A Dramatic Interpretation of My Thoughts from Snow Jam ‘11

Sunday – “They say this is really going to happen. Oh shit, I’d better get some ice cream.”

Monday - “Wow, this is really pretty. Look! Everyone is having so much fun outside. I love the snow.”

Monday Night – “I’m glad I’ve been teaching myself to enjoy absolute silence. Today was a good lesson in that.”

Tuesday Morning – “I’m going to get a lot done working from home today. Chin up, chest out, let’s go for a walk!”

Tuesday Afternoon – “Holy Crap! It is a sheet of ice out there. Why did I even bother going for ‘snow sexy’ I’m just the red-faced woman who’s dog keeps peeing in his own puffin vest.”

Tuesday Night – “Who knew? I can cook! Apparently, all cooking involves is throwing a bunch of veggies in with pasta, adding mayonnaise and a meat and cooking that shit. I am a total domestic goddess. Must update online dating profile to include ‘cooking’ as an interest.”

Tuesday Middle of Night –“Will work be open tomorrow?; I’m cold; I should really cut back on my recent mayonnaise intake; I feel like I’m visually fatter; Murphy snores a lot; Listen to that dumbass spinning tires out there; I wish I could sleep; I shouldn’t have taken up coffee drinking this week.”

Wednesday Morning – “SnOMG! What day is it? Where am I? Why am I thinking about trying to start a conversation with my neighbor through the wall? Why don’t I find that thought creepy? I clearly need to have human contact. I’m going to venture out.”

Wednesday 10am – “Listen to that dumbass spinning ti…wait that’s me. I have to go into the office. I have to speak to people and feel smart and good at something other than cooking, cleaning and washing my dog’s pee-soaked puffin vest. “

Wednesday 11am – “I am a total driving failure and road hazard. Thank God for friends with experience driving in this and for their willingness to meet me for lunch!”

Wednesday 11:05am – “Again, I’ve made poor shoe choice that focuses more on looking cute for the 10 other idiots walking down Peachtree than it does from keeping me upright. I’m going to bust my ass and break an ankle just like that poor tourist on the news. Man, the local media really rode that b-roll footage like a Thanksgiving Day float.”

Wednesday Night – “I can’t believe I just had a come apart over a bug. That’s totally out of character for me. Perhaps it is because the end of the world is occurring outside, and the bugs are coming in. I see this as more than a one-off incident. It is clearly a sign of the Apocalypse. I can’t take this anymore. Something’s got to give. Would it be bad for to call a needless departmental conference call just for human contact tomorrow? Sleep, take me quickly.”

Thursday Morning – “If I have to see one more newscast about this bullshit week, I’m going to scream. I might die alone and cold in this tiny condo. Have made third tuna casserole in three days and have sent 10th e-mail today filled with typos. I feel like I’m getting dumber and fatter by the minute. Should I update online dating profile to say ‘intellectually inferior’ and ‘big and beautiful’? Hold steady, Erin! don’t ruin your dating life because of cabin fever. You’re almost through this. You can do this. Why does it smell like cat litter in here? I don’t have a cat. This is it; the beginning of my mental break.”

Thursday, Noon – “Mmmm tuna casserole three is by far the most superior. Simple sophistication.

Thursday afternoon – “I’ve actually learned a lot about myself this week, and I've accomplished a lot of work. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to recap it or even put it in words. Perhaps I won’t even try. Nah, I’ll try. My nervous breakdown with DirecTV earlier this week earned me a free month of Showtime. I think I’ll acquaint myself. 89 days ‘til the cruise; 89 days ‘til the cruise. Hold, on Erin. ‘I’ll never let go, Jack.’”

Gems from Dating (Online-Dating Edition)

Several of you liked my first Gems from Dating (Atlanta edition). In fact, you liked it so much, you sent it to The Bert Show, and they read it on air. That was so flattering, and it made me decide that I should hold off on more Gems until I have a really serious one to share.

Thanks to SnOMG ’11, and the boredom that caused me to actually engage in the situation that has led to the new Gems, I present to you my second installment of Gems from Dating:

The 41-Year Old (except from one "learning" relationship) Virgin

I was minding my own business “checking my traps” (a phrase my sweet dad coined for online dating.) when I received a message from some tool. Clearly, I must be doing something wrong with my dating profile, because I keep snaring crazies.

In the spirit of full disclosure and fairness in reporting, I’m going to present my profile, followed by an actual e-mail exchange, capped off with what I really wanted to say but refrained from saying in case The Tool has a car, Internet sleuthing skills, and a desire to make a lady dress out of me.

Let’s start with my profile (AKA: Clearly, I’m asking for it):

Headline: Girl.Guy.Date. It's Simple

Profile Text:

I wouldn't say I'm a woman of few words, but given that everyone seems to say the same things in their profiles, I’m hoping my to-the-point profile is an easy read that gives you an idea of me.

The basics about me are...

... I’ve never been married and have very little baggage. I guess I’ve just been waiting for the right person and the right time.
..I don’t have any children, but I do enjoy them and I’m open to having them one day. Right now, I’m an aunt and take that responsibility seriously!
...I have a precious dog, Murphy. He’s hilarious and makes me smile each-and-every day.
...I’m close to my family and have a great group of friends – both of which I cherish.
...I’m a director of PR and live/work in the Buckhead area.
...Honesty, trustworthiness and humor are very important to me.
...I’m tall, have long dark hair, fair skin and I’m curvy.

I love…

… Hearing a song that reminds me of my childhood. When one comes on, I can actually see a scene from my life playing out in my head, and I love that feeling.
…Watching my dog gather up blankets on the floor to make himself a nest, stretch, clean his paws and other general dog cuteness.
…Accomplishing something I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do.
…Helping someone when they least expect it.
…Taking a bite of ice cream and letting it melt on my tongue. Same with chocolate.
…Singing, playing tennis, traveling, driving through the mountains.
…When your eyes lock with a stranger and you both have a friendly moment in passing.
…My job, my boss, my coworkers (I’m lucky, I know!).
…My family.
…My faith and where I’m at with it.
….Raising Arizona, Ruthless People, Oh Brother Where Art Thou?, Quick Change and other quirky movies
…Easy going, funny people.
…Confidence.
…Irony, like seeing an overweight man in a ‘No Fat Chicks’ t-shirt.
…Mix tapes with odd pairings like Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb immediately followed by Phil Collins’ Easy Lover.
…Rainy days.

I don’t really like…

…the sound of chewing.
…People who have a woe is me attitude.
…Judgmental, racist, or overly preachy people.
…Lady Gaga, Sugarland, Angelina Jolie
…When women call each other “Biotch.”
…When strangers call me “Boo.”
…When people call their elders “sweetie,” and “darling”
…Overly crowded and super hip places.

I’m really freaked out by…

…The feel of paper between my fingers.
… Dark water.
…Falling asleep on top of the covers.
…Scary clowns.
…Birds coming at me.
…The new breed of hippie.

I’m looking for…

…Someone who has a great sense of humor.
…Someone who loves his family.
…Someone who respects intelligence and humor in women.
…Someone who has decided what faith means to him.
…Someone who has a solid job and won’t be bothered by the fact that I have a career.
…Someone who loves dogs and kids.
…Someone who is likely to volunteer and help those in need.
…Good chemistry

Finally, because they say you should address this: Looks are in the eye of the beholder and chemistry outweighs looks every single time in my life. That said, there needs to be attraction. Ideally, I’d like to find a man who is tall, takes care of himself (not a total gym rat, but cares about his health), has a good smile, and has eyes that light up with that smile. Additional things that stand out: glasses and tattoos with a good story behind them (not one that you picked off a wall because “tribal tats are so cool”). Also, self-proclaimed nerds are always welcome!

If you are into paragraph-form writing, I can do that too. Just send an e-mail, and I'll dazzle you with my ability to use full sentences.

Speaking of e-mails. I appreciate someone who takes the time to send one. I also really appreciate someone who takes the time to go beyond “hello” or “what are you up to?” And, if you actually reference something in my profile, you will blow my mind. I figure, we’re going to have to talk at some point; why not start now?

Happy Dating!

Not perfect, I'm sure, but not a written from a forced hospital stay either. I change my profile a good bit. The stats and points stay the same, but as a PR person, I know you need to adjust messaging and creative to see what works. This was a new adjustment that had been going pretty well for a few weeks. But, there must be something in there shining like a lighthouse for crazy men, because yesterday, I got this:

*Editor’s Note: I haven’t fixed a bit of his spelling and grammar; he’s this smart on his own.

Tool's first e-mail (AKA: A not-so lighthearted introduction):

Being that girl.guy.date is simple.....how many dates, relationships, physical expereinces have you had over the last 17 years?

Best

My response (AKA: What in the crazy hell is going on here? I’m going to keep it classy, but let him know he’s crossed a line):

Hmmm, that's a loaded question if I've ever received one. If I knew how many dates I've been on the past 17 years, I'd be pretty lame for keeping track. So, a lot is the best I can give you.

Relationships I would consider deep enough to report on - 3.

Any woman who talks about her past "physical experiences" with a stranger is probably a little crazy, and might be a little trashy. That's judgmental, I know. But, that's my humble opinion.

So, to keep the loaded questions going, tell me about your conservative, old-fashioned values. What do you consider the traditional definition of those values?


His response (AKA: Either women are dirty or I'm just poorly written):

Why do you suppose with having been on so many dates, none have worked out? Perhapos you've been dating for fun and not for marriage purposes?!

It's not about relationships deep enough to report on....but rather, relationships deep enough to have been sexually involved with. If someone can be sexually active with someone (even if for a night) then it's deep enough to report on.

Any woman that has sex with people before marriage could also be considered "trashy", no? Just because a woman won't talk about where she has been, well that doesn't make her clasy...does it? If a woman was proud about how she has conducted herself...then she wouldn't have a problem talking about her past. Most women however, now no self control, and because so, do lots of things with lots of people that they'd just soon not have to own up to. If a woman can have sex with different people, then she shouldn't have a problem with being acountable for her actions. That said, few women wish to hold themselves accountable for their actions. Most like to say "that was before you and it doesn't count". I say that if a woman's past doesn't count (all of it) then neither does she.

"Loaded questions" as you call them...are the best questions. They allow two honest and sincere people to know one another. People are always saying that they are tired of games....yet they are always playing them. Too bad more people won't just be honest....but, if they were honest, perhaps they wouldn't live the way they do (going from relationship to relationship with a second thought.).

The traditional definition of Old-fashioned is for me to define...rather, it is what it is. I either live by it or I don't. I have chosen to live by the correct definition of what it means to be conservative and old-fashioned. I have allowed myself one relationship in my 41 years, a learning expereince. After leaving the relationship, I made a promise to the person I hoped to meet and marry that I would wait for her and only her. That was 16 years ago. If I had had two, three, four, five, six etc relationship like most do, then I couldn't say that I learned from my first. Further, I would have learned to accept failure of a relationship as being ok...something that I knew wasn'/isn't right. In short I would have become jaded and damaged for anything lasting if I didn't make a comitment to the person I hope to marry...and keep it.

In short, I live as I hope the person I am looking for is living...celibate and not racking up failed relationship, sexual partners. If I am to be worthy of the kind of person I want to marry, it's important that I bee the same...no excuses. I am accountable for my actions...all of them. I have a conscience, one that keeps me doing the right thing. I could go on, but this exchange is looking rather lop-sided. : )

My Response (AKA: Don’t poke the bear. Especially if the bear has at least one woman in a hole putting the lotion on her skin)

Good luck with all that. (followed by clicking the ‘block user’)

Editor's Note: I quickly came to the conclusion that this man could likely be one of those serial killer types who thinks all women are unclean and who wants to wear me ask a skin dress, so I sent the above. However, I made this decision after writing the response below and sitting on it for a good hour (the cool-down hour).

Dream response (AKA: Boom!):

Okay, you might be one of the most off-putting, aggressive, assuming and narrow-minded people I've ever encountered. Allow me to answer your questions and address your rude comments:

I have to date to find "the one." Clearly I'm dating for marriage, but until the one is found, I have to go on dates with people who aren't the one. Do you expect your perfect, clean woman to just fall through your roof? Additionally, do you expect anyone to go from “nice to meet you” to “you are the one” without dating…if so, you are in a very creepy dream world.

It's hard to even address your comments about women and sex as they are totally inappropriate and show signs of you being mentally unstable. Clearly some woman destroyed you. I don't know if that happened in childhood or in your "learning experience" relationship – the only one you’ve had in 41 years. If making blanket statements and generalizations where something I were into, I'd note that your comments about women not having self control have the undertones of a serial killer who thinks he's acting on God's behalf.

Me using the phrase "loaded questions" was my attempt to gently point out that your approach and line of questioning was neither honest nor sincere (two things you claim to be). Your line of questioning reeks of a sad, lonely, angry man who's only had one relationship, and who is looking for a fight. And, he looked for the fight online like a coward because he couldn't hold his own in a face-to-face debate, nor would he ever have the courage to debate these issues with men, whom he obviously thinks of as the better and more pure sex (another blanket statement like the ones you seem to enjoy).

Regarding this little bit of crazy: “The traditional definition of Old-fashioned is for me to define...rather, it is what it is. I either live by it or I don't. I have chosen to live by the correct definition of what it means to be conservative and old-fashioned. I have allowed myself one relationship in my 41 years, a learning expereince. After leaving the relationship, I made a promise to the person I hoped to meet and marry that I would wait for her and only her. That was 16 years ago. If I had had two, three, four, five, six etc relationship like most do, then I couldn't say that I learned from my first. Further, I would have learned to accept failure of a relationship as being ok...something that I knew wasn'/isn't right. In short I would have become jaded and damaged for anything lasting if I didn't make a comitment to the person I hope to marry...and keep it,” Good luck with this theory. You're going to need it.

If I were a betting woman, I would put money on the fact that you being celibate is less by choice and more about how you approach and treat woman. I can’t imagine any woman wanting to share herself with a man like you physically or in any other way. If this e-mail exchange is at all a preview of how you conduct yourself in person, and in a relationship, I can see why you've decided on being celibate. You are so holy and wise for going that route; however, I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that you couldn’t get laid if you were bathroom tile.

If you are accountable for your actions, I sincerely hope you will take some accountability for how rude and out of line your comments are. This is a both pathetic and funny to me. For the record, your judgment of me is insane. I can promise you my morals are intact (I sleep very well at night; whether I’m alone or with a man), my relationship with God is strong, my ability to converse with others without looking like a socially inept fool is on point, and my ability to see a sad, angry, weirdo is so finely tuned, I know to block you and not deal with you, your mommy issues, and your judgments of women.

PS- adding a smiley emoticon to your poorly written e-mail doesn't mask your rage. In fact, I'll pray you tonight...and for any poor woman with low enough self-esteem to converse with you.

PPS- You might want to consider ordering a bride from Russia, and I’ll pray that you don’t kill her.


So, where is the gem in this post? It’s twofold. That’s right, people, we’ve got a two-for!

Gem for the ladies: Run your profile past at least one creepy male friend (don’t play confused, we all have at least one…even if he’s just a Facebook friend). If he wants to get coital with you, murder you, wear you as a dress, or any combination of these. PROFILE NEEDS REVISION.

Gem for the men: If you act like this-online, in bars, in relationships, or even in your head- prepare to familiarize yourself with a lot of solo lovemaking, restraining orders, and/or jail time.

I don't claim to be a dating expert. I'm just fumbling through it like all the other single women in Atlanta. We all screw up in dating. We all make fools of ourselves at one point or another. But there is a fine line between screw up and being so crazy that you become a ‘blocked user.’

And, that, my friends, is a real-life Dating Gem.

Dating Speeches and Training Wheels

“I’m not an easy person to get to know. I can promise you that there will be times when you are trying to have a serious conversation with me and I’ll use humor to deflect your questions – simply because I find it difficult to bare myself. You need to know this now, and you need to know that it is okay to call me on it.”

The above is one of my many dating speeches. We all have these speeches: The ‘I don’t kiss on the first date’ speech; the ‘I can’t lose my identity’ speech; the ‘just the tip, just for a minute speech (yes this one still exists); the ‘my ex-girlfriend is still in my life because I feel sorry for her/we’re just friends’ speech. I could go on, but I’m just going to focus on my ‘I use humor to deflect’ speech.

If you know me, you probably think this couldn’t be the truth. I am very open, rarely meet a stranger, and can walk into a bar and leave with a friend with a fair amount of ease. However, the above speech is totally true. I have an easy time making friends, and I’m great at small talk. But, I can count on one hand the people who really know me on a deep level. Getting past the jokes, good times and chit-chat doesn’t always come easily for me. I can do it, but it takes time. And, I suspect I’m not the only one who opens up on a deeper level at a slower pace.

I’m well aware that whoever I date is going to eventually want to know more about me. That’s the point, right? Basic getting to know you, followed by deep connection, followed by love and life. So, it is important that I get past deep connection and move on to love and life.

The truth is, I didn’t even know this about myself until one of my training wheels pointed it out. To finish this story, I’ll tell you another:

I can remember when I finally removed the training wheels off my pink huffy. Well, my mom removed them, but I was there. Proud, prepared and ready to ride the North Landing Drive loop. I felt like nothing could stop me, no one owned me, and I could carry the world in my bike basket. I was a little woman with big dreams. I was ready.

When it comes to lasting love, I believe that everyone is wrong until someone is right. But, I don’t believe there are any real dating mistakes – not if you view your daters as training wheels. I believe that we all have to go through several sets of training wheels before we are ready to cruise into love with a two-wheeler.

You see, when a relationship ends, I try to look for the lessons. It may take me several months or years, but I try to spend less time focused on hate and hurt and more time seeking the lessons I’m supposed to take from the relationship (as well as identifying my part in the breakdown). I do this with the hope that, one day, I’ll realize that I’ve found a two-wheeler to spend my life with. And, I’ll be able to thank all my training wheels for preparing me for him.

Recently, I had a friend who became a set of training wheels. That’s a story for another blog (or perhaps one I’ll keep for myself). In short, I thought I’d finally found a platonic friend and then ‘bam!’ realized that I wanted more, then ‘bam!’ realized that I had real feelings, then ‘bam!’ realized we had broken the friendship (a calculated risk that failed) in hopes of something better, then ‘bam! realized we were a total mismatch. My heart hurt.

Rather than focusing on my hurt for too long, I tried to focus on what this wonderful man taught me and how he helped me grow. There are many ways he excelled at being training wheels, but the day he said, “You know, Erin, we spend a lot of time together, and I don’t really know you. You really don’t tell me anything about yourself, and aside from joking and flirting, I don’t know who you are,” was some of the best training I’ve ever reconceived.

Talk about a grownup conversation. He was kind enough to struggle though it with me several months while dating and for a few more as we tried to re-establish the friendship. Whenever he sensed I was closing off about a subject, he’d encourage me to talk. Even saying at one point, “It’s going to be okay. We can talk about this; you will survive the conversation because I’m going to help you through it.” And, he would bare his soul to me regularly. It was healthy communication…well as healthy as people in a totally undefined dating situation could have.

I know my friends, being good friends, would love to see me take a ‘screw him’ attitude, but I learned so much from his training wheels. So much so, that I have created my own third date rule (to replace the insane standing third date rule that says I have to sleep with a man because he takes me out three times). My third date rule is, if I sense I’m going to go on a fourth, fifth and sixth date, I’m going to find a way to work some version of my ‘I use humor to deflect’ speech into the conversation.

I’ve only tried this speech on a couple of men, and it has gone over well. Once I gave them permission to call me on my crap just the way the sweet set of training wheels did, the conversations move past getting to know you. It feels far more authentic. I’m not doing PR spin; I’m just opening up.

So, there you have it. My dirty dating secret…I’m not as easy a nut to crack as you might think. And you now know that I prefer looking for lessons-rather than looking for fault, and reasons to hate-when something comes to an end.

I don’t love dating, but I love the idea that I’m doing it to prepare for life with someone. At 32, I can admit I’ve needed a few more sets of training wheels than others. I hope my extra training means, when I finally do decide someone is forever kind of two-wheeler, I’ll avoid getting my shoelace caught in the spokes of love, causing a full-on wipe out.

In the meantime, thanks to this particular set of training wheels, I’m far more open! A benefit I suspect my eventual two-wheeler will enjoy as much as I do. And, for that, I say, “thank you, training wheels.”

I’m sure I’ll have more stories about other training wheels both past and future - some of which I don’t always have fond memories of; some of which have helped me author other dating speeches; all of which have taught me something about myself.

Practice makes perfect, and there’s no shame in the training wheel game!

Five Reasons My Dog Thinks the Vacuum Cleaner Being Turned on is a Sign of the Apocalypse

I’m not sure what version of the apocalypse my dog, Murphy, is planning for, but I think his version includes ‘gigantic suction machines that attack hardwood floors and puppies’ as the beginning of the apocalypse. I submit now, five pieces of evidence that will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt Murphy believes the vacuum cleaner being turned on is a sign of the apocalypse:

1. Right when Murphy realizes the vacuum cleaner has been turned on, he runs to his food and water to eat and drink. He’s a smart dog and knows that he’ll need his fill of lamb and rice to survive what has just broken loose. I can’t swear by it, but sometimes it almost looks as though he his limbering up while eating and drinking. There appears to be a pretty intense hamstring stretch going on.

2. Next, he realizes that he has a family of stuffed babies to protect. He gathers them all into one corner of my bedroom and starts to run circles around the condo, occasionally stopping back by to ensure his babies are safe.

3. While working patrol and protecting his family, Murphy spends some time checking me out. I’m fairly certain he is contemplating whether I need to be eliminated. In his world, as the human working with the apocalypse suction machine, I could very likely be a threat. However, I appreciate his thoughtfulness each time. He has yet to make the decision to go all Book of Eli on me, but I have no doubt he has a fully formulated plan in case I get the suction machine too close to him or his babies.

4. While keeping a close eye on me, Murphy meticulously grooms himself. I kind of blame myself for this. He has been raised by a human who would groom before hitting the mean streets during the apocalypse. However, because he isn’t sure what to expect— I mean, even if he and his babies survive the suction machine, Murphy knows more craziness could be just on the other side of our condo door—he spends a lot of time grooming his paws. I think he is actually licking the fur away from the claws in preparation of cutting me on the way out the door, but I can’t be certain.

5. When the suction machine is finally cut off, he celebrates his survival by chewing on one of his babies’ faces, then giving his nether regions a special ‘celebration’ cleaning (don’t act like your dog doesn’t do it), then naps. I’m not sure if this is a proper celebration for surviving the apocalypse, but I’m not going to judge as I’ve never been through one. Who knows what I would do?

About this time, I stop belting out Wake Me Up Before You Go Go—I’m also well aware this could be the real cause of Murphy’s reaction—and sit down to rest. Murphy takes a break from his celebration routine and usually comes up to ensure I haven’t been turned in some way – and to ensure that I don’t have the sign of the beast on me. Once he realizes that I’m a fellow survivor, he warms back up to me – letting his flowing puppy hair fall back over his precious puppy paws/killing machines, and we snuggle in a clean house that is safe for another three days – when we will do it all over again.

....

Here's a good example of what it looks like

when Murphy experiences the level of exhaustion

that falls over a dog after surviving the apocalypse.

Note the lack of trust in the face and the paws that are

still awaiting the need to strike. Well played, Murphy. Well. Played.

HANGIN' WITH HIPPIES IN SAN FRAN

I spent most of my day wondering around the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco. At first glance, this probably seems pretty benign to you, but if you know how freaked out I am by all things hippie, you would know that this was really more of a therapy session for me than anything.

For the past couple of years, I’ve been trying to face fears – both small and large – head on. I can’t tell you why, but I really have an aversion to hippies. Well, rephrase: I have an aversion to new hippies. Meaning, if you are a hippie and you’ve been stonin’ around since the sixties, I have no problem with that. But, it is the new breed of hippie that freaks me out. I have no clue why, but they do.

Anyway, as a part of my self-therapy, I’ve been trying to face fears head on. So, today, in the birthplace of hippies, I jumped off a bus and joined them. I brushed shoulders on the streets, shopped in their stores, admired their unwashed hair and even chuckled to myself when my eyes started watering thinking, “I bet I look like one of them now.”

There were all kinds of hippies on my journey today: old hippies, new hippies, hippies that live on the stairs with their dogs, hippies that play some kind of freaky wind machine at the entrance to Golden Gate Park. Pick your particular brand of hippie, and I mingled with him or her today.

I don’t know that this emersion therapy cured me of my fear of new-fangled hippies, but I do respect those who give it all up to roam the streets of their lifestyle’s birthplace. I can’t say I’ll be rushing back tomorrow, but for today, I jumped in the mix (all by myself) and got my hippie on. That being said, I do smell like a mixture of weed and pee, so I’m going to hit the shower now.

In the meantime, enjoy this little hippie pup. The best little hippie I've ever met. he was totally knocked out in front of a laundry mat. I love him.

HOW TO WIN A ONE-UPPIN’ CONTEST

So, I’m in the middle of my standard pre-flight nervous breakdown at the airport. My flight to San Francisco has been delayed by an hour, which gives me more time freak out. As I sit here pondering why I’m so amped up and crazy about certain things (like flying), I’ve come to the conclusion that I come by my crazy naturally. Like most families, I’ve got crazy on both sides. And, like most Southern families, we are kind of proud of our crazy. We don’t hide it in the attic, we put it right out there for all to enjoy. Being the granddaughter of a woman who would fall on the floorboard of a car and cry while going over a bridge over water (I’m not that bad, but I’m not a fan of bridges over water), it is no wonder that I have hard-core pre-flight rituals and the ability to freak out before boarding. Yeah, Hartsfield, enjoy that.

So, while pondering my own personal crazy, I started thinking about some of the crazy in my family and have to admit that my family’s crazy (on both sides) is good enough to win awards…major awards. And, if there are no awards to be won in the area of family craziness, I can say that our crazy at least helps me win one-uppin’ contests!

So, I’m not sure what stories you all are telling at work, on vacation or elsewhere today. But, allow me to introduce you to Uncle Claude – my uncle who got a DUI in a wheelchair.

Family folklore has it that my great uncle Claude got a DUI in a wheelchair. He was a full blown alcoholic who had a history of mean, inappropriate drunken behavior. He was the kind of man you stood clear of when he was on a bender, which seemed to be always.

How he got in the wheelchair in the first place is fascinating enough. Apparently, he was shit-your-pants-and-sit-in-it drunk one night while watching the Andy Griffith show. In this particular, life-changing for Claude, episode, Opie got in trouble and Andy yelled at him. This behavior was simply unacceptable to Claude and he rose from his seat, charged the television and started cussing, slurring and yelling right back at Andy. Claude’s rage reached such a level that, when mixed with the constant high levels of booze in his body, caused him to have a paralyzing stroke right there in front of the Andy Griffith Show. His last moments standing upright and able to speak were spent in a drunken fight with a fictional character.

Claude is the subject of many Latimer family stories that are best held for another time, but the DUI story is always the one we Latimer’s hold as the final knockout blow in un-uppin’ contest.

Imagine yourself locked and loaded. You’ve just silently watch two or three friends tell stories of the mom’s getting drunk at the office party, brothers getting got with pot in church and sisters streaking the fraternity house next door. You sit silently and wait your turn. Just when everyone thinks you’ve got nothing to add, you hit them with, “My uncle got a DUI for wheeling drunk down I-75 in a wheelchair.” He was drunk, on wheels and moving … he got a DUI.
Boom. Done. Game over. That’s how a Latimer shuts down a one-uppin’ contest.

The truth is, I’ve never seen paperwork that proves this is true, but I’ve lived 32 years a Latimer, and that is all I need to fully rep this story on the streets. This is a man who, my entire life, wheeled around in a wheelchair, saying three things: “my-my,” “money,” and “GD.”

This is also a man that had one really long thumb nail that he used to perfectly slice and line up bananas for a banana and mayo sandwich. So, I’ve got enough history as a Latimer to feel confident that this story is both true and a winner every time it’s told.

As you simmer on that, I’m going to buy my traditional Powerade and granola bar. Say my pre-flight prayers, and get on this plane. I’ll see you in San Fran!

F*CKERY-FREE DATING

My threshold for fuckery* is way low these days.

I realize "fuckery" might be offensive to some readers, but there is no other word to describe it. I've heard people say that once a single woman hits her 30s, her chances of finding a husband are low. It is always made out that her chances are low because she becomes less desirable and has less to offer.

I beg to differ. I think some women hit their 30s and realize they have pretty wonderful lives with or without male companionship. And, their tolerance for fuckery goes down.

Here’s the thing. This Friday, I’ll be treating myself to a lovely dinner and show in San Francisco. I’ll be with a great gal pal and we’ll enjoy looking at cute men on the other side of the country (it just so happens, these cute men will be performing in a drag show of the Golden Girls. I digress). I’ll treat myself very nicely this Friday.

Last Friday, I treated myself very nicely. Today, I’ll treat myself very nicely. When I celebrate my birthday next week, I’ll treat myself very nicely. I am, and will continue to be nice to myself.

So, this single (and still desirable) lady in her 30s will wait for a man that can treat me just as nicely as I treat myself. He doesn’t have to take me to San Fran, he just needs to be free of fuckery. If he shows up, I’ll be ready. But, I’m not holding my breath, freezing my eggs or otherwise in a frenzy. I truly love men and enjoy being around them. But, I believe that men, unlike boys, are free of fuckery. That’s what I’m looking for...a man.

In the meantime, I’ll continue enjoying the lovely fuckery-free relationship I have with myself!

*For those with cleaner vocabularies than mine:

Fuckery (used as a noun in this post. There is a difference between the noun and verb usage of fuckery) is immature shenanigans to the point of being absolute bullshit. Fuckery brings forth feelings of nonsense and rage. The best thing to do with fuckery is walk away from it.

Used in a sentence: Take your fuckery elsewhere, good sir.

(Note: the usage of “good sir” classes up the word “fuckery” almost cancelling out the fact that "fuckery" is derived from the word "fuck").