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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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*

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.

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!"

(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

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.

All Holy Sacred Week

Every year, my family and my best friend's family rent a cabin together on the Frio River. It's tradition and it's so, so, so much fun! I stay in my bathing suit all day, and then get in my pj's at night and make s'mores. It's indulgent, it's chaotic, and wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. This year, there will be four dogs, two children, one infant, two sets of parents, two married couples, me and my grandfather. Talk about chaos!!! And this year, we're having about 5 less people!!! If you thought I was crazy, just wait till you meet my family! And they don't even drink!! (I don't even want to think about what would happen if they did.) My brother's not coming this year, which is too bad, because he's the most fun. He's in Montreal. Traitor.

This week is the all-holy sacred week of the year. You are allowed to miss Christmas and even Easter, but don't you dare think about missing the River, unless you have a damned good reason...and after this year, I don't think we'll be accepting, "I'm out of the country studying architechture" as an excuse anymore. I'll be completely incomunicado (that's probably not how you spell it) as we're in the middle of nowhere. If you want to find out more, just google it! Otherwise, when you think of me, just know that I'm here:
wishing you were all there, too. Adding to the chaos.

I'm ooozing pharamones

So, apparently, if I were a piece of meat, I'd be the cut that all the guys want to eat. I can only attribute it to an unreasonable amout of pharamones. I'm not the most attractive girl on the planet. I'm not the thinnest, or the smartest, or the richest, or the classiest. So, I must give off some kind of scent that makes men think I want to have sex with them. Either that, or I look like I'm easy. (OMG! Do I look like a slut?!) There was a time in my life when I would have thought that was really cool. Now, it just makes me violent.

I DON'T WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU!!! I don't even want to hop into bed with T.O.! I'm serious!

Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned, dating, where a guy just leaves you at the door, and doesn't try to get into your pants or your bed? I enjoy sleeping alone. I like my space. And whilst, I probably don't mind a well-timed make-out session, nothing makes a girl feel more disgusting than a guy who tries to weasel his way into her pants and then doesn't call her the next day. When does cheap, meaningless sex get old for you men?! Well, as I've said before, I'm sick of it. Maybe I should date a missionary... do they date?

Equal Opportunity Woman

I was talking to my BFF yesterday and we were laughing about my make-out bandit days. The days when I would consistently have random make-out sessions with guys I didn't even know...or as I like to call them, the golden years. During this time, I really didn't feel the need to be in a committed relationship, and my life was a lot more fun. A LOT more fun. I'm still not really sure why I thought being in a committed relationship was a good idea, but I've now learned my lesson...the hard way.

Anyway, that's not the point. So, BFF and I were talking about the golden years and we realized that I had made out with at least one person from every race on the planet - except Asian. We debated a little on whether or not Middle-Eastern/Indian was a race, but since I've made out with a man of Middle-Eastern descent, it really doesn't matter.

So, what I've realized is: I'm an Equal Opportunity Woman. Martin Luther King, Jr. would be so proud. I do not discriminate based on race, creed, religion, or color! Sometimes, looks isn't even a factor!! I'm proud that I'm using my God-given gifts to bring about peace and unity! I can't believe I believed my youth minister when he told me that making out wasn't a spiritual gift, when, quite clearly, it is!!

However, there is still one problem: I've never made out with an Asian - and not because I haven't wanted to, I've just never been asked out by one. But if you are Asian and you want to help me out, just let me know!

Just know that I'm an Equal Opportunity Woman. There will be no discrimination in my caual dating or make-out practices. This is a promise! You can even get that in writing!

Okay. That's it!

Giving in to the gentle indiffernce of the world.

I'm fed up. Just sick of it. So, finally, after months of being in complete denial, I'm embracing it: my spinsterhood. The universe is against me. So, much like The Stranger, I'm just going to give in to the gentle indifference of the world. There's nothing left to do.

This is how it works for me: either the guys I go out with are complete emotional fuckwits, or I'm completely and totally repulsed by them, OR (and this is the real clincher) they'll be hot on my trail, I won't be that interested, and then because of their persistence, I'll think, "Well, maybe so and so isn't such a bad guy. Sure, let's date!" and the vagina runs the other way. This sucks. So, I give up. I give in. To the gentle indifference of the world. It's great.

But, the good news is, that whilst I may never, never, never, never, never know the joys of companionship, I'll be able to do lots of things that a girl in a commited relationship might find a little difficult.

I'll be able to wake up early to go run miles upon miles to train for that marathon I keep saying I'm going to run without being tired because no one will be trying to make sweet love to me! I'll be able to rent whatever movie I want! I'll be able to have random make-out sessions with guys I don't even know and won't have to worry about my boyfriend finding out! I'll be able to lust freely after T.O. without anybody saying stupid things like, "You don't even know T.O." or "T.O. has a girlfriend."! I'll be able to lie around in my underwear all day without anyone judging me! I'll be able to focus wholeheartedly on my career!

This is going to be great! Go me! I love spinsterhood! And let me just say thank you to all the emotional fuckwits, vaginas and repulsive idiots who got me to this place: without you, I'd be happy, contenteded, and completely unmotivated. Angry, bitchy, and driven is SO much better.

Oh, yeah! I'm American.

God bless America. I mean that. It's a great place. Sure, everybody hates us and we're fat and obnoxious and our economy is declining, blah, blah, blah, but very few of us DON'T use deodorant. And that's what makes a great. We smell good. Delicious, even, when compared to some. Body odor here in the US is frowned upon. Not so in French-Canada. Oh, no! There were smells that slapped me in the face whilst walking down the street. Not even in New York City have I ever, ever smelled such offensive and disgusting odors! And really, we all know that's saying somethin'! There was one incident, in which we were walking down the street, and with every step, the odor became increasingly more horrendous. I think my brother might have thrown up in his mouth. I just laughed hysterically.

You see, that's what I do when things get unbearably disgusting. I laugh. Hysterically. For a long time. Then I get weak in the knees and am rendered useless for at least two hours. I always, ALWAYS laugh at fart jokes. Guess which part I laughed the hardest at in dumb and dumber? You guessed it! That horrible, laxitive, massivie farting scene. It's true. I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is.

So you can imagine, the amount of laughter and thereby energy I expended while walking the streets of Montreal. I'm still recovering.

Bon Soir

Im in Montreal livin' la vida loca. But, la vida loca has limited internet access. Who knew? Will post pics when I'm American again.

Oh, yeah....

I forgot to tell you all that I let Italian ex-boyfriend wash my car. But that was it, I swear!

I'm baaa-aaack.

I'm back in Ada. That's right. Back in Ada, Oklahoma. Okla-freakin-homa. The weather actually is really nice here. But, it's 1:30 in the morning and I've been working non-stop since 8:00 am. Welcome to low-budget film making! I guess it's payback for all the time I've spent on the couch. I'll send pictures soon! I know you're all dying to know just what Ada is ALL about. I'm gonna give it to you. Get ready.

It's painful

Because he's just too cute.
Here's pictures of my baby Taraji when he was only 6 weeks old. If they don't make you hurt a little bit inside, then you probaby just don't have a heart.

See what I mean?

Tired of It

Are there no good men in the world?! Are they all either gay or married by now? Should I rob the cradle, finally give in to my next door neighbor who has been pursuing me ever since the last break-up, let my Italian ex-boyfriend really "wax my car", or maybe just become a lesbian?! I am so, so sick of it.

I mean, let's just be honest. All the guys I've ever dated didn't deserve me, because I'm hot and practically a genius. I'm good with power tools, and I love to watch sports. Also, I'm stacked. Do they really think something better is in store for them?! However, all the guys I've ever dated have treated me like they were God's gift...apparently to me. Ha! And I'm sick of it. Just sick. Sick and tired of love. Sick. Sick. Sick.

I give up. I'm tired of it. I'm just going to give in to my one true love: TV....and maybe T.O. At least I'd know up front that he was an ass. I think that would give me great peace of mind.

So, T.O. it is. T.O. and TV. Awesome. What could be better? Nothing could be more perfect. I'm excited about it. Go me.

Where the He11 Have I Been?

The answer to this question is two-fold:
1. In computer hell
2. At my parent's house

Why? I'll answer in sequential order.

1. I've been in computer hell because my computer is having a mysterious problem that no one can solve and that might eventually cause me to have to call one of those trouble shooting places that make everyone want to die. This has caused me to completely ignore my computer because I am disgusted with it. Technology is like an abusive boyfriend, however. No matter how much he beats me, cusses at me, and treats me like crap, I keep going back. So, here I am!! Hating myself even as I type this... I should probably seek counseling.

2. I am going on a couple of trips in the next few weeks and I need a safe, caring place for my precious, precious, wonderful, sweet, loving dog to stay. As some of you may know, my shrewed mother has been trying to get her hands on him ever since I birthed him...uh...I mean bought him. So, because they're free room and board, I gave in. But, I thought I'd get in a little visit whilst I was down south. It was fun! We went to the beach, I slept in (not that that's any different, but it was fun nonetheless), I hung out with my BFF, Taraji hung out with his BFF (my BFF's dog), I went to see Nacho Libre TWICE because OMG! Jack Black is the most hilarious guy ever and Nacho Libre makes me hurt inside it is so funny, I complained about how humid it was and in the same breath talked about how I like my hair when it looks like Diana Ross', and generally farted around and ate my parent's food.

If I can work up the energy and work through the general disdain I currently have for technology, I will post some pictures/video of my awesome, most fantastic adventures in South Texas. I know you'll all be holding your breath.

Television is Rotting My Brain

It's happening. I can feel my brain turning to mush. I watch so much TV, you'd think I'd have cable, but I don't. I've figured out a way to watch TV practically ALL day and be competely interested without forking over any money for cable. It's my way of stickin' it to the man since he took away my bootleg.

The flip-side of watching re-runs for a goodly portion of the day is theat it turns your brain into complete crap. It's difficult for me to just write an email!

All I would have to do is turn off the TV, but it is so, so hard! Maybe tomorrow I can just turn...it...off....

I may be about to go into a TV-induced coma. Save Queeniii! (from herself)

Drunk as a Skunk

I got drunk last night and threw up. It was miserable.
Fortunately, I don't have to work, so I'll be spending the rest of the day recovering.

High As a Kite

So, I've had this horrible headache the past couple of days. I attributed it to allergies, so I took a Zyrtec at 1:30 in the morning. I planned to get up at 9 am. I'd get plenty of sleep and what a day I had planned!!! I was so excited about it! I was going to get things done! Whoo hoo.

My alarm went off at 9 am. I found that I couldn't move. Really, really couldn't move. I thought maybe I just needed 10 more minutes of sleep. I hit snooze. My alarm goes off 10 minutes later. I find that I can't move. I think that maybe I just need 10 more minutes of sleep. I hit snooze. My alarm goes off 10 minutes later. I find that I can't move. I think that maybe I just need 10 more minutes of sleep. I hit snooze.

This continues for about an hour. I hit snooze one last time, but the alarm never went off again. Apparently, the snooze button runs out of energy. Damn, you, snooze button.

Anyway, I ended up sleeping until 11:30. I finally woke up and realized that I was as high as I had ever been. So high. Higher than that time...uh...I mean...what?...I've never inhaled anything illegal...

Folks, Zyrtec is the strongest drug I've ever taken - hands down! Forget the Ruffies, date-rapists, slip him/her a Zyrtec! They're much easier to get and you can claim you were just trying to help him/her with their allergies.

I had to stumble around for about an hour before I was ready to do anything! At least I caught one episode of A Different World. Because it's a different world from where you come from. Yes, it is now.

Ada

Where have I been? Ada, Oklahoma. And the guy who said that Oklahoma is OK! was exactly right. It's OK. just ok. nothing really more than ok. just ok.

Why did I go? I'm working on a film project for the Chickasaw Indians. How did I fall into this project? Let's just say acting a bit like Belle Poitrine wasn't completely unproductive. That's all I'm going to say.

No it isn't. Let me take this moment to say what a complete waste of time meetings are. I had to go to about 3 or 4 meetings whilst in Ada, and they were all worthless. We didn't decide anything, but sure did waste a lot of time. It was awesome. But, I guess I shouldn't complain because I didn't have anything else to do.

Here's something you should know about Ada, Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain: there are no sidewalks or crosswalk signs. Apparently it's against the law to walk around town. I almost got arrested for solicitation. Imagine that.

You Can't Even Be Serious

*sigh* *sigh* *heavy sigh*

please. say. it. isn't. so.

My love, T.O., has a middle name...and it's not Danger.

At first, I didn't believe it. There's just no way. It must be a joke - a cruel, cruel joke. I mean, people are always trying to get me to denounce my love for T.O., and I thought that this was just another way to try and make me say something I don't mean.

It is far more tragic than that, however.

T.O.'s middle name is...oh! this is going to hurt...his middle name is...really and truly - no lies - is Eldorado.

ELDORADO!!!!!!!!

I want to die. How can I ever be with a man who's named after a car?!

I'm going to have to go and reevaluate.