Say what?

I really do hate it when my Grandma says to me "You will make such a good wife one day!" when I do some random household chore for them.

Maybe I should change my perspective of that comment and say "Thanks for the vote of confidence that will in fact be a wife one day..."

Handle with care

I had to think about a handle. Not about my little love handles. Not about the fact that I need to get a handle on my life. Nooooo....but a screen name, a user id, a "handle" that other users would know me by.

Oy.

I mean, I consider myself a fairly creative person and all, but I was stumped. Not only did I have to do that, but then I had to come up with a line, a pick up line, if you will, to pose to all the viewers out there.

That's right. A pick up line. I signed up on not one, but TWO online internet dating sites. (Ahem, the free ones....) All in the name of humour, really. What can it hurt? I might end up with some comedic conversation, and now I have an outlet to practise flirting.

Within moments of registering myself, I had messages popping up on my screen. Men who wanted to chat with me. They were sending me emails. They were winking at me.

I'm not going to lie to you. I was scared!!! I didn't know what to do!!!!!

So I shut my computer off.

And then I turned it back on. And logged in again.

I looked at the emails again, read the profiles of these potential courters. Some of them made me groan with the "eek, are you kidding me!?!?" while others made me laugh. I'd like to point out that not one made me feel giddy. Not that I was expecting to, but still, I just want you to know. I even answered to one, just for the hell of it.

On one site, I wrote my line as "This fish wants a bicycle" (yup, compliments to Heather over at This Fish). I'm just waiting for someone to clue into what I mean. It clearly does not mean I want to go fishing, as one gentleman was mistaken in thinking. Honestly. Women's lib? Anyone? Gloria Steinem? Irina Dunn?? C'mon......

Yeesh, how would Gloria and Irina feel about online dating sites? Oh dear, maybe I should unregister myself and throw the notion of a bicycle out the window.

Two Faced

My friends tell me I look like a sweet girl. A nice girl. So I often wonder what is it that makes me look like a sotty bitch instead. One who gets approached by a certain type of guy at the bar...

Picture it. Erin and I head to the classy bar in town (ahem, there are only a few in this city), as our last weekend before we each move. And as planned, we got all dressed up. Well, she wore a dress, I wore sassy long shorts and sleeveless/backless top. Me and a dress and booze--not happening unless it's a wedding. So there we were, all pretty and shit, sipping on our cosmo's, laughing at each other as we delve deep into a conversation of our sexual experiences. When who should walk over and seat himself at our table?

Mr. Nice Looking (notice...not good looking).

He says: Don't mind me, I just want to sit for a few minutes. If you want someone else to sit at your table, just tell me to get lost.

And then he looks around the room, literally ignoring us. How bizarre. Erin and I stare at each other with WTF looks on our faces. Can't really carry on our conversation, so we start to ask him a few things, thinking perhaps he's lost his nerve so we'll just be nice to him.

He doesn't really say much, yes and no answers. Perhaps he really did just want a seat. Ok. Then he asks what we are drinking, so we tell him. He thinks for a minute. He asks where our boyfriends are. We laugh, say our boyfriends were busy tonight. (We do not have boyfriends.)

He says: So what, you girls just out here looking for rich guys to buy you drinks and then take you out in their fancy cars?

Pretty much my chin hit the table. The waitress arrived at the perfect time because after that comment, I needed another drink.

And then he gets up and leaves. What the hell was that??????????????????

Do I look like a sotty bitch to you?

(That's me and Erin, in our apartment, pre-Mr Wanker.)

On the plus side, we left the classy bar, and went down to my fav pub, The Brass Door, which is just a little this side of sketch. True, we stood out like sore thumbs in our fancy clothes, but Jim McGuinly was singing his songs and strumming his guitar, and the bartenders know my preference for gin & tonic, Bombay, please. But best of all, my favourite hole in the wall draws a crowd of people without much pretense. Just a great, general crowd of people having a great time. No one there makes me feel like a sotty bitch, just the nice kid I am. Ahhh...I'll miss that bar.

Farewell, L-town.

Verbal Spasms

It seems that I suffer from a neurological disorder that only appears when I am approached by suitable bachelors. And by suitable, I really mean when just about any guy approaches me to strike up conversation.

All intelligence and the ability to string together sensible sentences seems lost.

Saturday night I was invited to a bachelorette party. I didn't know the bride, however, my roommate to be, Jen, asked if I wanted to come along. Sure! Why not!?! How could it be anything but fun??

A bus full of ladies pulls up to my house to cart me off downtown. Full of giggles and glee, they gift me with an item they all have--a glow in the dark penis shaped straw. How can you have a bachelorette party without fake penises? You just can't. It's like it's the law of pre-wedding parties or something.

We arrive at the bar, penis straws in hand, and the rounds of drinks begin. We all toss aside the plain little black straws that come with our cocktails and sip away on plastic penises. So lady like.

The time came to dance ~ and we could not dance with out our special straws. So there we are, waving them in the air, having a great time. And this striking man comes over to me, I don't even know what he said, but of course it was about the straw. In what I think is humour, I tap the top of the straw like a mic and ask him to repeat the question. He stares at me, says "I'm not talking into that" and walks away.

Well sir, if you ask me about the penis in my hand, you are going to have to actually deal with the impending answer and the way I present it to you.

We continue dancing and drinking. Hours later, back on the dance floor, Jen excuses herself to the ladies room and hands me her straw for safe keeping. So there I am, keeper of the straws. And the striking man comes back over. I think to myself, "Sweet lord above, I have a chance to redeem my coolness!!"

But no.

He makes a crack about the straws, and asks why I now have more than one. And what do I say?? WHAT DO I SAY???

I say "Oh, it's 'cause my friend is taking a leak."

Really, I might as well have said "I carried a watermelon." Just call me Baby and assume the world is full of Johnny's.

Dear lord, will the verbal spams not end?? When will I say something reasonable to entice fine fellows into further conversations!?!?!?!


*On a side note, I would like to point out this is my 100th post :) If you are reading this, Thanks!!! And I hope I've made you laugh just a little! Hope you stick around for my 200th post!

Tools and Meat

First point in order: 16 days of work left.

Now for the rest.

Struck in a moment of genius, my roommate suggests an outing for last night. Why not take a tour over to Home Depot, and look at men. Not at cordless drills, not siding, not at lumber. But men. Hopefully good looking, strapping men with rippling biceps.

So we prettied ourselves up in a casual 'I belong at Home Depot' sort of way, and hopped in the car. The plan also involved grabbing dinner there, as many Home Depot's have a Harvey's built right in them. With grumbling bellies and wander lusting eyes, we pulled into the parking lot. Hmmmm....good looking guy pulling out of the parking lot. Should have gotten ready faster.

Once we quelled our case of the giggles, we emerged from the car and made our fake reason for coming. Checking out paint swatches and looking at bath fixtures. Right. And in all sincerity, I wanted to buy a new little tropical fern since mine died way back in February, and I had yet to replace it.

So enter we did. A quick scan of the front of the store revealed no Harvey's. To my utter disappointment and increasing hunger, dinner was put off. My opportunity of hilarity to order a nice piece of meat and a burger at the same time was gone.

We looked at paint samples. We looked at kitchen models. We strolled down the bathroom fixture aisle. And right there, our plan came to fruition. Insanely good looking guy coming down the aisle right for us. I'm pointing to a shower head asking Erin a random question about it, and stop mid question. He breezes past us, and I am at a loss for words. I feel the giggles coming back. I suppress them. Erin is watching him walk away with look of adoration on her face. Neither of us thought so far ahead as to how to get the attention of the good looking men we find at Home Depot. We've been foiled by our own lack of proactive planning.

And then he's gone. We blink at each other, smile, express how nice his arms were, and carry on to the next aisle. After making our way back to the garden area, and not finding any more men to admire, I find the plant I wanted and head to the check out.

Shining glory, there he is. His items are being swiped, he's reaching for his wallet. We pick up the pace and decide that if I go through the self-check out aisle we'll match him for time and can accost him in the parking lot. But the check out girl at his counter must have had a plan of her own. She was chatting him up, slowing him down. I swiped my item, inserted my five dollar bill. I slowly reached for my receipt. Check out girl is still holding him captive.

We realise we would look like idiots if we hang around the exit, so we walk out into the parking lot. Stop and look for traffic--a girl can't be too safe walking to her car. Or, stop and look for traffic to stall even more and wait for the man of our dreams to follow us out. Not working. We get to the car, Erin fumbles for the keys, we both keep looking back at the exit way. He's not coming out.

We look at each other and decide that next week, we are going to the Home Depot in the north end of town where there is a Harvey's and surely, there will be more than one good looking guy.

Growing....Growing....Grown up

The facts of life have been hitting me hard lately. They have slapped me in the face and stated so clearly "You are a grown up" that there is no denying it.

I have been waffling through life for several years now, accepting my responsibilities but not really taking notice of them. Now I am staking them as my own--taking claim on what is mine and what is expected of me.

And it makes my heart race. Both in panic and in excitement.

During the past few months, I feel like I have shed my 'kid status' skin. And that the decisions I am currently in the midst of--such as quitting my job without having another one lined up, and packing up my life and moving to Toronto--that while on one hand seem irresponsible, on the other hand....make me feel like a grown up. I am taking the steps I want to take, I am taking control of the direction of my future. I have been overcome with some inexplicable self confidence that feels great.

One thing that has opened my eyes is the continual application to jobs. I have revamped my resume so many times now, and sent endless cover letters, that with each revision, I have found a little more value in my work experience each time. When I spell it all out in letters to head hunters, I read it again and think wow....I should be able to get a rather good job with all these things I've done!! I should not be thinking in terms of applying for administrative assistant jobs, I should be aiming higher, I deserve better, I can do better.

And feeling like that, makes me feel less like a kid and more like an adult.

But not everything is coming up roses. There are also negative situations that make me realize I'm not a kid anymore. Having friends who are not only getting married, but having friends who are also getting divorced--or at least, separating. That is a decision that one does not come to lightly. This is a grown up situation, and it's sitting right in front of my face. In fact, it's picketing around in front of me, signs so blatant and large--Deal with the facts, Melissa, you aren't a kid anymore and neither are your friends. So we all have to face life together, taking one stride at a time, and each step is farther away from those youthful days when what mattered most was who liked who, and what you and your bestest were going to do that weekend.

What else screams I am growing up? My new concern over my bank balance, and my sudden urge to get a control over my ill spending habits. About a year and a half ago, maybe two, I suddenly lost track of my good budgeting skills, and haven't managed to find my way back. Summer time never helps either, it's just too easy to spend spend spend in the summer. I have pull back on those reigns.

But alas. I will only look forward, and balance out the good and bad as best I can. I will accept this new found adulthood graciously.

Mostly, anyways.

A Date for the Date

While September is still a ways down the road, I am starting to experience a bit of panic. (Not over my impending move, which I am thoroughly delighted about.) But rather, panic of whom I am going to bring as my date to my brother's wedding.

In a combination between my poor skills of staying in touch with friends, my continual moving around, my neurotic theory that men are the plague and thus I must stay away from them or I will die a horrible death ~ a theory that I have worked very hard to lay to rest ~ and finally, my inability to say intelligent things to guys I meet, has resulted in one thing: I no longer have friends of the male variety.

Meaning I don't have anyone to act as a backup date should I fail to get a real date.

And apparently my friends feel that I just might not get one either. In fact, my dear friend Sophie feels so strong about this, she pimped off her friend Justin to me last night. She called me shortly after 9pm (shortly after she and Justin finished chugging a carbomb), and in an excited glee told me that she found my date. Justin came on the phone, and in his dazzling Aussie accent, told me that he was available for weddings and parties, and will keep the whole of September available just for me. He said it would be nice if we could meet before hand to work out the details and you know...get to know each other a bit. But that I should know he's easy going, not easy.... I was tempted to ask him if he charged a fee...

He then proceeded to give me his phone number and email address, as if he was serious. So now I ask myself, IS HE SERIOUS??? Which leads me to the thought of 'Well maybe now I have a backup...' As if I am contemplating this. As if I am contemplating Sophie's second hand date.

Wow. I need some options here folks. While I would be content to show up at the wedding with one of my girl friends, I don't really want put fuel on the fire over suspicions of which way my sexuality swings. I don't really date very much (uhh, see the reasons listed above) and when I do, I don't bring them around my family, because honestly, why would I do that? So I am always bringing a girl friend to things and it makes my family wonder. Even though I tell them, it doesn't seem to matter...grrr...families!!!! And then there is the option of going alone. Also a fine idea until I consider the guest list and cringe at the thought of my brother's weirdo friends hitting on me all night. Sigh.... So who do I have to ask? The boy....I could ask Jon, but that situation ended bizarre and while we claim to be friends, I just don't know if he would come.

I could just ask him to pimp out his friends....

He said he was a cowboy, but his Sean John shirt said otherwise.

If you might recall, I love beer. But what I love more than plain ol' beer, is drinking beer outside at a Beer Tent.

This past weekend was the Milverton Rodeo. It's part of the Dodge Rodeo Tour. I love going to the rodeo, but not to see the buckin' bronco's or the enormous bulls. I never make it in time to see the competitions, to hear the whinnies in the background, to see those men try for 8 seconds.

No. I'm a poser. I go to the rodeo after 9pm to go to the after parties. I go for the beer and to look for strapping men whose muscles might ripple along their shirt sleeves. To look for a man who might want to show me how to two-step.

(I'm not a very coordinated dancer....I bow my head with shame.)

There is just something about the dusty ground and cement floor of a pavilion, the sea of cowboy hats, and the semi-warm beer that makes me want to drive an hour out of town. There is something about drunk guys who tip their hat and flash a wicked grin my way. There is something amusing in creating fake names for myself and my friends, and telling these lies to perfect strangers with a big grin on my face (I'm kind of like that.).

Really, who would believe that my name is Betty, and my brunette friend is Veronica, and that we come from Riverdale? Who would believe that I have a kind-of-boyfriend named Archie, though I think he has the hots for Veronica, and we fight about it sometimes? Who would believe my tall friend over there is Moose, and that is his girlfriend Midge? You would not believe how many guys fall for this story. And those who say, "if he's you're kind-of-boyfriend, does that mean we can dance?" Just kidding, they don't say that.... But they don't always clue in. So then I walk away laughing and they don't know why. But I stick around and chat to those who say "Betty? Really??? I'm Archie!!!"

Enough of my lies. Back to my point. Milverton Rodeo. This was my first Milverton Rodeo. I've been to other rodeos in the past, but I have to say, this was the best one. My roomie Erin was right, it was as good as Christmas. Maybe even better.

I'm sad to announce I will not be attending the Exeter Rodeo. It's the same day as my brother's buck'n'doe down in Mississauga. Sigh.....those city kids better know what a buck'n'doe is all about, or this kid is gonna cause a ruckus. But I'm hoping to make it to St Marys Beer Tent next month...anyone want to come????

The Power of Suggestion

Ok. So now that Yvonne has said to me "that sales rep is cute" I can't stop thinking that yes, she is right. He is cute. And I am wondering if he is single. And what sort of senario I can plan to accidentally run into him outside of work. I know he lives in my neighbourhood. I wonder if he goes to the pub there. This could be interesting. I need to investigate.

What did you just ask??

Age is a tricky thing.

Here I sit at 27, a world of opportunity still presented before me. I am currently in a transition in concern to employment, and in my living arrangements~preparing myself for a move. All is good, things are going the direction I want them to.

Yet I get stuck on the age factor. A lot. No, not just a lot...ALL THE TIME. I did not ever think that I would grow up to be that person who worries about this. I think things like 'dear lord, I'm 27 and I haven't found a career yet,' but more often than not, I think 'dear lord, I'm 27, still single with no prospects in sight.' I can't believe I am that girl who thinks in the singledom vs coupledom process. Not to say that I don't enjoy being single, because I do, I'm having a fab time with my friends. And they are all (ok, most of them) single to, so it doesn't seem like a big deal.

However, I would like to point out that in the past two weeks, I have been asked a question three times I had not yet encountered in my 27 years. And it's bringing about the 'dear lord, I'm 27 and single' feelings in a not so nice fashion.

"Do you have any children?"

Do I have any children????? WTF!!!!!!! Usually I get asked "Are you old enough to be drinking that beer?" because I surely don't look like I'm 27. (Or behave as such). Do I have any children??? So now my neurosis over being 27 will evolve to 'dear lord, I'm 27, single, no prospects of marriage, and will have a withered up uterus in no time and not be able to have any children at all by the time I do get married....'

People should first ask "Are you married" before they ask if I have children. I know that marriage first is not always the case these days (my brother is a prime example), but still, be polite and ask. When I say no, assume there are no children.

Do I have children....sheesh. I don't even know if I want children. But I don't want a withered up uterus, I want the option to be there. Oh people.....how they distract me and make me think crazy things.

My friend, Stevie the TV

Being the single girl that I am, a single girl who loves to lounge around her apartment during the week rather than be sociable, I watch a lot of tv.

But it's not that I watch a million shows or anything. All these new shows....I haven't given them a chance at all. Instead, I watch reruns of CSI and CSI Miami everday. (Hello.....and the Simpsons and Friends. Who doesn't watch those??) With the exception of Grey's Anatomy on Thursdays, and of course the new episodes of CSI, my viewing isn't very extensive. I can't even be bothered to watch the new episodes of Miami--I'll just catch them on rerun somewhere down the line. On Friday's, I'm embarrassed to say, I watch this show called McLeod's Daughters--it's an Australian family drama, set on a farm.....and I love it to peices. It makes me want to be a farmer.

I dont' know what happened, I don't know what caused me to stop watching other TV shows. The year that Sex & The City and Friends ended, was a sad year for me. My two favourite shows~gone in an instant. I moved on to Desperate Housewives and The OC. We all know how ridiculous The OC was; the unbelievable and insane storyline, that thank heavens, came to a bizarre end this past February. I celebrated the day it came to it's series finale--I was hooked on that show; no matter how crazy it was, I was addicted--it's ending was a release for me!!! And the Housewives....I just plain ol' lost interest. I did not ever bother to start watching Lost, which I hear is a phenomenal show. Too bad for me.

The most bizarre thing about my TV habits....if I am going to be busy on a Thursday or Friday night, I will set my VCR to record Grey's Anatomy and McLeod's Daughters. I have a panic attack if I realise I didn't set the VCR and end up missing an episode. Grey's....I feel somewhat confident I will one day catch it on rerun, or that my friends will give me the goss on what happened. But I don't know anyone else who watches McLeod's Daughters, so if I miss it....I feel screwed.

The last time my boy came to visit (the one I lovingly referred to as a fuckhead....he's not a fuckhead today), he razzed me for having a VCR still. And my defence to him was I needed it to tape Grey's and McLeod's. He just laughed at me.

You know who doesn't laugh at me? My friend, Stevie the TV. Instead, Stevie is there for me, offering me endless hours of comfort and joy. Stevie knows how to treat a lady right.

I love Stevie the TV, and hope that he never leaves me.

Dating Tips for the Undateable

I would like to take a moment and hand out dating tips. Not that I am a dating expert or anything of the sort. But I'm a person with common sense. And common sense goes a long way.

Tip # 1. If you ask someone out on a date, and they make suggestions that you could do it another time, take the hint they don't want to go.

Tip # 2. Just because someone agrees to meet you for coffee (after turning down your invitation to dinner), do not assume they like you in any way other than a platonic aquaintance. They might just be really nice and don't want to hurt your feelings by blatantly saying no.

Tip # 2a. If you are asking out the daughter of a friend of yours, assume that they are only agreeing to meet you because you are a friend of her mother.

Tip # 3. Should you be in coversation with them about their future plans, and your date mentions that they are moving to another city, not back to their hometown where you live, do not express anger. It is creepy. Do not ask in an incredulous voice "Why would you move there!?! I don't like living in the city!" It makes your date feel like you are assuming they would want to move back to their hometown and move in with you. Trust me, your date does not want to do that.

Tip # 4. If you are on a date with someone, and their friend walks in and says "Hey, thought I'd stop by so that we can head over to Dayna's together", which is the reason why your date turned down dinner, due to plans already made for that evening, do not look at the said friend with an expression of annoyance and anger on your face. Again, this is creepy. Additionally, if a date's friend walked in on the date, it was staged. Take the hint your date does not like you.

Those are my tips. I know they are very specific tips, but I feel that you could take these tips and generalize them some to apply to your own life.

Good luck. Don't creep out your dates.