The Universe, The Cool Factor™ and Puppet Strings

The other day when I was at my shrink appointment I was describing to Lynn how when I met Cop Friend that I was focused on the faded Dad jeans and the bad hair. I told her I kept thinking to myself, "I'm an asshole." I thought that because I knew I was being shallow, therefore, an ASSHOLE. She made a comment on how "abusive" I was to myself. That was like a pimp slap compared to some of the stuff I think to myself! I'm not sure that we addressed a more positive way for me to handle the thoughts. Next appointment. I have been through enough therapy to take a stab. Here goes:

• Gentleman walks in. I observe Dad jeans that go up to mid belly. I think to self, "my, those jeans are unfortunate. I believe they are what the kids refer to as Dad jeans. I bet he hasn't had a woman to help him choose current clothing in a while. Hmmm...I am noticing I am judging him on superficial things. Perhaps I should give him a chance and look past the faded, Erkel looking jeans."

I told Lynn I knew I was putting out a not interested vibe. She has issue with any references to the "The Universe". She wants to know what The Universe looks like and wonders if there is someone in the sky with puppet strings making people do things.

We talked about what my expectations are for the guys that I would be interested in. She asked me for an age range--I said my age (45) to 55. She then said let's talk about what those guys look like. She started at the head and went down. She said they may have thinning hair, may be gray, a pooch...you get the picture. It was fairly depressing. She said they may have been married for years and have no idea about fashion. They may have on sucky shoes. I replied "I'm 45 and I'm not like that." She said I was focusing on the "Cool Factor." Oy.

I left feeling kinda dejected. I decided to call Cop Friend. In retrospect ,I think it was like a dating Hail Mary. I had gotten the harsh feedback that I could be in relationship if I really wanted one and that I was looking for the cool factor. I didn't like hearing that. Because. It. Was. True. 

I left Cop Friend a nicetomeetyouhappyholidayscallmeifyouwannagettogether voicemail. There! 
I could check that off my list:

• Make effort with dating. CHECK.

It was a couple of days before Christmas. I did not hear back. I didn't care one way or the other. Polly told me she wondered if it was because I didn't immediately find a pen and paper to give him my number when he asked. She wondered if he left feeling bad because he didn't leave with my number. She is very analytical and wants everyone to be happy (which is why she is my friend). I told her, "I'm not going to feel bad about this!" As the days have gone on, I have convinced myself that I was callous with a fragile man...(Sounds like a Fiona Apple song, except I think she says "Careless with a delicate man") then I woke up. That is bullshit. I firmly believe in the written word of the sacred text, He's Just Not That Into You, and I quote:

"if a guy wants to be with a girl he will make it happen, no matter what."

I could analyze and feel bad and analyze some more. In the end, I wasn't attracted to him. Ironically, Polly had asked Cop what Cop Friend said after we met that night. Cop told Polly he said "perfect." She talked to Cop yesterday and said, "did you know Penelope left Cop Friend a vm?" He told her that Cop Friend was having a hard time with the holidays--(his ex was in town) and that he realized he was not ready to start dating. Okay, I could be like my old wacky self and make that about me and berate myself for not digging him and writing my number down OR I could be self actualized and realize that is his stuff and silently wish him well.

I wish Cop Friend well.

The King's Speech

Great! Colin Firth rocked it.

Ugh

My friend GBS sent this to me today. It pisses me off on so many levels:


An Internet law designed to protect the stealing of trade secrets and identities is being used to levy a felony charge against a Michigan man after he logged onto his then-wife's Gmail account and found out she was cheating. 

Leon Walker, 33, of Rochester Hills, Mich., is being charged with felony computer misuse, and faces up to five years in prison after logging into the email account of now ex-wife Clara Walker on a shared laptop using her password, the Detroit Free Press reports.

He is facing a Feb. 7 trial. Leon and Clara Walker's divorce was finalized earlier this month, the Free Press reports.

Clara, who was married twice previously, was having an affair with her second husband, as Walker found in her email, according to the Free Press. The second husband had been arrested earlier for beating her in front of her young son from her first husband.

Walker was worried about more domestic violence from husband No. 2, so he handed the e-mails over to the child's father, the Free Press reports. He promptly filed an emergency motion to obtain custody.

Leon Walker, a computer technician with Oakland County, was arrested in February 2009, after Clara Walker learned he had provided the emails to her first husband.

"I was doing what I had to do," Leon Walker told the Free Press in a recent interview. He has been out on bond since shortly after his arrest. "We're talking about putting a child in danger."

Oakland County Prosecutor Jessica Cooper defended her decision to charge Walker, calling him a skilled "hacker" who downloaded the material in "a contentious way."

Electronic Privacy expert Frederick Lane told the Free Press that the case hinges in a legal grey area, and the fact that the laptop was shared may help Walker's cause.

About 45 percent of divorce cases involve some snooping -- and gathering -- of email, Facebook and other online material, Lane said. But he added that those are generally used by the warring parties for civil reasons -- not for criminal prosecution, the Free Press reports. 


http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2010/12/27/national/main7189082.shtml

Pushing Buttons

Do you ever notice that little kids love to push the buttons in an elevator? I can't tell you how many times I've seen it. When does that excitement go away? Today I heard a great story from a Grandmother. She was at her children's for Christmas. She went to go for a walk with her 3 year old Grandbaby. The baby wanted to carry an empty gallon milk jug with her. She told her Grandma that was her favorite toy. How cute is that?

Pushing buttons and milk jugs.

Carry On Baggage

"If you wanted to be in a relationship, you would be in one." That is what my shrink Lynn said to me last week. I laughed and she repeated it. She has an amazing memory. She doesn't take notes. She reminded me that I had said to her, "even the fat lady on Hoarders has a boyfriend". I said that months ago. 

She said it again, "If you wanted to be in a relationship, you would be in one." I didn't agree. We started talking about what I want. I said I was NEVER going to get married again. That I would be content to have a boyfriend to travel with, hang out a few nights a week, fuck, you know... Lynn told me that if that was what I wanted, that was what I was getting. She said no one would want to be committed to someone that NEVER wants to get married and is content to see each other a few times a week. I admitted that she may have a point. I said I really don't want to ever get married again. She clarified and it is more from a protection of my finances standpoint. I told her I would do the Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn thing. I can't recall the articulate shrink way she said it, but I was essentially told I am putting out a no commitment vibe.

I've been thinking about it off and on for the last week. I can't imagine ever getting the proverbial rug pulled out from under me ever again. It terrifies me. There is something to the fact that if I am not willing to take risks or put myself out there, (fuckin' hate that expression) that chances are I will not meet my Joe Dubois (who by the way has a new short haircut that I do not enjoy).

I have baggage. It is in a fashionable carry on, with the contents neatly organized,  but I have it. I was at a dinner the other night and someone close to me was texting under the table with his wife sitting next to him. It struck a nerve with me. They have a strong marriage and I seriously doubt he would cheat. It still bugged the shit out of me. First, I think it is rude as shit. Second, I think there is no one to text if you are at dinner with your wife and child. Only if you are a surgeon or the President. He ain't neither. I thought about me and texting. I have such a boatload of emotions around the whole cell phone thing. One of my neighbors is always outside talking on his cell. I drive by and think (he's a cheating mutha fucka). Okay, maybe the baby is sleeping and he didn't want to be loud in the house. The fact that his present wife (wife #2) is the woman he was having an affair with while he was married to wife #1 also leads me to my cheating mutha fucka conclusion, but I digress.  I've got PTSD with the cell phone shit. Okay, I've gone down a bunny trail,  but I'm circling back. Maybe Lynn has a point. If I close my eyes and really think about being in a relationship it terrifies me. I don't want to be the crazy girlfriend that freaks if a phone buzzes. I like eating Rice Krispies for dinner and watching 3 West Wing episodes in a row. I can't do that in front of a guy and get respect. Seriously, I don't think I would know how to act in a relationship. 

Princes and Tigers and Cowboys. Oh my...

My friend forwarded me an email from match.com.

Look at Golfprince15 with his little dog and beverage in hand while striking a Hugh Hefner pose. I don't know if you can see it--Tiger2929ace has on purple eyeshadow and mascara. Omanpenie_3z needs help in his selection of screen names.  Notice TexasCowboy0109 is currently separated. At least he is honest...

Click on the picture and it show get bigger so you can view the hunks better.

I showed it to my niece. She had never read match profiles before. We were howling. After looking at the pictures, we went to breakfast. We started to give everyone in the restaurant screen names. Try it--it is really fun. Here is the formula I think they use:

• Start with what they do or like
• Add in something to do with women or love
• Finish with a number that has significance to them

Examples: yoga4ubaby6523, Bucsrule6969, me4u317, tennispro4luv_23

I'm just shoveling horse shit

Do you ever heard someone say, "just be present" or "be in the moment"? I get it, but it is REALLY hard. The whole just be present thing is really pertinent to me right now. I am waiting to hear about a decision that is important to me. I will not hear until the middle of the first week of January. I find that I am often racing ahead with a to-do list in my mind or thinking about what happened last night, last week or even last year. I was talking to my friend Jilly the other day. She is the one I go to when I feel like I am spinning. She has several horses. She said she was in the barn the other day mucking out a stall. She said she just thought to herself, "I am shoveling horse shit." She didn't think about the Christmas gifts she needed to get for her boys, the grocery shopping, the party she was having the next night or the other things on her mental to do list. She stayed focused on shoveling the horse shit. 

I'm off this whole week. I can choose to obsess and spin on "what ifs?" or just stay in the moment. I will choose to stay focused on the horse shit.

A Christmas Without Dysfunction

What a concept! I actually had that this year. It was so nice--just little kids loving the day and family and food. 

When Neurotic Becomes Psychotic

There are times when being a neurotic, everythingmustbeperfect freak gets in the way. Last night for example. I had friends over for dinner and game night. I made gumbo (it is all part of the rehab--like getting my nails done at a Vietnamese place). There I was in the kitchen, sweating my balls off, getting ready to serve the gumbo up. Polly is to my left spooning rice on the plates. I realize in a spastic fit I had thrown away all my soup ladles, spatulas and big spoons a couple of weeks prior. There is high calcium content in the water. They come out of the dishwasher looking disgusting. I've tried vinegar and all the other tricks. I was so grossed out that I just trashed them a couple of weeks ago and thought I'll get more at Target. Note to self: follow through next time. 

As I was spooning up gumbo (with a fucking flat wooden spoon) I noticed there was not much more shrimp, crab or andouille coming up. FUCK. Another note to self: when doing a recipe off the top of your head consider, you are serving 8 people and plan accordingly. It all worked out, but things were a bit tense as I felt sweat trickle down my butt crack as I fished for shrimp with the wooden spoon.

Spellcheck strikes again: butt crack is 2 words.

I just put the finishing touches on the cranberries for Christmas Eve dinner. I used a rubber spatula. I told I friend I felt like Laura Ingalls Wilder must have felt. 

Allow me to share the kick ass Cranberry Goodness Recipe from niece Jackie.

Cranberry Goodness

1 BAG FRESH CRANBERRIES

1 MED. ORANGE, CUT INTO EIGHTHS AND SEEDED (LEAVE PEEL ON)

1 C SUGAR

2 RED JELLOS, ANY FLAVOR

2 C HOT WATER

20 OZ. CAN CRUSHED PINEAPPLE (drain juice)

½ C CHOPPED CELERY

½ C CHOPPED WALNUTS

BLEND 1^ST THREE INGREDIENTS AND REFRIGERATE OVERNIGHT.  REFRIDGERATE THE PINEAPPLE ALSO. 

                 

NEXT DAY STIR ALL INGREDIENTS INTO BOWL WITH GELATIN POWDER AND REFRIGERATE.

Reminds me, my older sister who I now shun, used to open Jello packets and just eat the dust. That sums her personality up right there...Happy Holidays!

The Punisher™ at the hair salon

I'm doing it again...breaking up with a hairdresser. I always make 10:00 a.m. appointments so I will be the first client and there is no risk of her being behind. I get there today at 09:55 and I sit down and look at a magazine. I have a Christmas card with a Nordstrom's gift card for her. 10:00. Maybe it's bad traffic. 10:05. 10:10. I look at my watch dramatically. 10:15. She walks in. Doesn't say hello. Goes to her station and starts to blow dry her hair. At that point I am SMOKIN' PISSED. I pick up the card and slide it back into my purse. I say to the receptionist, "does she know I'm here?"  She says yes. I do the WHAT THE FUCK hand motion. She goes and whispers in my hairdresser's ear. It is now mutha fuckin' 10:20. She calls me back and tells me her blow dryer broke at home. I nod and look at her reflection in the mirror. She goes and mixes my color. She comes back and puts the color on while telling me she has another client coming in and it works better that we started late so I won't have the color on too long while she cuts the other client's hair. At this point I am scrolling through my friends and texting them for their hairdresser's numbers. I'm thinking about all the times I sit there waiting when I'm the first client. I hate the way I end up drenched when she washes my hair. I don't stay in bad relationships. Why should I stay in this?

I pay. It looks good but not good enough to return.  I smile and say, "Happy Holidays". I walk by the receptionist without making my next appointment. 

The Punisher™ shall go elsewhere. Wonder what I'll get at Nordstrom's?