I Got a NYE Kiss for Ya

Fading Away

I've been staring at the blankness of this entry for some time. I know what I want to say; I just lack the desire to type it out. And if, after seeing the length of the post, you lack the desire to read it, I wouldn't blame you at all.

Ennui. It is the epitome of laze that I long for a talk-to-type software program when my fingers are fully capable of moving. Slothlike has become not only a way of being but a state of mind.

I don't really have anything all that interesting to put down, but this isn't for anyone else as I remind myself. You're all just along for the ride, on the sidelines, staring at the train wreck or the occasional touchdown.

There's just a few loose ends rattling around my head I guess. I'll try to organize them into subjects as best I can, so that I can make some semblance of sense and perhaps peace, with myself.

I don't usually outline my writing. I prefer to just freeform it. But to help lend focus I wrote down major topics, then sub-topics. I wrote: Weight Loss & Exercise, Men, Writing, Being a Total Bore. What do you think? I think they're all related. Of course they are. Everything in life is symbiotic; I often try to fool myself into thinking it isn't. And if you think I'm being "too hard on myself," spare me and don't bother reading. Last thing I need is to be coddled.

Weight Loss & Exercise

Food
I'm fat as ever. I've been indulging in my addiction since October. I tried, very hard I might add, to follow Weight Watchers. Got all the books from a lifetime member, got very excited, planned out everything, and yeah, no. Not possible for this carbohydrate addict. The best way I can describe this to you is to paraphrase Mr Craig Ferguson when he wrote about his alcoholism. "If I could have just one drink, I would...." If just one portion of carbs could be enough....

Considering my favorite part of the vast array of Christmas dinner food was the popovers (mashed potatoes coming in a close 2nd), I know the deal. And I am just free-falling to tell myself otherwise. So I am in freefall. When you can close your eyes and actually visualize yourself crawling into a popover and sleeping the winter away, yeah, you know the deal.

I have carbs all over my kitchen. My best friends and my worst enemies. I will work on removing them between now and January 1. Here we go again. Everyone falls off their respective vice wagons; but we can just get back on if we want to. If we look back over the last 3 years of this blog (trust me, I did so you don't have to), we will see that I had the most success lo-carbing + no exercising. Even if that's just a temporary kickstart, I'll take the value for what it is worth.

I have thought maybe I didn't want to get back on the wagon again, but then yeah...the potential of never dating again was too painful to imagine.

Exercise
Enter a real problem. Not just a mental problem, but a logistical physical problem. I had to put my gym membership on hold (I have a year to go back without new sign-up fees). It increased to almost $50/month to basically use a treadmill. Because I've had to add the monthly expense of hiring a pet sitter, at $15/visit or approximately $144 w/ discount per month, I've had to adjust some expenses. However, the care for the dogs is not only vital to my sanity (no longer feel anxiety on the drive home which is good), it is becoming necessary for their health as well, particularly the rescue girl.

I've long since given up on the BowFlex as too many moving parts and dog hair sure to clog it almost immediately, but I secretly lusted after the NordicTrack Incline Climber despite it being touted by the dreaded Jillan Michaels. I even thought I could afford their payment plan option. Oh yes, except, I tried and I don't meet their requirements for approval. So they can suck it. The answer isn't some expensive piece of equipment anyway.

Searching for used equipment, and considering busting out the old NordicTrack skier as a "better than nothing" option. And before anyone leaves a comment that says "Just walk briskly around the lake with the dogs," please....I have a heart monitor people, I know the deal. I know the range my heart rate needs to get into (pretty high) and I cannot walk (and I'm unable to run) at that pace with or without the dogs, on my own, around the lake. I need a machine to help me otherwise it is just wasted effort. And wasted effort soon becomes a give-up situation for me.

Assistance
I have the names of 2 hypnotherapists. I just need to learn rates and make a decision. I'm not sure I can afford either, but because one is seeking additional income due to cutbacks on their other job, I'm crossing my fingers I can afford her and she can help me turn off the carb cravings. Don't worry, I know the work is mine to do, but I also know that the subconscious mind holds the freaking key for me. There are really wrong programs playing in my head, and I need help to turn them off.

Men
Oh, my favorite subject I love to hate. Much of what I write is with sadness, but without surprise. Reality is one tough bitch.

The Sorry Sad Loser (Formerly Last Love of My Life)
We can all breathe a collective sigh of relief (and a few rolling of the eyes I'm sure), when I write that I'm 99.9% certain, as certain as anyone can ever be about the uncertainty of another person's actions, that I will never get a text message, email, phone call, or unexpected visit from L again. I took care of it without having to block his number or change my number. I took care of it, not unlike the way a Jersey Girl would take care of it and not unlike the way Tony Soprano would take care of it. Enough said. (Yes, he's still alive with both kneecaps, but I will forever imagine that I have his virtual balls in a lockbox I never intend to open.)

eHarmless & OKStupid
The communication requests and first messages from these sites have been off the charts in the last half of December. So much so that it has become rather time-consuming to sort through it. I am certain this is holiday-effect, in which guys suddenly feel like they don't want to spend another year alone so they better get on the dating track the way some people begin to exercise come January 1. Hey, their loneliness might be my opportunity; I'll take it.

I'm approaching these interested guys from the "non-physical attraction" angle. I can't say that any of their photos get me all giddy with delight. And I'm thinking that's a good thing. I like what they have to say about their lives instead. Because let's face it, my photo might rock but my stomach resembles a bunch of rocks. So perhaps it is time to dial down the expectations on what a match for me might look like. It isn't settling; it is dealing with that bitch of reality. Rocketing to the top priority is whether or not he minds that I have weight to lose.

I'm communicating with guys from all over the country, which is interesting. Learning a bit about Alaska, northern Westchester NY county, Cedar Rapids Iowa, as well as closer to home Woodbridge NJ and my old college haunt the Happy Valley of western MA.

I do disclose the fat, as the saying goes, but for some reason the guys always write back "You look great to me," or "I'm sure it isn't as big of a deal as you're making it." Sigh. Yet, as I exchange communication with these guys, I suspect that if they met me, that would be the end of it. This isn't a confidence issue; this is a reality check. I FEEL beautiful, until I look at myself in a full-length mirror or my sister hands me a photo of myself from the October wedding. Reality is a bitch.

I look good on paper, I pass favorably in photos I take of myself to make sure the angle is good, and even a bit of my smiling webcam face is winning for some guys, but when a guy asks me if I'd like to go skiing or rock climbing, my heart and mind say YES, but I look down at myself and reality is that bitch again, putting it into perspective, "He has no idea what you're really like." He has no idea I'm capable of carrying not one marsupial but two in my pouch.

Chicago BOY
Mr Vegas and I had it out via email after he commented on a birthday photo in which I was wearing my "Kiss Me I'm the Birthday Girl" shirt: "I would have kissed you!" Excuse me? Go get yourself a life buddy, you missed the boat, the boat dock, and the entire travel itinerary. Upon several emails back and forth and GREAT disbelief on his part that he had missed my "signals" in Vegas (I had to spell them out including the towel, the asking, the I'm tired comment etc), HE concluded that, yes, he was "clueless with women." Um obvs. Ridic obvs. Grow up.

The Married Italian
Molto Bello Italia and I have settled into that zone where after communicating nonstop for two months you no longer have anything new to say and to repeat the same old daily things seems dull and well, redundant. There are no more good mornings and goodnights, no more what are you doing, what are you eating for lunch, what will you watch on tv tonight. Questions I ask go unanswered and he is clearly (and rightly so) focused on more important things. This is not just a holiday break, this is a change in the friendship since Vegas, mostly on his part, but the less he messaged me, the more I could understand the logic of it, if not the emotions.

It isn't the first time I've been some guy's distraction from his dull or boring life (there was this time in Arizona once....). And it isn't the first time that initial fascination with me wanes and turns into that averageness of every other person he knows and I cease to be unique. Every person comes into our life for a time, a season, or a lifetime. Or something like that.

Basically, I'm not surprised. I hope this means his family life is warmer, closer, or whatever. I'll always hold him in high regard as a dear friend and for that brief time a fantastic muse inspiring me to write new poetry; but there's just no way to carry on that high level of attention when it isn't being returned. Some flames burn forever and some burn brightly for a short time.

Sing it, Bruce: "What can I do, what can I say? Oh darlin, I don't want to fade away..."

My New Year's Eve Plan B
I've been asked by Mr Harry Pottypants to "hang out" with him at his newly purchased condo on New Year's Eve. Might be marginally better than spending it alone, although I've spent enough NYEs alone to know that there's no real adverse effect on me. We'll see. I stipulated that hanging out would not be "getting drunk and having sex," but more likely "video games and a chick flick of my choice" to which he readily agreed (sucka). In his invitation, he wrote, "You've been one of the more significant people in my life this year so it seems fitting to hang out if we've both got nothing else to do." Way to sell it. At his young age (32, I think), he really should have other options. He claims there's a friend's party but it is too far for his taste to drive.

Writing
I took a break, and now I don't want to go back to it. And I feel like if I continue to be distracted by twitter and this blog (and blog reading of others), then the writing will stay firmly on hiatus. What to do, what to do, what to do.

Being a Total Bore
Rather sick of myself in general.

Went to see Up in the Air, and I thought I was watching a "Reasons to Kill Yourself" Infomercial brought to you by Hertz, American Airlines, and Chrysler. Clooney, what were you thinking? And the awards being thrown at this movie need some explanation. Or I need a kick in my grumpy pants. Perhaps one's view on life at the time slants a movie, ya think?

Not at all surprised that even the Princess of Sweden and I have had nothing to talk about for a while now. I think I'm all talked out.

The more time that passes, the more things stay the same.

Non-Receptive Surfaces

He always said, "Worry only sticks to receptive surfaces...."

I'm one of those lovable nutcases who believes in signs from the universe and cosmic happenings. I'm spiritual but not religious. I believe what we do does influence the outcome of what happens. The weekend happenings mentioned in the previous post were not lost on me, and I found myself wondering what the universe was trying to tell me. It isn't always good news I'm afraid, but warning signs.

So when I'm driving home from work and my phone starts ringing a special ring tone that come to find out I haven't heard in more than a year, I really couldn't figure out what my phone was doing: not a text message ringtone, not an email ringtone, not a phone call ringtone. Until I looked down and almost drove off the road.

It was L calling, and I had given him a ringtone all of his own with a lovely little black and white photo of him playing guitar right there next to the number. It may as well have been dancing naked for the shock I felt. I couldn't have answered it even if I wanted. And I didn't want. No really I didn't. Surely you know, after the last post and the post where I had to tell him before my birthday that I never wanted to see him again, that I'm really not interested in this man anymore. Not matter how much I loved him once; he's like poison to me now.

But STILL the whole situation tugs at my worthless heart and drags me down. People believe that women like drama even while they say they don't, thus continuing the vicious cycle. I don't know, I can't stand this. It gets under my skin, I want to hide, I eat more, and I just can't focus. Do I sound like I'm enjoying myself? Not my idea of fun.

He was never the type to leave much voicemail in general in the 4 years we were together. So when the voicemail notice came on, I was curious and listened. Damn his voice.

Oddness. He had a dream, and not being an overly spiritual man (perhaps his age is wearing him down), I found it odd that he would put so much emphasis on it. Just a lie, just an excuse, bullshit to get to talk to me, these thoughts were echoed by the ever wise Sweden who was thankfully available for immediate consultation.

If so, he chose the one subject matter that he knew would sink me: he had a dream about my sweet Sena. He said she came to him in this dream and he was concerned it meant something was wrong with me.

At face value, from someone else, I would find that particularly moving and sweet.

From him, I feel it is manipulative and controlling, even if it is true. Particularly when at the end of the voicemail, he says "Don't call me. I'll try to call again."

Of course, don't call him and disturb the Mrs.

ASSHOLE. Most women WOULD call, immediately, because we don't like to be told what to do.

And then there were two further communications. Text messages. Within one minute of each other.

1st: Are you ok?

2nd: Sorry to bother you, don't write me back.

Um passive-aggressive tendencies anyone?

I don't know about you but that just pisses me off.

Anyone like this kind of drama? You can have it.

I'm going into the How To Recover From Loving a Lying Sex Addict Protection Program.

The Mistletoe Effect

I've been experimenting with something I've dubbed The Mistletoe Effect. Pretty much since the moment I purchased the mistletoe on Saturday, I've had some distinctly sweet and warm moments. Some flirty moments with men I've come across and some warm camaraderie moments with women I've come across. Overall, in 2 days during the time I'm out of the house, I've had 4 kisses and 7 comments about being santa's elf, wearing mistletoe, or seeming in the holiday spirit.

All in all, laughter was involved and that is a good thing in my book.

The only bad moment was when my manager told me today that I couldn't "make" anyone kiss me because it would be an HR issue....as if that is what I was trying to do? What was perversely amusing is that it would also be an HR issue to see the amount of alcohol being passed around the department, but I kept my response to myself.

The mistletoe (and my smile) are completely responsible for my being invited to a Christmas Eve party. Nevermind the fact that I was a last minute invite; I'll take it. I was told to bring my santa hat, my mistletoe, and my smile. Done and done.

However, every day I fight the feeling that I'm drowning and that I want to run away. It is one part work, one part loneliness, and one part health. Lurking around me is a darkness that threatens to pull me under at any moment. For example...

• It isn't a good moment on Saturday when you pull into a parking lot and see your ex-lover's SUV outside the store you were going into which is less than 5 minutes from your house and more than 30 minutes from his new place. And you sit there a safe distance away and watch him come out a few minutes later with so many bottles of alcohol he needs a store clerk to help him and you just know he's having a holiday party that night with his new "I'll never get married again" wife.

• It isn't a good moment on Sunday when the universe tells you in no uncertain terms that you need to STOP multitasking by sending you on your backside so suddenly that you hear your head smack against the pavement and sprain your wrist and break two veins open in your hand. You lay there looking up at the blue sky wondering what if you can't move, how long would you be there before someone came to find you while your non-lassie dog circles you with the frisbee securely in his mouth. And what was it you were trying to do? Toss the frisbee with one hand while taking a photo of said frisbee moment with the other hand.

• It isn't a good moment Monday when you randomly come across your ex-lover's 25-year old son at the pizza parlor he used to work at but was no longer supposed to be working at but apparently is once again working at right around the corner from your house and he stares at you like he knows you even though he doesn't and at the stop sign you want to get out of the car and go up to him and simultaneously tell him what an asshole his father is and what a handsome 25-year old he is and how you hope he doesn't use women like his father.

I know there are some good moments out there waiting in the new year....I just might have to move in order to find them.

Looking Back Trivia

OK, who has their thinking caps on or their lucky underwear? Anyone? Grab another drink (whatever your choice of beverage may be). Here are 12 questions that stumped just about everyone except one of my sisters, the Princess of Sweden, and the Princess' Consort (Clearly HE pays attention...can we clone him to create more men who pay attention?). Sweden won a 3-way tie for a Marshall's gift certificate.

I should give an online prize....hmmm.....what could I do.

Well, I could design some bling for you or consult on a new design or colors for your blog. Or I could guest blog...maybe if I promise to be really funny. Or I could write you a poem based on your life. Or bake you dog-hair cookies.

Well, let's see if anyone even takes the bloody test shall we? If you were at the party, you cannot participate online. If you don't have a blog and you win, we'll sort it out.

Each answer (and sub-answer within each question) is worth 1 point. For example, there is more than one answer in the 1st question; Each answer is worth 1 point. Bonus answers=1 point.

I am holding off on posting the answers in the comment section, because silly me, that's where you need to paste your answers. I'm bright like that.

I hope it is worth a laugh.

1. International guys tend to like me. Select the countries I've dated men from....

Scotland
Sweden
Switzerland
Bermuda
England
Iceland
Germany
Costa Rica
Ireland
Canada
Turkey
Iran
Spain
Mexico
Morocco
Saudi Arabia
China
Japan
Australia
India
Slovakia
Poland
Russia
Ukraine
Egypt
Israel
Armenia
South Africa

Bonus: I currently have a crush on a guy from what country?


2. They say time mellows us all. I have done a few things I said I would "never" do. Are these any of them?

Date a Republican.
Root for the Yankees.
Drive into NYC.
Swim in the Hudson River.
Stand outside Bruce Springsteen's house.


3. In which city and year did I get married? October 2....

1990 Istanbul
1989 Izmir
1991 Ankara
1992 Kuşasadi

Bonus: We broke a civil law getting married. What was it?

4. What is one of my favorite expressions?

It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.
If it is meant to be, it will be.
If I don't laugh, I'll cry.
If only my dog could wear a suit, I'd have a date on Saturday night.
If you love something, let it go.

5. In New Jersey, I live:

In a condo on the Jersey shore.
As close to Bruce Springsteen's house as possible.
In a house on a lake.
In a carriage house on a beautiful estate.

Bonus: Rent or own?

6. I have:

two dogs and one cat
five cats and one dog
three dogs and three cats
one dog and one cat

Bonus: One of the animals is named after a character from a TV/movie series. Name the TV/movie series.

7. I have how many tattoos?

1
none
3
2

Bonus: True or False: I want to get one (or one more).

8. Which comedian makes me laugh the most these days?

Kathy Griffin
David Letterman
Jon Stewart
Craig Ferguson
Conan O'Brien

Bonus: I was in the live audience for a taping of what show in NYC?

9. When I was in 2nd grade class, what scandalous act did I commit?

Kissed a girl.
Punched a boy.
Took my shirt off.
Swore at the teacher.

Bonus: True or False: My reasoning at the time was that my mother told me to do it.

10. If I didn't have doggies depending upon me, I would:

Travel the world as a poet.
Live on a horse farm in Kentucky.
Move to Canada to study wolves.
Work on a cruise ship.

Bonus: Yes or No: I will publish my writing some day.

Looking Back Photos

Just a side note...yes, a side note at the start....didn't any of my cat following friends enjoy the LOLZ Cats performing the Twilight movies? I know people are busy, but just don't forget to laugh people.

I've had some requests from people who couldn't attend the party if I could share both the card photos and the trivia questions. OK. I can do that. Happy to do that.

These are photos that were pulled to make a lovely giant card that people signed at my birthday party. My intention is to frame it and hang it so when memory really starts to go, I can try to remember who everyone is. I'm already forgetting to-do list things. Not a good sign people.

Apologies to friends and family, because I did not ask your permission to have your faces on here. You can sue me, but wait until I've sold a few books first. Otherwise, all you'll be getting are 2 dogs and a cat and a really dog-broke RAV4.

You want a little commentary on the photos? OK, here we go...in random order.


I don't know the timeframe, before age 12 definitely. My first dog, Ruff (full name I think was Ruff MacGregor Gray for some reason; I didn't name him though it sounds like a name I would have come up with). He was a West Highland Terrier and incredibly stubborn. That's what I remember most. He essentially died of a heart attack, and I know my mother carries guilt because she overfed him. Ha, just like she overfed me. I also know that my mother's response here would be "I did the best I could." You did, I know.

By the way, that chair was the ugliest couch in the 1970s world I grew up in.


At Cape Cod, me and the ever beautiful and beach-loving Sena during the Living with the Scottish DJ period. It would be during these 4 years that I would meet the Princess of Sweden, gain 100 lbs, and 9/11 would take place.


Summer 1987. Just graduated HS, 2 friends and I on our first "international" trip, a cruise out of Boston to Bermuda. Unbelievably fun.


1987 HS Graduation. Amazing what we thought we knew then.


I am guessing this is 1984/85. Yes, my interest in Mr Springsteen went back further than that.


Skiing. One of the lost past-times that I used to live for. This is Vermont, Killington maybe, definitely some time in the early 80s I guess (before I fell victim to the perms). Gave up skiing when I married someone who tried to ski once but just could not stand the cold. Hard to rationalize the expense when your husband can't get a job and you don't want to hit the slopes alone. I would love to get back into this sport. I am pretty sure that even if they allowed my weight on skis, and I signed a waiver to absolve all others responsibility if I take anyone out with me if I fell down, that I would be incapable of moving the next day. I might try it, we'll see.


My Mom and me, wasn't she smoking hot in that dress? She looked like ribbon candy! Of course, the look on my face pretty much reads: "Where's the cake already?"


You can right-click on these to see the larger image. On the left is the only time I've ever worn a bikini. People tell me I still have that facial expression though. That's awesome. On the right, me in Dundee Scotland, posing with a magnificent creature who would be moved around the city and appear like a mythical beast...oh wait, he was. And I'm not talking about the DJ who took the photo. Looking at these two images side by side, I can say that I definitely enjoy striking a pose. Go figure.


Oh yes, Senior Prom. 1987. I rocked that dress. If only I realized how much back then. My date? A Navy guy who refused to wear his dress whites. Oh yeah, also my 1st...yup. File under What Was I Thinking? As a teenager, clearly, I wasn't.


Left to right: Married life; he let me hang that poster up. My siblings holding me. Attempting to ice skate in the Boston Gardens with my spouse who hated the cold. My tomboy look circa age 14, with my horse, yet another lost enjoyment of mine. If only I'd never discovered boys.


Definitely mid-70s. My cousin and I looking quite adorable for another cousin's wedding. Someone taught that boy well; he at least looks like he knows what he's doing. I of course, have a stain on my dress.

Holy hell peeps, this is one long post. I'm going to break the trivia questions into another post, so come on back.

Mr President, Jack Bauer on the Line

I have so many little mundane things to blog about....I guess that's what snowstorms will be for...getting caught up on things like that. Just as soon as I go find some mistletoe to pin to me along with the last carton of milk in a 5-mile radius.

But first two things: Mr President, Jack Bauer, and Santa. (That's 3 things but who's counting?)

I got a really cool personalized holiday card from the President - did you? I love what technology allows us to do. Check it out and make your own to send to a friend.

_____________

And now, I have to send a shoutout to my niece, Ms Jenn resident of the West Village in New York City. I have to say kudos to her grace and true "new yorker" sensibility (even though - or perhaps because - she was raised in Connecticut).

Yesterday, she just happened to cross paths with Mr. Kiefer Sutherland (link is clip of him butt-kissing his fanbase at The Con) at her gym, about 5-10 minutes from her residence. And she just said hi back when he said hi. See what I mean about uber coolness? Her gym, his gym.

My selfish jealousies Security won't let me disclose the location, for fear that thousands of 24 fans will descend there and wait. But safe to say, one might come across his path again if one were to frequent said establishment.

In general, my niece's aunt is a star struck freak who is also a total klutz. Yes, I'm talking about me. I would have tripped down the stairs, and taken the superhero Jack Bauer actor, down with me like a MAC truck without brakes. And then Kiefer (yes people, it is I before E: K-i-e-f-e-r) would have every reason to headbutt me, and I would probably beg him to do so.

And I suspect this is why there has not been an invitation to be my niece's guest at the gym. Well played, Jenn, well played. Trust me, I wouldn't go in a million years.

Hot chocolate or lunch at a trendy locale, that I can do. The worst that could happen is I accidentally pierce myself with a fork while oogling a celeb. Exercising where celebs might be, not a chance in hell. Insurance doesn't cover the health risks involved to myself and those around me.

If you are a 24 freak fan, may I suggest you check out KieferSutherland24.net. Big rumor that this is the last season of 24. Hope so, as much as I love it even as a liberal, it has become rather formulaic and they should go out on a big NYC-based note. In the office, coworkers count how many times Jack says NOW! or Mr/Madam President. And some take a drink each time the body count rises in honor of Sutherland's own alcoholic tendencies (yes I work with a real fun group of folks obviously). He's become a cardboard cutout superhero. Which is great, don't get me wrong. Just like Superman, Batman, Jason Bourne, etc. Fun to watch, but there's less and less substance as the years roll on. Just my opinion, Kiefer, don't headbutt me please.

Case in point, I leave you with this hilarious serious well-edited clip of Jack Bauer interrogating Santa. The end is the best!

Secret Santa Soriee!

Someone in Tulsa has an incredible amount of creative time on their hands, in my opinion!

First of all, it was INCREDIBLE feeling to see that package waiting for me when I got home from a really busy work day. It made my heart skip a beat! Love that feeling.

Somehow, some way my Secret Santa MADE me a Red Sox sign and a wolf plaque....on corkboard.....I'm impressed. I can assure them it all arrived safely; they'd expressed loving concern for their creations on the card. They are not hanging up yet but they will be.

Also included was some soap scented so purely that I could smell green tea through the box. It was awesome. I know, I'm a dirty girl. Thanks for keeping me clean and stress free to boot.


Also included was a delightful little poem with some adorable delicious accompanying attachments. That made my day extra special, and I quickly lit the candle with the match they sent. (Of course, you know that's illegal thru the post office but we're not telling!)


Also included was several bars of dark German chocolate, named Moser Roth, which sounds to me like a character in a book. I might just be inspired! I'm telling you, it gives Belgium chocolate a run for its money! Fantastico! And may I also say I've never had the candy milkmaids before but they are rather addicting. They were scattered about the box like edible confetti. Yum.


Here is the candle lit on one of my favorite candle holders, which after taking the photo, I realized it is rather Oklahoma in nature. I do love me some wide prairie plains.

Thank you Tulsa! Happy holidays to you too! I hope your Secret Santa rocks as much as mine does.

My Forever 39 Party

Plus, I just HAD to soak my pudgy aching footsies...at 2AM.



I think I may make my next "40-year quest" to soak my feet in as many tubs as possible.

Biggest surprise: A bracelet from Tiffany's. (Even though I said no gifts! I was floored.)

Funniest moment: My mom tucking 2 quarters into her brassiere at the dinner table, for "slots" even though they no longer take coins.

Ocean's 11 moment: They wouldn't let me bring the balloons onto the casino floor.

Win/Win: I only almost teared up twice. But no tears were spilled! Mostly because we were all laughing too much for me to feel even a serious moment of sadness. Yay! Mission accomplished.

Friends moment: HS friends met after-HS friends...and the worlds did not explode! Yay! I'm not George Costanza after all. I am sure you are all much relieved!

Family: Special superduper thanks to my sisters for putting on their "gambling faces" and playing along with me even though they don't gamble. We had some great moments of laughter.

Overall, I felt very blessed and warm, surrounded by love that has spanned 40 -freaking- years.

How lucky am I?! Priceless.

Now Something Light

After that last post, I really wanted to find something light.

And guess what....sweet MBI sent me that adorable little clip over there on the left.

Soooooo cute! I've played a million times already. Go on, click on it...

And I also found these:

If you have a thing for cats, enjoying poking fun at the Twilight movies, or just have a funny bone, you will enjoy these two blog posts from Microsuede. Brilliant.

LOLZCats acting out Twilight

LOLZCats acting out Twilight: New Moon

Next Time It's a Restraining Order

So with all the Vegas-ish out of my system, I guess it is back to the mundane world of office work, crushing on Italian guys who like Springsteen, and dodging creeps in the American dating pool.

Except no, wait. Is it a bird? A Plane? No, Drama Central calling? Yes, there is 55 minutes left in my 39th year and I have to tell you what happened.

Of no real consequence, both Mr No Fly and Mr Costa Rica sent me emails this week. Right, no answer. Rather interesting that they still try to contact me. I must reek of desperation.

And what should also be of no real consequence but we all know it is....because that is what love does, it causes consequences....I have to tell you that -YET- again I had to face my ex. L should be for Loser. 60L = 60-year old loser. Yet again he brought his charming boyish handsome self unannounced to my door while I was home. Yet again...

Enough with the deja-fucking-vu already, this isn't a glitch in the Matrix Neo, this is my life!

Frown on face, I open the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

*blink blink blink*

"You can't do that. You can't wish me a happy birthday."

"Why not?"

"Because....you....didn't bother to wish me one last year."

He laughs and stands there, waiting for me to let him in the door. I don't.

"Well this year you're on my mind for some reason."

"Well this year you're married...to someone else."

"How are you?" That's his response. How.Are.You.

"How's your wife?" I can play that game.

More laughter. "She's fine. I didn't think that would matter to you so much."

"Well, you're wrong. You're you. I'm me. And you can't come here anymore."

"OK. You're right."

"I don't....."

Silence. I try to find the words. Again. I try to make my voice work.

"I don't...." I can feel the fucking tears sticking in the back of my throat.

He looks away and starts to turn away. He knows.

"I don't want to see you ever again."

There it is. I can't believe I had to say those words. My throat feels raw like I swallowed hot coals and pieces of glass. I had to tell the man that I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with that I never wanted to see him again.

"OK you won't. I never meant to hurt you."

Fuck, like it is my fault, like I'm weak to be hurt. Fuck you I wanted to shout out at him. But I was too weak...too weak for words.

He walks off the step and down the driveway. Just a glitch in the matrix, my eyes start to twitch like a computer screen megahertzing off kilter. I wish I could just fade away like some burnt out television tube. Sagittarian escape mode has kicked into full speed and I really am still fighting the urge to disappear somehow.

I can barely see him drive off because I'm crying so hard. It's been over SO LONG now and I'm still crying? Seriously. Get Over It. More than a year. Way more than a year in so many ways.

And on that note, bring on Forever 39. IT WILL GET BETTER! How exactly I don't know, but it will.

Mango Sno-Cone Martini at Cheeseburger in Paradise

What Happened in Vegas III

Forgot about some videos stored in the Crackberry. Warning, the sound sucks on them all because it isn't a video recorder, so you're better off just turning the volume off.

Other than that, enjoy.

Too Poor to Be a Social Butterfly

I don't think I've ever typed or said these words before, so they should be in sparkly letters if only they could be:

I went out alone last night to a bar where a band was playing.

Not just any band. A Bruce Springsteen tribute band that has been playing for 30 years; almost as long as The Boss himself.

But going alone. Let me tell you - that was the incredibly hard part. Harder than getting to Hoboken without actually going thru the Lincoln Tunnel accidentally. So hard that I spent a long time trying to talk myself out of it. But damn, I'm SO sick of sitting home alone, that when a genuine event that I would enjoy came up, I could not let it pass by. It just happened to be in a bar. Ugh.

Hard enough I think for a middle-aged woman to walk into a bar alone on a Saturday night. But add weight to that woman's hips, thighs, ass, face, etc, and you might as well paint her as invisible. Which is absolutely what happens, and unless you've ever been both fat and thinner, you can't recognize the difference. Even the doorman takes the guy's ID to check first despite you standing there. Even the crush of people you have to push through to get to the back where the band is playing don't give you a 2nd glance. You're just an amoeba squishing your way past them.

But I took a page out of the "Things I Learned in Vegas" play book. I simply remembered that not only did I not know any of these people, but chances were very high that I would never see any of them again. So, forget about them, and just put a smile on my face and have fun.

Well, a Sagittarian's idea of fun is usually a little left of center. I wasn't going to be a total wallflower, no, everyone had to look at me last night. Because I was rocking my Santa hat. People were going to notice this fat ass or at least the face that sat beneath the hat. I went with a black boatneck cotton shirt because it was comfortable and light under that wool hat but still showed a bit of shoulder. Jeans. And my 2 inch heel cowboy boots. Today I can't walk, but hey, it was worth it.

Got some courage on the rocks right away at the bar, because it is definitely good to have something in your hand as you try not to spill it on everyone mingling through the crowd. Then I went to meet the stage crew guy who made me aware this band existed. I thanked him profusely in my excitement to be there, and waited curiously for the band. I thought at the start, how good could they really be? I've seen Springsteen live so many times....

The crowd was a mix of young and older, typical Bruce fans. Over the course of the night, many (like 7 or 8 I think) guys wanted to play with the white ball on the end of my hat. (Freud, anyone?) They tapped it, sending it swinging from one side to the other.

One guy took the hat right off my head, which allowed me to say, "Oh you must be on the naughty list...." Took him totally off guard. Yes, he was cute. Young, but cute.

After his initial surprise, he gave a married (ring on the hand holding his drink) sheepish grin and the reply "No actually, I've been a very very good boy." Hmmm, had some temptations this year?

The band did two sets and by the end of the first set, the crowd was pretty hammered. I saw women throwing themselves against men's bodies - it was basically sex with your clothes still on. Amazing what alcohol can do. Of course, the guys were loving it. The guys who weren't getting it done to them, simply watched it being done to others. It was like a total peep show. And I'm a liberal poly-open all love all the time freak. Maybe it just bothered me because I wasn't doing it.

Anyway, so glad I was there for the music, and not to try to meet men. Not my ideal way to meet a guy, never has been, never will be. But I found some older, non-drinking Springsteen fans at the side of the stage and chatted with them.

And how good was the band? The band was so good that I actually dreamed about hiring them to play a private party, which they do. Ha. Sure if I could afford it. At least, they're the next best thing to seeing the E Street Band live. Score one more point for Jersey.

All in all though, it was an expensive night to be flying solo. I am glad I went, but I am too poor to be a social butterfly on a regular basis.

$16 - parking
$10 - cover charge
$17 - 2 drinks
$4 - hot chocolate and croissant breakfast on way home
unknown - tolls & gas

What Happened in Vegas Part II

Please know, I've written my thoughts out and re-read and edited. There's nothing here that I haven't said to him already. I'm not airing anything shocking or private.

I'm stating some facts about what happened in Vegas that should have probably stayed in Vegas, but I needed to get them out of my head and this is my blog for doing exactly that.

You can stop reading at any time, but I cannot stop writing about my life.


Absolutely Grateful
I want to begin by immediately expressing that I had a WONDERFUL time in Vegas.

The highlights of the trip for me were the two shows: The Beatles Love Show and Criss Angel's BeLIEve Show. Both involve Cirque de Soleil, and both blew my mind. If you EVER get a chance to see The Beatles Love Show, do not turn it down! (The link has a preview of the show in the upper right corner of that page.) The show is as unique as the Fab Four were when they first hit the music world.

As for Chicago, I have thanked him many times for the trip and the memories of my first Vegas experience. Although, it was rather mild by Vegas standards, I can honestly say no one has ever "gifted" me an entire vacation before. Can many people say that? A five-star hotel. That's quite a luxurious life; certainly not one I am accustomed to living, and believe me I soaked it up in case it was my only chance EVAH.

Side Note: Years ago, L bought me a beach rental for a week, but once I was there, he backed out of joining me, and I had to fund the week's expenses myself.

Vegas. An unreal playground for the sexy, the wealthy, and the truly unusual.

Vegas was lock, stock, and barrel, paid for by Chicago. I thought I would have to pay for my meals, but no. I did pay for my drinks and my gambling, because Chicago did neither of those things, and it would not be fair to allow him to pay for that. Besides, if I won anything, I didn't want to have to split it. Selfish Sag comes out once in a while, and considering I unselfishly gave away my winnings last November, I wasn't about to set myself up like that again.

Chicago really was all too happy to have me there. He said a few times that when he brought his sister in the past, she often did not even want to have meals with him and his mother. (Yes, this is the 2nd time I had a vague Norman Bates moment.) I found that rather cold when I learned that about his sister at the beginning of the trip, but by the end of the trip, I could understand why someone might not want to spend a lot of time with him.

I'll come back to that. First, I have to talk about me (of course), and how I set my expectations.

Great Expectations
Let me share a little history, and fill in that since August, Chicago has contacted me every day (7 days a week) via email (because he doesn't text or IM), and we have had basic conversations back and forth around the topics of work, money, future hopes and dreams, how attracted he is to me, how freaking hormonal I am as I approach the 4-0, how dating should be better and different for both of us, how he's given up trying, how I'm still making a considerable effort to date, etc and so forth. I can say there was no topic left undisclosed. Including the topic of Friends who Fuck Fool Around. We were both all for it, providing neither of us was dating anyone else (to be fair and to be safe).

Zoom back to Vegas time. I got a nice little nightgown. I asked him to bring condoms. As far as I was concerned....it was on like Donkey Kong. Not so fast, Hormonal Cougargirl...not so fast.

He just didn't have IT....it.....the moves, the desire, the inclination, the "IT" required to magnetize the air and bring the two of us together. He had the compliments for how pretty I was, how nice I looked, how great I smelled, how awesome I made the trip, and this key point: that I was welcome to join him in Vegas anytime he went.

But...when it came to the romance or even raw passionate interest, nada. Less than zero level of interest shown.

And I tried. God how I tried. I threw myself at him, even literarily at one point. He would kiss but not french kiss, and he wouldn't make a move. I would make suggestive remarks, including "hey birthday boy is there anything I can do for you" wearing a towel, smelling fabulous, and oozing sexy from my earlobes - my very personal best effort. Taking the buckle off his belt only brought about an "I'm tired," comment that put me off instantly. And preferring to watch marathon episodes of Seinfeld were all the signs I needed.

OK, I thought, he just isn't THAT into me in THAT way. Got it, I thought. But then...he'd say something (I'm too hot for him to handle) or he'd do something (like spring for a taxi when my feet hurt), that would just make me think otherwise.

So I felt rather confused, even as I was enjoying myself. I sought out instant advice from my Carolina Girl and my Molto Bello Italia. But in the end, it wasn't me, isn't me, and never will be me. What it ultimately comes down to is that he is just THAT awkward with women, and he just doesn't know what he wants or how to go about getting it.

And I can be a sure thing birthday gift, but I can't make his package work for him. He's gotta put some effort up.

So... getting back to....why would even his own sister want to ditch him in Vegas?

Quirky Results
Well, I think there's a word for him: quirky. He's quirky and some people just can't handle it.

He's not talkative; he'll make little to no effort to converse. If we could only have sat across from each other and emailed, it would have been better. Yet, if he feels a certain level of comfort, he'll poke me in the shoulder at the oddest moments. Like when I was getting dressed or putting makeup on or standing at the window watching the view! And when I won on the slot machine, there was a poking that really startled me.

He doesn't know how to swim. He's been to Vegas 30 times and never tried to go into the pools or spas. He experienced his first jacuzzi on the trip with me. He doesn't gamble or drink or go to sex shows, yet he chooses to go to Vegas over any other destination.

In the end, I made his trip unique and special. I'm glad I was able to do that for him, even though my expectations (of being with him, not of Vegas) were not met.

He's led a sheltered life, by choice, yet he's chosen one of the most extravagant and flamboyant locations to vacation on a yearly basis. Once there, I would have thought he'd throw off his inhibitions and let Vegas seep into his bones a little. He jokes regularly about wishing he could live the Entourage lifestyle, but we couldn't even get a little Backstreet Boys action happening. After all, he wouldn't pay the $10 admission fee to have his photo taken in a Maserati.

I did find myself yearning for conversation and more lively company, and on more than one occasion found myself flirting openly with other men.

Is it all his fault? No. He is who he is.
Is it all my fault? No. I am who I am.

And in this eharmless failed in epic fashion.

We are in no way romantically compatible. Friends? Sure. But we will never be anything more.

And sure, it is great to have a friend who would give so much money generously, but I found myself craving even basic conversation with someone whom I have more than generic commonalities beyond both of us being humans struggling in this world.

Money can buy a fantastic trip. Money just can't buy compatibility.

Vegas Photo Friday

You've all cracked me up with your comments on the Gray-Clooney wedding. Thanks for your well wishes. You're all invited to George's Italian villa on Lake Como for Christmas.

I thought Friday would be a fun day to share the rest of the photos with you. If for some reason you're unable to view the photos, let me know. I'm trying out this slideshow presentation, so it could be hit or miss. If you are having trouble, try clicking on the slideshow itself; you should be able to open it in a separate window on the slide.com site.

As for my thoughts about the trip, they're forming. My problem is I don't want to speak unkindly of someone who treated me well. But I do need to get the thoughts out of my head, so they will be tumbling forth this weekend.

Meanwhile....I think it is safe to say, I enjoyed taking photos and even posing for a few (the ones that didn't come out blurry at least).

Love to read your comments, so let me hear it!

Vegas Views

Madame Toussaud's

Me (& Some Waxy Friends)

Me & Chicago

What Happened in Vegas Part I

I have so much to tell you and no time to tell it.

I confess, I have been holding out on you all.




I got - married - in Vegas!!!!








Is anyone still breathing? My family shouldn't be surprised. After all, I got married before without telling them. This is par for the course.







Being a new wife is just exhausting.









Especially when you're Mrs. George Clooney...


(Damn instant-dress wouldn't latch and damn Chicago wouldn't wait until I grabbed it with my other hand....geesh, I'm wide but I'm not THAT wide! But good thing George loves me anyway!)

More fun to come! Wait for it!


Mrs George Clooney

Happy Thanksgiving

"I think the tip I would give most people
for a less stressful Thanksgiving is:
Be born in Europe."
- Craig Ferguson

Vegas Baby Vegas

Well, Chicago and I are meeting up in Vegas. This oughta be interesting, to say the least. Have you ever been someone's birthday present? Is there a handbook for that? I could be sitting on a goldmine here; I better take notes.

(By the way, the trailer for Viva Las Vegas is priceless...click on the movie poster to see...)

I've seen Honeymoon in Vegas, Leaving Las Vegas, What Happens in Vegas, The Hangover, and the Ocean's 11, 12, 13. Somewhere along the way from 1964 to 2009, Las Vegas went from being called Fun Town USA to Sin City to one of the top vacation spots where you take your children!? (Still trying to figure that one out.)

I'm sure none of that will compare with seeing it with my own eyes.

I will tweet, because, well, tweeting is mindless fun and I really like sharing things with my Italian Married and my Carolina Girl.

If I blog...it must mean that I hate it there....and hmmmm the Princess of Sweden is here and threatening to guest blog. Do I dare give her the password? I might come back to find she's MarthaBleepingStewartized my blog.

L'Italia Oggi Vol. I

I am hopeful that if I start to think about Italy proactively, I will somehow find a way to travel there. Since finding my friend, Molto Bello Italia, I have learned so much already that perhaps it is simply a matter of money before I find myself on Italian ground. Ha, simply. Yes.

So here is Italy Today (L'Italia Oggi) Vol. I.


Lingua
I try to bug my teacher once a day for a new word in Italian. Of course, it is fairly useless without grammar instruction at this point. But even babies start talking with simple words.

duomo
te lo merit
modo minaccioso
buongiorno
baci
geniale
sistemati
in giro
principe azzurro
monella
fuori strada
una ragione per credere
vantaggi
mammoni
fa le fusa




Architettura
And this is the famous Teatro Alla Scala, theater, ballet, and concerts.

Duomo di Milano
The Gothic cathedral took five centuries to complete and is the fourth-largest church in the world. And it has a McDonald's directly across from it............that is so wrong!







Musica
And last but not least, I've found that working class blues music sounds quite lovely with an Italian accent. Take a listen to some original music from Italian musician Daniele Tenca.

Hmmmm harmonica, delicious no? I am so so sad I missed his performance in NYC! (And no, dear readers, this isn't my mysterious MBI, but he is a friend of his.)

You can hear more:
Daniele Tenca
Glory Days at Rimini 2009
Daniele Tenca Facebook

So this concludes L'Italia Oggi Vol. I. Pretty awesome. The only thing that would make it better is if MBI would consider guest-blogging or contributing with me. Then it would be autentico Italian education.

On 2nd Thought...

So, I'm fairly certain that Edward planted a thought in my head. When I woke up today, it sounded something like this:

You're flying on Wednesday.

*pause for dramatic effect*

You're flying. Unlikely but, you never know, something...could go wrong.

*pause again*

Don't you want to see New Moon just in case...

WHAT!? I KNOW! WTF?

As if there aren't a lot of OTHER things I should be doing "just in case" something goes wrong, when I fly. Like I don't know....wax, shave, get my hair cut....no, those things won't matter if I'm dead. But standing wherever I am in the afterlife, I'm going to be all pissed off that I haven't seen New Moon...?! What?

That is the silliest thing I've EVER heard.

Yup. I snorted at myself.

Here are some more lovely photos from around the lake today.




So, would you like to know what I thought of the movie?

Nah. You wouldn't.

But I can embrace the afterlife now.

*snort*