it's over. I can't believe it had to end this way.

I hope that you get your act together and actually play for the Cowboys this year - I mean they've given you 25 million reasons to play, haven't they?

Oh, what joy is mine!

Don't you all see what is happening?! Don't you?!

I fall in love with T.O.
He acts a fool and gets kicked off Philadelphia's team.
He moves to downtown Everycity (right by me!).
His "fiancee" breaks up with him.
He tries to commit suicide (and actually does a piss-poor job of it, I might add).

Don't you see that all these events are leading to one climatic event in T.O.'s life??????!!!!! Which is: MEETING, (and therefore), FALLING IN LOVE WITH ME!!!!!! (Because to know me is to love me, but please don't try to reference any of my ex-boyfriends on that....except for the Italian one.)

Oh, what joy! What joy is mine!!!! It's only a matter of time, you see. We even live in the same general vicinity!!! And I saw a picture of the outside of his condo complex in the newspaper, so I think that I'll try to plant myself in his pathway. That is if I can get that skank that calls herself his publicist out the way. (I think what probably really happened is she slipped him a forget-me-now, but I have no real proof...) Sure, it might be a little psycho, but it is a nessecary evil if our love is ever to bloom.

However, I'll make sure not to break up with him right at the start of the season. I'm a saint.

T.O., this one's for you:

"Oh, T.O., you came and you gave without taking, and I want you to know..."

No one can say it like Barry Manilow can.

I've made a huge mistake...

I know you're all thinking that I'm going to tell you some disasterous story about that freak of a boy who emailed me to tell me, that, after several months of not talking to him, he was still desperately in love me....or maybe that he just still thought I was hot. (Incidently, I haven't heard from him - a narrow escape indeed!)

But, no. That's not my huge mistake. My huge mistake is getting involved with a Trinidadian who doesn't give out his last name. (As I'm typing this, I'm realizing even more what a huge idiot I am.) Now, to my defense, this Trinidadian is excrutiatingly hot. However, I'm typically a little stronger in resisting even the hottest of them.....wait....
no I'm not. BUT THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT!!!!

We've been "seeing" each other for a few weeks now and I still haven't gotten up the nerve to demand to know his last name or else no hanky-panky. What's wrong with me?

I'll tell you what's wrong with me, I'm neurotic and have a touch of OCD. I can't stop thinking about how I don't know his last name, and I feel that the only way I can bring it up is in a casual, non-dramatic conversation. But, how, oh, how, I ask you, can I possibly bring up a subject casually when I've been obsessing over for weeks???!!

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

And to heighten matters, he also appears to be practically perfect, meaning our life-philosopies seem to be closely related, we like to do the same kind of stuff, like the same music, are involved in the community, love children, but allegedly have none; have never been married (allegedly), are both very active, and have good senses of humor.
But this appearance of perfection is what has me so concerned. Maybe he's just a little too good, you know what I mean? Like, maybe he's a drug lord, or sells girls like me into white slavery, or he's really a serial killer, or he has nine wives, and/or 7 children.
What I mean is, there's gotta be something wrong with him, and as long as I don't know his last name, how can I run a criminal background check???!!! I'll even settle for a social security number.

See, I'm not picky...or psycho. Right??

I know that it's wrong, but I just can't resist

First of all, let me apologize for linking you to the wrong post yesterday. Sorry if there was any confusion, but now you know how I feel most of the time. I'll link you correctly this time. Promise.
So, anywho, I couldn't help myself. I emailed the freakazoid. You read his email in the last post. I know, I know. What's my problem, right? I'm always lookin' to start a little trouble - and I might have also felt just a little sorry for him. (If you need to reference his first email, check yesterday's post) So, here's what I said:

"Well, it depends on what you want me to be interested in. Of course I'd love to hang out and have fun and all that jazz, but I'm not really looking for anything serious right now. I hope you understand. If that's not really your style, then cool. But, if you think you can swing it, then of> course we can hang out!! You're an interesting guy, fo' so'!
Queen, III"

And then he wrote, and I swear I'm not making this up - I swear:

"Well I totally understand not wanting to beserious. I'm the same way. But I do think you're anice girl and a super hottie and if we got a littlekissy huggie I wouldn't read too much into it. Don'tworry I'm a big boy. But I am wondering if you thinkI'm nutty as a fruitcake because of all the crazystuff I said to you while we were making out at myapartment. That was all in good fun though I like tosay crazy stuff. What have you been up to? I've been rockin androllin. Got a new drummer (much better than the guyyou saw at the rehearsal) named Craig who's a supercool guy plus his girlfriend's super cool. We couldhang out with them sometime. also been playing golfand poker. I have to brag that I've been to the casinoin Oklahoma 3 times in the last couple of weeks and mywinnings are about $800!!! So I'm a pro poker playerfor the time being. Well hope to hear from you soon."

He's the lead singer of a mediocre band, thus the references to "rockin and rollin" and the drummer. And just in case you forgot about the "nutty" things he said to me, go here.
You won't believe your eyes, and you'll be asking yourself: what the hell is wrong with queeniii?

I wish I had an answer for you.

I don't even know what to say....

So, remember this post??? Yeah. You remember. Well, last night, I got this email:


Subject:
Hey I remember thinking...
Date:
Fri, 22 Sep 2006 6:36 PM

That you weren't very interested so I stopped calling,but if I was wrong I'd love to hang out again. Iremember telling Jared (the big red haired guy) that Ithought you weren't interested and he said you saidyou were when y'all talked at that party so I thoughtI'd write again.So let me know if you'd like to hang out. I'dcertainly enjoy your company if it's mutual!!

This is not a lie. I feel bad for him. But, I'm completly mystified and subsequently speechless.

Technical Difficulties

There's something wrong with my computer. It's making everything very difficult for me...like posting on my blog. Bear with me - I'll be back!

Why Match-dot-com was a Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Idea, Part 2

And we're back. To why match-dot-com was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea (for me), Part 2.

So, here we are at date number 2. This one isn't nearly as juicy as the first, but diverting, nonetheless.

His name: Eric

Occupation: some kind of sports supplement salesman

His gimmick to get into my pants: he had no apparant gimmick. (I know!!! Hard to believe, isn't it??)

Number of dates: 2

Eric was a nice guy. He was a BIG guy, but had played tennis in college. He was a body builder or something like that presently, but he also had a huge gut that you could tell he was uncomfortable with. I mean, if he was a tennis player, I'm sure that at one point he was incredibly thin. Have you ever seen a fat tennis player?? But, he was a pretty nice guy. So, we go out. He has a fairly decent sense of humor, but we have almost NOTHING in common and I spend the entire night scrounging for conversational topics. It was so exhausting.

He actually took me out to the nicest sushi place in town and spent a pretty penny on our dinner. We dined like Kings!!! We had the best wine, the best sushi, fabulous appetizers, and tremendous dessert. I was stuffed full to the brim! I think that we had planned to go to the movies after dinner, but we were so full that we decided to just go rent a movie and watch it at his place.

We rent a movie. We start watching the movie, and during the previews of the movie a Pizza Hut commercial is aired. I say, "Mmmm....Pizza." But I wasn't hungry, I was just trying to fill the empty silence with a little idle conversation about pizza, since everyone loves pizza, it's an easy topic, right?

Here it takes a tragic turn for the worst.

He says, "You hungry? You want to order a pizza?"

I'm dumbfounded. A pizza??!! But, we only just ate! I'm still really, really full of sushi and the dessert that I said I didn't want but you ordered anyway and I was forced to eat. I was just trying to make conversation!

I force a laugh, "No, silly! I'm not hungry! You just stuffed me full of fancy sushi!"

"Oh, come on! You're hungry, I can tell! I'll order a pizza for us." And he picks up the phone and orders pizza.

I'm so not joking. I think after the order was placed I made some jokes about what a big pig I was, mainly because I thought he was a big pig and I didn't want to accidently let it slip that I thought so. I know it doesn't make much sense, but it was all I could think of to deal with the situation. I had to act like it was me who wanted the pizza all along, because otherwise, I'd have to act like he wanted the pizza. And if I acknowleged the reality of the situation, it would just make everything so awkard, because then my subtext would be so obvious: "You huge fat-@ss. We just ate a bunch of sushi and now you want PIZZA?? Are you crazy??"

He was a nice guy, and I just couldn't be that much of a b!tch on the first date. We continued to watch the movie in somewhat awkard silence. The pizza came. We ate it. Even though my stomach was about to explode, I ate it. The movie was over. And here's the real clincher:
he didn't even try to make a move! I was perplexed, but figured I should get while the gettin' was good! Man, did I scee-dadle! I couldn't believe that he didn't try to stuff his tongue down my throat!! It was great! But, it didn't make me like him any more, unfortunately. I just kept thinking, "If I were to date him much at all, I'd be as big as a whale!! And everyone knows I like to eat, but even I have my limits!!"

We had one more date. It was fairly uneventful, or it must have been because I don't remember what happened. What I do remember is I never kissed him. Phenomenal.

We wrote a few emails and called a few times, but after that it pretty much fizzled. It was probably for the best, though. Who wants to eat themselves into oblivion? Not me. No, sir, not even me.

Men!! Oy Vey! (aka, Hauty Mutterings of a Cranky Spinster)

I know you're all sitting on pins and needles, just waiting for the next hi-larious entry about my misadventures on the match-dot-com, but today I mun' needs vent.

Men. *sigh* *double sigh* For reals. I understand, believe me, I DO understand. But really. Really. You're just all so lazy!

Yes, I know, I guess technically I can't lump you all into one HUGE
group, but today, YOU LEAVE ME NO CHOICE!!!
I'M SO FRUSTRATED!!! that I can't possibly focus my frustration into specifics.

The story is a familiar one: there's this guy, you see, and I like him more than I like most guys, meaning, I don't hate him. He wants to see me, so I, being the benevolent, gentle creature that I am (please stop laughing), rearrange my boring, yet full schedule, so that he can see me. Fine. I can do this. No problem. I'm an excellent time manager. In fact, I'm just an excellent manager. In fact, I'm just excellent. Period. Okay. So, I successfully rearrange my boring, yet full schedule to accomadate. I'm so, so generous and giving. Things are set. I'm a little inconvenienced, but you know, who cares, it'll be fun! Right?

Yesterday, I get an email. An email. From said boy. Basically it says that he's too much of a pansy to manage his time correctly and is now really stressed out and can't come to Everycity, blah, blah, blah. He's going to totally make it up to me, whatever, whatever. Now, I am slightly irritated by the content of the email, but I can certainly understand being completly stressed out and over-committed. I mean, we all remember the hullabaloo centered around this fiasco. So, I understand. But....an email?!! AN EMAIL?!! I was irritated. Grow a pair and call me. It might be more painful, but trust me, it is WAY more manly. WAY MORE MANLY. Don't be less of a man than me. I would have called.

Okay, so I'm irritated, but I work through it and call him to clarify. He elaborates on ALL the stuff he has to do. I choose not to mention here that I'm waking up at 5 am every morning to run miles upon miles and then go and teach 100 students every day. (Yet another example of my overwhelming generosity.) He concludes by saying that he's not sure if he's not coming, and it all depends on how much work he gets done in the next few hours. (Whatev. Just grow some balls and tell me that your not going to follow through so we can just get it over with.) He says he'll call tomorrow.

Fast foward to today. Lovely, lovely day. I woke up this morning thinking how nice it would be to spend the weekend all alone. Maybe do some painting and some movie hopping, take a little break from the running, watch some movies and sleep late. I, of course, was anticipating that said boy would call me moaning and whining about HOW MUCH HE HAD TO DO and officially cancel.

I get into my classroom this morning, turn on my computer, open my email, and there, waiting for me like a snake in the bushes, is an email. From said boy. I sigh a heavy sigh. He still hasn't grown any. I open the email. It is, as anticipated, his official cancellation. HOWEVER, I really, really thought that said boy would actually call me to officially cancel. But no. An email. AN EMAIL!!!! That is just one, measly step above TEXT MESSAGING!!!!! I HATE IT!!!!!! HATE IT!!!! just effing call me. Just call me. Just be a man and call me!!!!!!!!!
;laksjdf;liauwro;ijasd;lfna;slkjf;aslkjf;alsdjf;asjrf!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
don't make me crazy!!!! Don't make me write a blog entry about you. Please. I don't want to be like this. BUT YOU FORCE ME TO IT!!

Men, don't be lazy. And be brave. If you really want to get some, be manly. Most heterosexual women (and some not hetero) find that incredibly attractive. Manliness. Try it, you'll like it!

No, seriously.

TRY IT.

Why Match-dot-com was a Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Idea, Part 1

(ed. note: I already typed this post, and it was really witty and fabulous, but my dinosaur of a computer just up and decided to completely erase it. Its lucky that its school property and I didn't throw it out the window, for fear of having to endure a paycheck docking.)

Okay, so we've already established that my life is incredibly boring. And I have nothing to talk about. And while it is painful for me to have to do this, it is inevitably and completely nessecary. I'm going to have to...oh, this is so hard... delve into the past few months and share with you ALL my misadventures of online dating. That's right! All of them!! Queen, III EXPOSED! Er...well....you know....so to speak. (And yes, yes, Cach, I know. You were right. Online dating is creepy. You win. I lose. Again.)

Date 1: A man we'll call "Ray Salinas," because, actually that's his name. And you can even google him...that is if you're brave enough. I'm not.
What? Yes, I realize I'm giving his full name, but it's not like I'm violating HIPPA or anything!! Geez.

Gimmick to get into my pants: "You need an older man who can support you and show you the ways of love." (Seriously. I'm not making this up.)

Number of dates: 3

Ray was an "older" man, meaning he was much too old to go out with me, but he at least pretended to have a lot of money and bought me food and liquor and I was on the rebound...the perfect storm. Ray and I went on a few dates, and each time he spent what seemed like hours trying to convince me that I needed a man like him to "teach" me about the ways of lovin' and that he could also give me things and help launch my career, because he was so very connected. I considered this for about .25 second and then decided that having sex with an old, long-haired, closet case, perverted shell of a man wasn't worth all the fame in the world. He tried earnestly to convice me, helpfully reminding me that many young starlets reached fame by marrying their managers. Celebrities like Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, and Kevin Federline. I must admit the promise of fame was tempting, and then....I'd think about what I'd have to do to get that fame...it wasn't worth it.

A few weeks later, after Ray and I had stopped talking (or more accurately he stopped calling when he finally figured out he wasn't gonna get any), a girlfriend of mine signed up for match-dot-com and AS SOON as she did, Mr. Salinas sent her the SAME EXACT email he sent me when I signed up (notice he was date 1)! Creepy, no?
It read: "WOW!"

Double creepy.

And folks, I wish that I could tell you that this was the end of all the shameful goings-on, but, sadly, this is just the very, very beginning. Don't say I didn't warn you!

How Big of a Loser Are You...

when your mother calls you just because she's bored? Geez. I'm young. With a thriving career. And big knockers. And yet, and yet, my mother's life is apparently more exciting than mine. I'M the one she calls when SHE'S bored. My disciplined life is one big yawn and I've gotten so used to being bored that I don't really need to call anyone at the onset of boredom. But not my mother. No, not her. Her life is that exciting. And she knows that when it's not that exciting, she can always call her predictable, reliable, unexciting, spinster daughter for diversion.

I've hit an all-time low.

just a half-marathon? JUST a half-marathon?!!

Yes, all I do is run. No, seriously. I wake up 5 days out of 7 at 5 am. It's really not that bad, that is until it gets to be about 7pm and you're so freakin' tired you can't even muster up the energy to bake a frozen pizza even though you're really, really hungry. But, I have to do it. I have to. I'm going to run this half-marathon, even if it puts me in a coma.
But, there are some pluses to your muscles being constantly fatigued: you can get drunk really, really fast. Like 1 beer fast! What joy!! I'm a cheap drunk again!! I couldn't be happier than if T.O. finally acknowledged that I'm his one true love and all he ever needed. Okay, well maybe not THAT happy, but still. Remember the last time YOU were a cheap drunk? It was fun wasn't it? Remember?! A night out cost a lot less, didn't it? Man, those were the days! And I'm getting 'em back. I hope that it makes me a little less boring. I mean, since the make out bandit has hung up her cape, maybe the make-a-scene bandit can do some equally interesting damage...

My Weekend

Forky came over, the vodka was flowing, Thoroughly Modern Millie filled our hearts and ears, the batons came out.

Discipline = Boring

So, I've been living life on the straight and pretty narrow and whilst I feel VERY righteous, I'm becoming incredibly boring. My life is even starting to be boring to me. *yawn* I have very little to talk about, which, for those of you know me, IS PHENOMENAL!! Phenomenal, yet very, very boring.

I made out this weekend, but it was a guy I'd already made out with, so who cares, right? It doesn't count as a make-out bandit act, so what difference does it make? My cape is still hanging on that hook in the closet, along with my mask that doesn't disguise me very well at all. *yawn*

My next-door neighbor is still begging to sleep with me and I'm still refusing. Old news.

I go to bed too early to go on any dates. Boring.

I'm being really mean to all my students right now, so they won't run amuck later on in the year, so no one is saying anything ridiculous or cute like, "Miss Queen, did you know that painting looks like a woman's vagina?"

I'm exercising, going to bed early, eating right, walking my dog regularly, disciplining my students, not trying to duck out of work an hour early every day. I've hung up the make-out bandit cape. The only person who calls at night is my mother....and sometimes I call her first. My bestie's moving to New York City. I'm SO boring!!!

And you all know what that means! I'm probably about to stir up some trouble. I can't help it. It's a compulsion.

You know that part in The Grinch where he pulls that table cloth out from under the perfectly set table and nothing falls down? Then he walks away? And then three beats later, he walks back and knocks everything down and makes a big mess? Well, that's how I usually conduct my everyday life! And I like it! All this discipline is about to drive me crazy! I don't know what I'm going to do yet, or how, but just you watch! Chaos will soon ensue!!! bwa. ha. ha.

I know. I have issues.

I really didn't think this through...

So, I signed up for a half-marathon. I have to wake up at 5am every morning to go run for well over 20 minutes. I'm now incredibly busy. Remember this summer when my schedule was like this:
11 am wake up
11:05 watch a Different World
12:00 watch The People's Court
1:00 watch Judge Joe Brown
2:00 watch That 70's Show
3:00 hurry up and work out and then watch Dr. Phil
4:00 watch Girlfriends
4:30 do something just slightly productive whilst the TV is on
5:00 watch Bernie Mac
5:30 watch My Wife and Kids
6:00 watch King of Queens
6:30 watch That 70's Show
7:00 make plans with someone that involves alcohol
OR go to the mall
OR go moving hopping
OR go on a date with some absolute FREAKAZOID that I really didn't like anyway, but who bought my meal

Sure, the summer schedule sounds jammed packed with action, but really, I just sat on the couch all day. ALL DAY.

Here's my schedule now:
5:00 am wake up
5:05 am brush teeth
5:10 am take dog out
5:15 am put on running clothes and fill water bottle
5:20 am run a lot and sweat even more
6:20 am get back and stretch
6:40 am eat breakfast
6:50 am shower and rush like hell to get ready for work
7:30 am take dog out again
7:35 am leave for work
7:45 am play hall monitor for 20 minutes
8:20 am do school announcements
8:45 am start teaching
12:00 pm eat lunch
12:30 pm start teaching again
2:45 pm stop teaching, do extra school stuff
3:00 pm stand outside on the blacktop for 15 minutes, watching children, wishing I could just die before the heat kills me
3:45 pm leave school, go run errands
4:30 pm get home, tend to dog
6:00 pm eat supper
6:30 pm housework
7:00 pm return phone calls, mostly from my mother
9:00 pm get ready for bed

See?!!! This one is so much longer than the summer one! 5 am?!! What was I thinking...oh...wait.
I just stepped on the scale....NOW I know why I'm doing this.... I'm bigger than a Beluga Whale.

Keep your hands and feet to yourself!!

I say this about 500 times a day. No joke. However, it's a little hypocritical of me since I can't seem to do it myself. Well, I think that I probably keep my feet to myself, but sometimes it's hard to remember...

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, well, I think the make-out bandit is finally going to hang up her cape. I know some of you might be a bit disappointed, but do not fret! This doesn't mean in anyway that I'm never going to make out with anyone ever again. Far from it! It just means that I will no longer engage in random make-out sessions with any of the following: village idiots, regular idiots, psychos, socially retarded, the angry, gamblers, serial daters, anyone from match.com, the home-schooled, virgins, anyone younger than my brother, anyone less mature than my brother, the divorced, anyone with children, atheists, devout Catholics, jehovah's witnesses, military personnel, homosexuals, alcoholics, nymphomaniacs, narcissists, next-door neighbors, the maintenance man, AND preacher's kids (because I am one - and that would be explosive).

Notice I left football players off the list. That means T.O. is still, of course, fair game.

So there you have it! I already feel so... so... so much like THE picture of restraint. Look at me, getting off on being withholding!

I'm keeping my hands, my feet, my lips, etc. to myself for a while. I won't say for how long... just in case I decide that this is a horrible, horrible idea and that what the world needs now is love, sweet love, and I'm the one to give it to 'em. But I haven't decided that yet, so check in tomorrow to see if I'm still wearing a nun's habit.

Let the great experiment begin!!!
(okay, that's my last Arrested Development reference, I swear!)

Where Have I Been? Escuela.

That means school in Spanish. Because school's back in session!!! And for the first time in my life, I am SO excited. I spent the whole week setting up my classroom and getting things ready for my students who'll be there Monday. So, Don Boscoe, that's where I've been.

I hate that I've been such a fair-weathered blogger. I know how annoying that is! And, what makes it worse is, that I have some CRAZY stories to tell - for reals! I got this message from Don Boscoe:
"Where oh where have you gone? I came back to the great state of Texas expecting my new friend Queen to have exciting stories for me and alas, nothing since my return...what's the deal?? Were you abducted by aliens?? "

Don Boscoe, I've been here, right here, all this time! I'm never very far away, ever!! Then, I accidently messed up a bunch of stuff on my profile, but I've SO got it figured out now! THEN, my brother got back in from Montreal and THEN my mother came into town to bring him back home, but she decided she'd stay the whole weekend and THEN I decided I start training for a half-marathon, so I have to get up at the middle of the night just to be able to withstand the heat. But, I'm here for you! I'm here for ALL of you!! I will NEVER leave you!! EVER!!! I'm so serious.

So let me update:
Right now I'm watching some TV movie with a couple of the fellas from N'Sync and it's awful, but I can't stop watching.

Last week, I went out with this guy, you know the one I told you that I accidently made out with and he thought that meant true love? So, anyway, like the true idiot I am, I went out with him again to this party way up in an Everycity suburb. During the party, he kept coming up behind me and putting his arms around my waist like he had known me forever. I was completely repulsed and tried to get out of it gracefully, but he made it QUITE difficult. Keep in mind that he had only even seen me 3 times in his entire life!! It was weird.

Okay, so let's back track a little. Remember how I said that I had accidently made out with him? Well, that wasn't all of the story. During the "session," he kept talking, which, generally is a bad sign, but that's neither here nor there. He said many things, but the real thing of import that he said, was, AND I SWEAR TO JEHOVA, I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP, "I want to make you pregnant."

OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!!! He was serious. I was traumatized. And then, as if that wasn't enough, as if I wasn't already completely horrified, he said - IN THE SAME BREATH - "When are you fertile?"

oh. holy. jebus.

I left shortly after this horrifying incident, but the real clincher is I went out with him again!!!! I was obviously bored, or competely out of my mind. Or maybe, I thought, deep down, he was really kidding. Who would actually be retarded enough to say...those...things...i think i just threw up in my mouth.

Okay, so back to the party. I decide I HAVE to leave. I have to go. It was creepy. So, I'm heading out to my car. He's walking with me. (Naturally.) I get to my car.
"Thanks. This was fun." I'm lying.

He turns me around to face him, puts his arms around my waist and says to me:
"Let's make this the longest good-bye ever."

For real. I'm not lying. Who says things like this? I say:
"Ha! Ha! You're funny! I have to go."

I ease out of his death grip of love, peck him on the cheek (as a consolation prize), get in my car and get the heck out of dodge.

I haven't heard from him since. I think I must have hurt his feelings...but geez! This N'Sync movie is more fun than my date with crazy-loser man! So, I think I'll just count my blessings and not complain about the N'Sync movie... despite the commercials. I'm so noble.

Violated

The make-out bandit made an appearance again last night, but she thinks she's made a huge mistake. Most of the time, I use my super powers for the good of the land, and everyone's happy! But every once in a while, a guy comes along and the make-out bandit is too much for him. He is overwhelmed and mistakenly thinks that a well-timed make-out session means true love. *sigh* I've made a huge mistake.

Anyway, that's not the point. Every year at the river, I get severly injured the first tubing trip down. Always. Last year, I was propelled out of my tube by the power of the waterfall, flipped over on the rocks, hit my head and scraped all the skin off of my back. ...well maybe not ALL my skin... The year before that, whilst going down a rapid in my tube, I was forced up against a tree and knocked out of my tube. I had to go down the rapid without my tube and I thought I was going to die. It was awful. Naturally, once I survived, I had to go sit on the river bank and cry and make a big scene and say things like, "Don't tell my not to cry!! I almost died!!!" People stared.

So, this year, the first trip down the river was a HUGE success!! I wasn't hurt, not even once. I didn't even fall out of my tube! It was amazing! We all marveled at my success and thought that maybe, finally, I had overcome the curse of the river. What joy!

Fast foward to the last day. We're going down a different section of the river than we usually do. It was a lot less dangerous, so no worries! I'll be fine. We go down this one, mild rapid. Everyone else does fine! It's going to be great. There's no danger lurking in my immediate future, right? WRONG! bwa. ha. ha.

I'm going down the rapid, minding my own business, having a good time, when suddenly and without warning, a rock, apparently molded to the exact shape of my rear crack, slides up my ghetto booty and jams my tailbone up into my esophogus. It hurts so much I can't even scream. I just feel like I'm going to throw up. I get out of my tube and everyone looks at me. "What's wrong?! Are you okay?"
"No. I've just been anally raped by a rock. I think I'm going to throw up."

Incidently, I didn't throw up, but the pain of rock violation has lasted for days and days. It still hurts to sit down. I'm on Tylenol PM. It's serious. My rectum will never be the same.