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?

To All The Douche Bags I've Known Before

Sing it like you're Willie and Julio.

To All The Douche Bags I've Known Before,

The red flags I saw no more,

The last one was a hog,

I dedicate this blog,

To All The Douche Bags I've Known Before...

One of my friends just emailed me and asked if she needs to worry when I reminisce on here. She added the caveat that the weird lying breath post was funny, but it was about (and I quote) the "douche bag". (By the way, my spellcheck just instructed me to make that 2 words. Note to self: douche bag is not a compound word). Fret not Dear Readers. I can write about said Douche Bag without feeling bad. It is like I am writing fiction but as I often say, "People, I can not make this shit up!"

70's Christmas Toys

My friend Polly and I were talking about toys from the 70's She brought up the Chrissy Doll.  You could make her hair longer and push something and it was retract and get shorter.

I told Polly about a doll that grew boobs. She didn't believe me. Ask Google and you shall find! It was Growing Up Skipper! People, I can't make this shit up:

I was a tomboy so dolls weren't my bag. I liked to cut Barbie's hair off and pierce her ears with the pins my Mom used for sewing with the colored balls on the end.

I LOVED Lite Brite! Lite Brite making things with light, dynamite making things with Lite Brite!

The best was the Easy Bake Oven. I may have been a tomboy, but it didn't stop me from rocking that thing and making brownies and cakes! I remember serving our delicious desserts to my Dad.

I worked with a guy several years ago that was married with 3 boys. His wife grew up really poor. She always wanted an Easy Bake Oven when she was little and her family couldn't afford it. It was the first Christmas gift he ever gave her.

Mr. B

A few days ago I blogged about Mr. B, a teacher I had in high school that was great and I wanted to write him a thank you (It was titled, "Turning Crazy Into Something Good"). I had written this letter in my mind telling how I turned out okay. When he knew me I was an angry teen that could of ended up being a waitress at Cracker Barrel her whole life.

I'm off this week and I have a to-do list. One of them was get Mr. B's address and write that letter. Sulie called me this morning. She gets an alumni newsletter every year. It said that Mr. B had died in September. I didn't write my letter in time. He has 1 child--a daughter named Molly that was a few years behind us in school. He was divorced years ago. I'm going to write the letter and send it to Molly.

Millionaire Matchmaker

I'm drawn to this show in a perverse way. Like a bad car wreck. Like Hoarders. Patti is a bitch. Here assistants are freaks. What does "I'm a third generation matchmaker" mean? So her grandmother set up somebody on the Titanic?

If Patti was a cartoon this is what she would look like:

The Smell of Lies

I send myself emails when I have a blog idea. I've had "The Smell of Lies" in my inbox for a while.

I have a really good sense of smell. I always do good at wine tastings, I'm particular about perfumes and I always know when a baby needs a diaper change on a plane. I don't know why, but I was thinking about how people act when they lie. I used to be able to smell it when John lied. I know it sounds crazy but he had a smell! 

Flashback with me to way back  when I was dating The Artist Formerly Known as My Husband™... I was visiting him in Louisiana. We were at the airport in New Orleans sitting at the Sonic waiting for them to call my flight. He looked at me and said, "when you get home tonight you will have an email from me. I want you to call me when you get home." I said, "Just tell me now." He wouldn't. I noticed his breath had a weird smell. Kinda sweet, kinda creepy. For my nurse readers--like the nasty ketone smell.

I didn't put 2 and 2 together since this was the first time I had smelled it. I flew home and got my email when I landed. John was telling me how much he loved me and that he had lied about being divorced. His divorce was scheduled for the next month. Haven't done this one in a while...Knock, knock. Who's there? RED, MUTHA, FUCKIN' FLAG! He was smooth. "I would have lost you if you knew I was still married, blah, blah, blah." You know how that story ended, BUT let's get back to the weird lying breath...

I noticed the weird lying breath a few more times. I didn't figure it out until the very end. Now that I look back I can list several times I noticed the weird lying breath:

• When John blew $2,000 at the craps table in the loser capital of the U.S.--Las Vegas.
• When he came home after "work" and he had golf hat head and sunglass tan. He had changed back into his suit. 
• When I got my American Express bill and he had charged $2,000 at Home Depot without telling me (and then did not have the money to pay it).

The list goes on and on. It smelled the strongest the night I figured everything out. My parting words to him were "your breath fucking stinks when you are lying!!!"

I think he was rotting from the inside out.

Conference Calls

Annoy the shit out of me. They are the same no matter what company you work for or who is on the call. Let me break it down:

• 5 minutes before start time.  Idle chit chat with the leader about the weather and football. I stay muted and think "you are all tools."
• Call starts--leader does role call. The same losers that are always late are not an the call. The leader asks people to call them and remind them. Wastes 5 more minutes. I stay muted and think "you are all tools."
• Late losers dial in. Multiple apologies such as, "I was with a customer" and my favorite, " I was on hold with the conference call number." I stay muted and think "you are all tools."
• Leader repeats the agenda that he or she has sent to you 5 different times. 5 more minutes wasted. I stay muted and think "you are all tools."
• Call finally starts. There are at least 2 people not muted. You hear, "Welcome to McDonald's. Would you like to try our super pig value meal today?"  and someone having a conversation with their neighbor about the upcoming block party. The leader keeps saying, "can everyone mute their lines?" while you hear the McDonald's cashier say, "That will be 6.51 please." I stay muted and think "you are all tools."
• The call hoggers (every team has them) butt in constantly and talk about what success they've had. It is usually the same story they told on the call last week. I stay muted and think "you are all tools."
• I entertain myself by texting the teammates that are part of my circle of trust. When my boss says "Penetrating the market" we write texts like, "He said penetration." I stay muted and think "you are all tools."
• The call is winding down and I hear a toilet flush and a dog barking. There is silence and then laughter followed by several beeps of people trying to mute their phones. I stay muted and think "you are all tools."
• The call ends and the leader says, "I will send you a recap." 2 seconds later my email dings with an email recapping the call we just had.  I laugh because they had to have written before the call. I stay muted and think "you are all tools."
• This usually takes up 60-90 minutes of my time. 

Laser Tag on the Balls

The post I did about Out of Town Liaison™ mentioning that he was considering having his ball hair lasered off brought up many comments from my friends. On my PenelopeBlogs Facebook page his sexual orientation was questioned. I just did a quick Google search on laser hair removal for the balls. There are some great comments:

I agree with the first one--don't do that to the "buddies". I've had my pits, legs, face and lady parts done. That shit hurts. I've been known to Xany down before an appointment.

Get What You Need

I got a voicemail today from my friend that lives in Chapel Hill.  Last year for Christmas I gave her a knitted beret and gloves where you could take the finger parts off and button them back (for easy texting, phone dialing, etc). They were quite sassy. We've been friends since college. She nicely said that she didn't think she would use them (they were fashionable, but maybe not so functional) and she exchanged them for something else. In her voicemail, she told me that she got up today and wanted to wear a hat since it was icy outside. She tried on all her winter hats and thought, "I need a beret". Yeah, like the fucking one Penelope gave me last year...and some fingerless gloves. We laughed about it today when we spoke live.

She said the moral was that you get what you need. Mick was right.

Think of that when you open up a gift this year that may not be exactly what you had on your wish list. 

Uncommon Goods

I like to order sassy things for the kitchen online. I then place them in my kitchen and gaze at them lovingly as a I head out the door to restaurants or prepare popcorn for dinner. My latest purchase came today:

It's color coded cutting boards in a file. How cool is that? There is one for vegetables, meat, fish and cooked foods.

http://www.uncommongoods.com/

IKEA

I went there for the first time today. No one told me I needed to medicate myself before I walked in. I had a feeling similar to what I experience in Home Depot--panic, desire to leave immediately and an inability to find the fucking check out. I was overwhelmed by all the choices. I never knew there were so many cheap lamps that I needed. And rugs. And wall hangings. 

It took me 15 minutes to find the exit when I was ready to go. I did buy a rug. And a light. And a wall hanging. I needed them. 

Law and Dating Update

I met my friend for breakfast. She said she asked Cop if Cop Friend was going to call me. Cop said they hadn't talked about it. She asked me what I thought or if I was upset. I am not waiting to hear from him. Lawd knows I've been putting the pleasedon'tcallme vibe out into the Universe. It made me think about what it is I really want. Cop Friend is on one end of the spectrum and Out of Town Liaison™ is on the other end. The big joke is on me, because I am shallow and focus on Cop Friend not looking the way I want and then Out of Town Liaison™ looks the way I want, but I would prefer that he not open his mouth.

I had made a list of all the things I want in a man a few months ago. I wrote it on a colored piece of paper and hid it under my lap top on my desk. I am sure my cleaning guy sees it every time he dusts. He is gay. He probably laughs (and agrees) when he reads, 6'-6'5", nice body, good proportions and in really small, sloppy writing: "nice big one." I do have mostly things that have to do with the inside and who the guy really is. I figured if I was making a wish list, I needed to be specific. It is like Christmas time when you are little. I didn't write "microscope" on my list for Santa.  I wrote the brand name, model number and the page it was on in the Sears catalog.

I just reread what I wrote. I used the word "want" several times. Maybe I should adjust to "need"...

Penelope Hughes

I understand people becoming hermits. I am off taking off starting this Friday until Jan. 3. I can't wait. I have the new Mark Twain autobiography. I'm reading the new Steve Martin book. I have The West Wing queued up in Netflix. Give me a box of Cuties™, books, and shows and I am good to go. 

Ew

I saw the out of town guy (I shall refer to him as Out of Town Liaison™). Don't think I will go down that road again. It wasn't bad. It just wasn't good either. I found that I was thinking to myself of things that bugged me. Why don't I list them?:

• He didn't shave. Anyone that knows me, knows I have the most sensitive skin in the whole world. It takes me days to recover from kissing someone that hasn't shaved.
• He told me he gets manicures. Ew. I prefer they do it and just not tell me...
• Ironically, he knows his jeans and was not sporting mid stomach high,  Dad jeans. He even commented on the ones I had on, "are those True Religion?" He told me he recently bought a $300 pair of jeans. Another Ew. Penelope don't like men that know more about fashion than she does. You're probably saying out loud, "make up your fucking mind, Penelope! You can't get past the nice guy in faded Dad jeans and now you bitch about the guy that spends 300 bucks on jeans???" I know. I'm fucked up.
• I saw that he had shaved his chest. Wasn't that way last time. Did I say EW?
• And ladies and gentleman, drumroll please...he told me that he was thinking of getting the hair on his balls lasered. Balls. Lasered. I sense that is some type of offshoot of the ManGroomer™ species.

Words with Friends

If you know what I am talking about you understand it is like crack! It's an app I have on my phone and ipad. Kinda like online Scrabble. I'm in a tournament right now. You can play at your own pace. It becomes cracky when you are ahead and you want the other person to play so you can kick their ass. It pisses me off how it censors some words. I wanted to use "pubes" the other day. It would have been a triple word with double letter for the B.  It wouldn't accept it.

I found it in the dictionary. I was robbed.

pu·bes  (pybz)

n. pl. pubes

1. The lower part of the abdomen, especially the region surrounding the external genital organs.

2. The hair that appears on this region at puberty.

3. Plural of pubis.

The West Wing

I am totally hooked on that show. How did I ever miss it when it was on? I have been getting the DVDs from Netflix. I'm like a crackhead. I watch 3 and 4 in a row. If the new disc doesn't come fast enough, I order it on itunes. I remember when it was on I thought, "that show looks stupid and Rob Lowe is a tool." (actually his "scandal" makes people like Elliott Spitzer and John Edwards look like choir boys--p.s. remind me to blog about Elizabeth Edwards after I warm up).

Someone needs to tell me what shows competed with The West Wing. I can't believe I never watched it. It doesn't matter what your politics may be. This is the BEST SHOW EVER. Aaron Sorkin is a GOD.

Johan at Ocean Prime

Sulie and I went to celebrate the holidays at Ocean Prime tonight. I drove the Mini. We had to valet. I left Johan in the car in the fetal position. I really disrespected him by leaving him in a crumbled ball in the console.

When we came out he was like this:

Obviously the valet driver understood that Johan needed to be upright on the emergency brake in a position of authority.

Notice that I was unable to get a good photo at night. He kinda glows like the skinny, creepy vampire guy when he's in the sun.

How To Deal With Hot Flashes

It is 37 degrees in Tampa. I get home tonight and I am thrilled to find that my heater is not working. The thermostat is blank. I flipped the breakers. Nothing. I go outside with a flashlight. There is no ice and the unit mocks me with its impotence. I call my neighbor that has his finger on the pulse of all that is home maintenance. He has a guy. I call the guy. He will be here at 0700. In the mean time, I have put on long underwear, a wool top, a sweat shirt, flannel pj bottoms and I have 2 blankets ready for action. I have also turned on the self cleaning function on my oven. My house will smell like shit but I will be warm!

Boycotting Stuff

I'm all about boycotting. I broke one of my boycotts on Sunday. It was the Tahitian Inn. I swore I would not go there anymore. The service had gotten so bad I could not take it anymore. What got me back was the fact that south Tampa has very few good breakfast restaurants. I tried it. The service was good. I'm back (for now). Another boycott I broke was Walgreen's. They pissed me of in Louisiana. I can't even remember what it was--it probably had to do with a toothless Cajun. I also reneged on my Chick-Fil-A boycott. My love for an a.m. biscuit and coke overrode my disdain for the lady in the drive-thru.

Here are some boycotts I will not bend on:

• Walmart: I can not give money to a store that is responsible for such fuckedupness of the economy. I can't tell you how many sales people I sat next to on planes while they were on their way to and from Bentonville. They told me stories that made me sick. The book The Walmart Effect will curl your toes.
• Wright's Deli: They put things on their billboard that should be left unsaid. I don't want to know about their politics. I will get my turkey on rye elsewhere.
• Pei Wei: I've given them 3 chances. I'm done. If I want to get treated like shit by a 20 year old girl it will be on my terms. 
• United Airlines: They suck ass. Planes always need maintenance and they lose your bags. 
• US Air: Ditto.
• Yellow Cab in Tampa (and most cities): They try to rip you off by acting like they don't know where they are going to get a bigger fare.

Turning Crazy Into Something Good

Isn't it crazy how the mind works? I had a conversation with my friend about guys in uniform. I said it does nothing for me. She said it was hot. I go to the store and I see a bunch of guys in fatigues with Navy on the front. I thought "ugh". A couple of them had wedding bands on. One of them gave me the once over and smiled. I stared back at him with a blank look. I thought you are all probably a bunch of liars and cheaters. It was a gross generalization on my part that all men in the military are liars and cheats. Then I started thinking they don't need a uniform. Maybe it is all men are liars and cheats. I think we all know where that came from!

I came home and thought about sending off a cheerly little holiday email. I figured I could cut and paste and tailor it for the respective recipients--something like:

Merry Christmas Fuckwad, (this greeting works for all)

I wonder if your (wife, girlfriend, mistress) has figured out that you are a liar. 

How does it feel when you look at your (sons, daughter, baby)?

I still think you are a piece of shit.

Love,

Penelope

Fortunately I have deleted the email addresses of all the AssClowns worthy of receiving that email.

I decided to turn that frown upside down and thought about who I could write a nice note to instead of a venom filled, wacko email:

• Mr. B.-- My 10th grade English Lit teacher that came and looked for me when I ran away from home after my Mom found my birth control pills and called me a slut.
• Judy--The lady that worked at the answering service with me when I was 18. She gave me $20 when I was really broke and had no money for groceries. I heard she had a stroke a few years ago.
• Cleopatra--The lady that used to help my Mom when we were little. She would read me stories. I never understood why the stories were different every time when she read them to me. I realized later she was illiterate and she made up stores according to the pictures in the books. When my father died my Mom found a sympathy card in our mailbox with no address or stamp. Inside it just had a single "X". It was from Cleopatra.
• Miss Addison--The best 1st grade teacher ever!

Last Minute Christmas Shopping for that Special AssClown

Are you like me? Do you dread going to the mall and prefer shopping from the comfort of your own home? Here are some ideas for that special AssClown:

Want to remind him and his new lady just how small his penis really is? How about a case of Vienna Sausage!

What about something for the man that only cared about manscaping when he was cheating on you? I suggest the ManGroomer™. Now discounted due to so many bad reviews.

Suspect your AssClown is cheating? How about Cell Snoop as a little gifite for yourself?

Law and Dating Part Thrice

Previously on Law and Dating

Friend had gotten Cop Friend to tell very personal story about his oldest daughter. We were speechless while shoveling chili in our mouths.

Thursday night 2030 Hours

I sensed that Cop Friend was a bit uneasy telling such a personal story. The conversation switched to questioning suspects and how to tell if someone is lying. Friend's son came home and we chatted with him a bit. We ate some fabulous apple pie that Friend made. Cop said he needed to get back out to work. Cop Friend said he would also need to get going. He had to get up at 0400 for work. Friend walked into the kitchen and left me alone. I walked Cop Friend to the door and said the typical nice to meet you stuff. He hugged me goodbye and asked for my number. I told him that Cop would get it to him (I had no pen and paper and it was freezing at the doorstep). We said our goodbyes.  

Thursday night 2130 Hours

Friend and I sat in her living room debriefing. We discussed the getting his baby daughter story. She asked what I thought of him. I told her how touched I was by the story and he was super nice. I said I was embarrassed to say that I wasn't attracted to him.  The super tall, thin thing is not my type. Throw in weird light blue Dad jeans and I'm kinda done. She asked why I gave him my number. We discussed the insane pattern of me (and ~98% of all women) being attracted to the not so nice guys. Friend astutely pointed out that the guys that were the opposite of Cop Friend weren't really working out for me. I had to agree.

Objects in Mirror are Dumber Then They Appear

Sometimes I am amazed at the volume of dumb shit I do in the course of the day. Here's the highlights from today:

• Decided to curl my hair with curling iron to get one more day from blow out. Watched in mirror as I turned iron towards my face and it had contact with my cheek.
• Wore open toed shoes to Publix when it was 40 degrees outside.
• Agreed to play online Scrabble with my friend's brilliant attorney sister. She is kicking my ass and is 100 points ahead of me with 10 letters remaining.
• Went into bookstore to buy 1 thing. Left 200 bucks lighter.
• Decided to remove a splinter in my hand by myself. I'm a nurse after all. I used a sewing needle. Now in much pain. Contemplating going to Tampa General ER.
• Watched 2 back to back Criminal Minds. Broke my promise to self of no more violent shows. Now I'm sitting here with the alarm on at 2 pm on a Saturday.
• I put on glasses this morning and wondered why I couldn't see. They were my sister's.

Law and Dating Part Deux

Previously on Law and Dating:
Penelope agrees to meet Cop's friend over a casual bowl of chili at Friend's house. We left off with footsteps coming up the walk.

Thursday 1915

It was just Cop. No cop friend yet. He was coming in his own car. Cop Friend arrives 2 minutes later. He walks in and we shake hands. He is probably 6'2 or 6'3". The first thing I notice is very faded Dad jeans. Oh my GOD--am I really this shallow? What the hell is wrong with me? I date/do men with fashion sense and they are all (and I emphasize ALL) frickin liars. Cop is on his break so we head to the table after some initial chit chat. I guzzle my beer. My friend begins to pummel Cop's Friend with questions. Kids, marriage, life. Cop laughs and comments that friend should be a cop. Cop's Friend tells us about his daughters--19, 23 and 26. Friend says, "you must have started young!" He replies that he did and he just turned 50 (we had gotten some bad intel on his age description from Cop). He explains that he was married 24 years. It comes up that the 26 year old was from a first marriage. He said he was young and his first wife was in trouble (pregnant and later some type of addiction issues). The marriage ended and he got custody in Kentucky. The ex moved to Illinois with the baby and would not let him see her. He tried to reason with his ex and her parents. He had rights and they would not listen. He told us the story that he and his Father drove to Illinois. He had a key to the ex's parents' home. His Dad had the car on the hard road. He had to walk down a long drive. He turned the key and opened the door. He forgot about the 2 little dogs. Miraculously, they did not bark. He walked to the baby's room. She was not in her crib. He crept down the hall to his ex's room. The baby was in bed with her. He picked up the baby and the ex never woke. He slipped out of the house and started to run. His daughter woke up and never cried. He said she just stared at him. He described her looking at him in the eyes as she bounced up and down while he ran to the car. I was speechless. They got past the state line and got the baby home safely. His phone was ringing as he walked in the door. It was his ex's Dad. In the end, he raised the little girl. Her mother (note lower case) only made an effort to see her 2 times in the last 25 years. I listen to this story and I feel really bad for focusing on his bad jeans.

To Be Continued...

Law and Dating

Ever watch Law and Order? Imagine this post is written like an episode of the show. After each paragraph hear the noise they use in your head. In case you are not familiar...

On the local police department there are men planning a blind date. These are their stories...

Wednesday afternoon Dec. 1

One of my friends is dating a cop. Last week he asked her if she had any single friends. Apparently one of his co-workers is ready to date after being divorced for a couple of years. She is very creative and put together an email describing 4 of her single friends (no pictures).

Wednesday evening

You guessed it--I was included in the email. Friend and Cop began to plot. Cop decided to narrow it down to the 2 of us that did not have children (blog for another day). It was then narrowed down to me (based on other non-disclosed variables).

Thursday a.m.


Friend calls me to see if I am interested. She tells me he is late 40's, has 3 adult daughters and was married 26 years. His wife left him for another man. Friend says, "I think you guys have the same battle scars." I listen and notice that I am fairly unenthused. I think about out of town liaison guy that will be visiting soon...again, unenthused. It scared me. Do I not care about boys anymore? Have I talked myself out of the whole man/woman thing? I say, "I hope I don't sound shallow, but I would like to have an idea of what he looks like."

Thursday afternoon

Friend forwards me Cop's iphone contact picture for his friend. It is small and hard to see. I realize the Cop never asked for a picture of me. I decide I am being a dick. I told friend that yes I would meet Cop's Friend.

Weekend of Dec. 4 and 5

More strategizing. Friend asks me if I wanted to meet him alone, go to her house, have a "chance" meeting while we are out---there were several scenarios proposed. It was decided we would get together at her house for dinner. As you know, I was at my national bullshit meeting this week. I didn't think about it much until the day came.

Mid-day Thursday Dec. 9


Friend texts me about "date". I find that I am not looking forward to it. Not in a dreading way--in a I could just stay home and eat Clementine oranges while watching The West Wing disc I just got from Netflix.

Thursday Evening


I get to friend's house at 1845. Cop and Cop Friend are due to arrive at 1900 hours. She tells me that Cop told her that he met his friend at Panera earlier today. Apparently Cop Friend was nervous. I find that to be cute. Friend asks if I am nervous as she hands me a beer. We sit on the sofa and talk while we wait. I see a white cop car glide in front of the house (cop was on duty and this was his dinner break). Cop Friend was off duty. My hands began to sweat as I heard the footsteps approach...

To Be Continued...

If you blog does it mean you are a narcissist?

One of my friends sent me a link to another blog. He commented that my posting rate had dropped off. Many others have asked me why I don't write as much as I used to write. It's funny...I have started to wonder if I wrote too much. I worried I may come off as a narcissistic whiner. I have even toyed with shutting it down since I am coming up on a year of blogging. 

I still have all the shit in my head. I just haven't been writing it down as much. I've also noticed since I've been on Pristiq, I am less inclined to sit down and bang it out on the computer. I'm not sad anymore, but I'm also not real motivated. I'm not sure it is a fair trade off. I know I'm still funny (exhibit A: Johan). I've just really slowed down. 

Seriously, I wonder if writing all this stuff about me, me, me is narcissistic? My Mom was really big on being humble...almost to the point of me being really shy and having zero self esteem (that is a blog for another day). When I first started, several folks told me they couldn't believe how much I wrote. It made me feel kinda embarrassed. So maybe it is good that I have slowed down thanks to the wonders of Pristiq.

There is good and bad to everything. Good that I am not depressed. Bad that I am happy to stay home and read all day. Good that I don't ruminate as much. Bad that I could give a shit if I meet a guy or have sex. 

In the end, it has been very helpful to be medicated. I sat through 3 days of a bullshit meeting and kept my mouth shut. I felt no remorse in putting Johan in various poses and taking pictures with my phone. It is even weirder that no one asked me what the hell I was doing...

Johan only likes the best restaurants...

I was able to have idle conversation about shit that I couldn't care less about. I did 2 presentations. I smiled. Thank GOD for Johan and Pristiq.

Johan at the National Sales Meeting

Johan was in attendance at my national sales meeting this week:

He got hammered and was really inappropriate:

Word is he was written up and is now on a performance improvement plan. The team tried to cover up for him. As you can see, things got really out of hand.

Here he is printing his boarding pass:

Johan Nathaniel Mypantz

I would like to introduce a new member to my posse. Johan Nathaniel Mypantz. He came into my life a few weeks ago when I was on a girls weekend with my sister and my niece. Apparently he was part of a dollhouse that was purchased at a garage sale. 

Say it out loud--Johan N. Mypantz.

Here he is at the hotel:

Notice his strong arms and Nordic good looks. 

He loves the ladies:

He also enjoys the outdoors:

Lame Duck

I'm starting this one without having a title. I'm sure it will come to me. Later this month, my out of town liaison will be in Tampa. We've arranged to meet. I am not feeling very excited about it. Nothing against him. I just feel numb in that area. He sent me a text that said, "I can't wait." Oh no. I couldn't write, "me too!" I pussed out with a generic (:

Lame, I know. I am not flirty when we talk. I don't have it in me. 

Here are the wacko thoughts that have gone through my head:

• Great, I've lost it. I'm going to become that woman that talks to her animals and eats frozen dinners in front of the TV every night. 
• I wasted the best years of my ass and I can't get them back...
• My battle scars (as my friend Polly calls them) have created an impermeable bubble around me. 

Or could it just be that he is not my type? 

I feel like I'm in limbo. Thanks to extensive therapy, I really feel like I've worked through the bulk of the John shit. I did the prove to yourself that you are attractive even though your pig ex husband cheated dating/sexing thing. I've done the hermit thing. 

That is how I came up with the title "Lame Duck". I feel like I'm coming to the end of my bitter session. The out of town liaison can be the last little thing I do while I'm in office (pun intended). 

The Online Etymology Dictionary quotes Thomas Love Peacock who wrote: "A lame duck is a man who cannot pay his differences, and is said to waddle off."

It traces the term's journey into the political sphere in the late 1800s through President Abraham Lincoln, who has been quoted as saying that a "senator or representative out of business is a sort of lame duck. He has to be provided for."

Being Good at Something You Don't Like

Is it possible? I think it might be. My company is having a national meeting this week. I've been chosen to do 2 presentations. I feel like a fraud. Don't they know I can't stand what I do? Am I a fraud? I don't ever say things like, "boy I love this." I do what I'm asked to do. I'm polite. I only bitch to a select few. 

If I'm good at something I don't like I wonder how I would do if it was something I loved?

Punishing with Kindness

The Punisher™ made an appearance yesterday. Thanks to the wonders of a serotonin and norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor, she was kind. I turned on South Dale Mabry. You Tampa folk know this is a hellish road with stop and go traffic, narrow lanes and tons of accidents. I see a mom mobile pas me. It's a SUV with all the bells and whistles. A FSU license tag and FSU stickers on the back window. I notice the driver is a woman in her late 30's. She is staring at her phone and texting as she drives down the road. I can see a toddler in the baby seat in the back. Instantly, The Punisher™ comes out. I get next to her at the next light. She is still messing with her phone. I beep my horn. She looks at me and I make the motion for her to roll her window down.  She rolls her window down. I out my hand over my heart and said I was not trying to be rude, but I noticed she as texting and not watching the road. I said I bet she didn't even realize. I said it scared me particularly since her baby was ion the car. I reminded her of the possibly of a horrible accident. She thanked me. She smiled. We waved and went on.  Punishing with kindness. Who would have ever thunk it?

Baby

Jennifer Grey won the dancing show (I don't watch it--I only know from the front of magazines in the checkout line). People always tell me I look like her when she was Baby. I even have a t-shirt with the famous quote on it. It's the reason I came up with the title of my blog (even though I got the exact quote wrong--"Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner":

It's the nose. The same nose that inspired an idiot that I used to work with to say to me, "Penelope, are you Jewish?" Then she followed it up with telling me that when she first met me she thought to herself, "Great, Jeff hired a Jew." I told her I wasn't sure how to respond to that and suggested that she go up to her room to sleep (this was after dinner and she'd had quite a bit of wine). Ugh. She is no longer with the company, but I digress. I am critically Caucasian. That was my first experience with anything like that--it sucked. What if I was Jewish?

Back to the woman that played Baby in Dirty Dancing. Sister has had some work. I used to tell my Mom I wanted a nose job. I would read in Seventeen magazine how to do your makeup to make your nose look thinner (it was bullshit). I would stare at it in the mirror every night. I would look at the side view. It sucked. My Mom used to tell me I would grow into it. She was right. I'm not sure when I came to terms with my nose. Maybe when I was in my mid 20's. 

I don't think Jennifer Grey came to terms with her nose:

Donation Army

It's the bell ringing time again. I go into the grocery store and the Salvation Army guy is there was the annoying bell. 

Way back in nursing school...my first professor was Pat B. She told us that when her husband served in Korea the Salvation Army would charge the soldiers for the coffee they served. I have never thrown a dime in the pot with bell ringer after hearing that story. 

Pat B. was the same professor that requested that she be with us the first time we had to wash a penis because of the delicacy of pulling back the foreskin and putting it back the right way (lots of the older patients were not circumcised). I always think an uncircumcised dick looks like a monk.

Reburse Bycology

My sweet little 3 year old nephew has learned about reverse psychology. One day he wasn't doing something my niece wanted him to do. She said, "Whatever you do, don't eat the rest of that grilled cheese." He looked at her and she explained it was reverse psychology. She didn't think about it after that. The next day he said to her, "Whatever you do, don't kiss me on the neck" and then he put his neck out and said, "reburse bycology!" Now he runs around starting things with, "Whatever you do...don't (insert desired outcome).

Whenever someone is not doing what you want--lay some reburse bycology on them!

Funny How the Mind Works

I woke up this morning and the first thing I thought of was John. I could see his head (the one I used to love) that now resembled a big orange, round basketball. Flashes came into my mind of him yelling at me after I contacted Pao, seeing the boys bawling when I went to tell them goodbye and saying goodbye to Aunt Francis. Aunt Francis is John's Mother's sister. His mother was deceased, so Aunt Francis stood in like a surrogate Grandma. I could see her crying in my mind just like the day Sulie and I went by to say goodbye (and yes, I was well juiced with Xanax). 

I started to wonder as I lay (or did I lie) in bed with my fists clenched remembering all the shit from 3 years ago. Why was this coming up again? What triggered it? I started to put it together.

Today is Thanksgiving. Sulie is making Aunt Francis' sweet potato recipe. Side bar about Aunt Francis. She knows a little bit about cheating. She found out her husband was cheating when her kids were really little. She was convicted of killing the mistress. Apparently she disposed of the body by making the body into smaller pieces (I'm trying to be subtle) and placing them in a hefty bag. She never spoke of her time in jail. I only knew the story from John. She was very nice and loved the boys. When I told her that I drove to Pao's house just to talk to her, Aunt Francis replied, "I would have done more than just talk!" Okay, Francis' sweet potatoes = Trigger #1.

Last night I watched the movie One Hour Photo. It is several years old. Robin Williams (the artist formerly known as Mork) played a wacko that works in a 1 hour photo department. He becomes obsessed with a family and finds out the husband is cheating. There is a scene where the wife realizes her husband is screwing another woman. I watched the actress' face. I was transported back to the night I drove back to Lafayette after I read the text. I haven't thought about that night in forever. Note to self--no more cheating movies. One Hour Photo = Trigger #2.

Night before last, I got a text from a number I didn't recognize. It said, "Thanks for the card and the call. It was appreciated." I thought about who I had sent a card to lately. My aunt in Pennsylvania that doesn't own an answering machine, let alone a cell phone. My neighbor that just had to put his dog to sleep. I hadn't called him though. I wrote back my standard reply, "I got a new phone. I'm sorry I'm not sure who this is." No reply. I emailed my neighbor and asked him for his cell number. He replied with the number and added "no heavy breathing". The number was different than the one I had gotten the unknown text from. (p.s. I have no interest in heavy breathing with the neighbor). I forgot about it until last night. Then I had a brilliant idea. I have a Blackberry for work that I use for email. The phone works on it, but is does not have voicemail set up. It has a Seattle area code. I dialed the unknown number to see who answered. Ring, ring, ring (excellent, I'm going to get voicemail) then the voicemail starts, "Hello, you've reached Dillhole. Please leave a message." I hung up. So weird. I sent him a card and left a message months ago when his Father and Mother died. Who knows what triggered that text. Things ended so badly with him--all around cheating.  I am confident this was Trigger #3.

So I figured out why I was having John flashbacks. Now what do I do to make them go away? I just sat here and thought of all the things I have done in the past 3 years. I moved back to Tampa, I had back surgery, I got laid off, I went back to school and finished my bachelor's, I bought a house, I got a job, I reconnected with my niece, and I'm even closer with my sister. 

Basketball head is a speck.

Who's this?

Have you ever sent a text to someone and got the reply, "Who's this?" That is a euphemism for:

• You're not important enough for me to have saved your number
• We are no longer friends--I deleted your number
• I'm so fucking lazy that I never save numbers

It sucks no matter which one it is. I usually save the no longer friends or I don't want to see you again numbers just so I know who I'm dealing with when and if I get a call or text. I am much kinder when I receive texts from unknown numbers. I usually write something like, "Hi, I got a new phone. Who is this please?" Little do they know I am the Queen of all that is Techiness™ and I have contacts saved in 3 places....

I had the joy of using my line the other night. It was a guy that I "saw" a few times when I first moved back to Tampa. I had deleted his number because I figured I would not talk/"see" him anymore. I used my line and he replied with his name. I then said something like, "oh, I had deleted you." It was awesome. He requested that I save his number. You guessed it--gone.

Build it and they will come

My friend went to get a bikini wax the other day. She commented that she didn't know why she bothered.

My reply, "Build it and they will come."

The flu

I had it. At first I kept telling myself (and everyone else) that it was a bad cold. When I couldn't get out of bed for several days in a row I realized it was the flu.

My friend Polly said she knew I was really sick when she came over to bring me soup and I had on an outfit that didn't match.

My sister forced me to take a shower. It took all my energy to wash my hair.

I'm still really tired.

*I lost a shitload of weight.

Redecorating

I decided to change the look of the blog. The dark background bored me. I'm not sure that the sunny background with thistle blowing in the wind works with red mutha fuckin flags. I'll try it out for a while. Tell me what you think.

Holding it in

I've been reading about Clarence Thomas' wife leaving a message for Anita Hill asking for an apology. Many of my readers may not even remember the whole pube and the coke can scandal. It happened in the early 90's. Penelope synopsis--Clarence picked for Supreme Court. Comes out in his hearings that he was a perv and he made a comment about a pube and a coke can from an attorney that used to work with him (Anita Hill). There was much time spent on the hearing. Pube jokes abounded. Twenty years ago and his wife decides to call Anita now. How weird is that? 

I was worried because last week was the 3 year anniversary of reading the infamous text from Pao and I had a fleeting thought to email him/her or both and to ask them how things are going.It was fleeting. I know that if I send an email (even if it is beautifully crafted) I will look like a major wackjob. The same thing goes for the fantasy emails I write in my head to Spencer and SOB. I bet everyone is walking around with the "I should have told him/her _____________." I would love to tell Spencer that his eyes reminded me of a serial killer and SOB that he was really boring. With John and Pao, I would just want to thank them. 

Twenty years. That is a lifetime of resentment. 

The Evils of Social Media

My friend G sent me a link to an interesting NPR story titled Can Social Media Break Up a Marriage?  I had missed the story so I was thrilled to get the link:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130897679

I've blogged about this kind of thing before...I truly believe that technology will be the main reason for our downfall. I keep my Facebook account for the blog based on feedback I've gotten from you guys. I seldom log on and I don't comment much. I will look at my friends pages occasionally to see pictures of their kids. I really don't miss it. I think it is necessary for advertising and guerilla marketing. How else will some fabulous publisher find me and take me away from my bullshit job?

There is something to the whole texting, IM'ing, emailing thing. In the story on NPR the comment is made that with texting you can send a message to someone without their spouse or significant other knowing (I flash back to John telling me that he was texting his boys when he was really sending I love you texts to Pao). It makes it easier to reach out and start those conversations. It is less intimate than real life conversations. I used to have a friend that 90% of her communication was via text. It exhausted me and left me feeling like I didn't matter. She is no longer a friend. I bet she is texting right now. 

I think back to college with the "when is he going to call me" feeling. Now girls will send something stupid like "whatsup? as they wait for a text instead of a call. There is no intrigue. 

I just read through the comments after the story. There are the typical comments from others who had been cheated on and a few that thought the story was lame. I think the guy's last comment is similar to how I feel:

Yet Green says he's wary about another intimate relationship. He wants to trust again. Every time a girlfriend texts someone else, he can't help but feel suspicious.

Where Have I Been?

Let's see...

I went to Washington, D.C. for The Rally to Restore Sanity and then my sanity buzz was killied by....

An email on Monday morning letting me know that the big boss man from the company that just bought us wanted to work with me on Thursday. 3 days fucking notice. My bowels turned to water and...

I called in lots of favors with customers and got a great day set up and then the big cheese guy emails me and says he has to be back at his office by 2:30 for a meeting so....

I scramble and switch around appointments as I field calls from my co-workers telling me things like, "you're the first rep he is working with--it is all on you", "don't fuck this up" and (my favorite from my friend Eric), "I'm rooting for you."...

Wednesday night I woke up with chills, covered in sweat. There is no calling in sick when working with the big cheese. I got up at 0530 on Thursday morning and fortified myself with cold medicine, tons of makeup and a xanax (a winning combo I might add)...

I met Big Cheese™ (he has now been capitalized and ™). I shook his hand thinking (I wonder if I should tell him I'm sick?...nah). We had a great morning as I dazzled him with my clinical knowledge and selling. He pummeled me with questions and I had all the answers. I had 2 bags--one was my purse and the other a bag I keep studies in. This way when I walked into appointments both my hands were full and I didn't need to shake hands (I have some integrity--I wasn't getting my customers sick). Then we got to the appointment with the fat italian guy...

This guy is usually ok. From the northeast. Very abrupt but reasonable. He only sees the reps he likes. Short story long, he was in a crummy mood and started giving me shit about contracts and market share. I stood up to him. We sparred. It's what I do. It was tense. Jokes were made. It was fine in the end. We had a break after that appointment and Big Cheese™ suggested we go to lunch. We get in my car and he tells me, "You frustrated that customer and you should have been quiet and just listened." I listened as he told me about the art of listening. I waited until he was finished. I was driving so I stared straight ahead. I said, "I'm embarrassed to receive that feedback from you, but I respectfully disagree." I had told him about the history with this guy and how he once told me I had "moxy" (a compliment). I said if I sat on my hands he would not have respected me. I thought to myself (fuck you dick). Thank GOD for cold medicine. At this point I am sure the xanax had worn off. I didn't need drugs. This guy was out of his league. When we walked into an operating room he was like a kid at Disneyworld for the first time. He had asked me lots of basic questions. He had worked for the same Stepford wives pharma company for 24 years...

We parted ways after lunch. I went home and got into bed without removing makeup or bra or shirt. I collapsed. The next morning I got this email from him: .

Thank you for your time and the professional manner in which you represent (I am blocking product name).  You provided me with valuable insight.  Best wishes for continued success and a successful close to 2010 business.

That's where I've been...