I'm 98% committed to online dating again. I'm trying something new this time and we'll see how it goes. You do realize what this means for you, Internets, don't you? Yes. More frequent blog posts due to the almost certain crazy dating stories I will be collecting.
But you'll have to wait until I muster up that other two percent of commitment. One half of it is paying for the genius algorithms to find me prince charming, and the other half is me finding some more recent--and decent--pictures of myself, of which I have none.
It appears that in the last 6-9 months, the only pictures that have been taken of me are either me in heavy stage make-up and a sky-high Marge Simpson/Amadeus wig, or of me doing barracuda. What is barracuda, you ask? Well it is simultaneously the most funny and most hideous picture that has ever, E-V-E-R-! been taken of you. It's like a college hook-up, fun for a night, but after that you must destroy all evidence of it ever happening. And because I have no photographic evidence of barracuda to show you (seriously, this is the stuff that would ruin political careers), I'm just going to have to tell you how to do it yourself.
Step 1: Take a deep breath and face the person holding the camera. Make sure they act quickly, this happens fast and they can't be slow on the trigger.
Step 2: As obnoxiously as you can, blow all the air in your lungs out through your mouth with your lips closed but loose. You should be making what best resembles "motorboat" mouth, or, you know, that horse sound.
Step 3: As soon as you start doing that, the person with the camera needs to take the picture. If you have a slow one, they should probably press the button while you're taking your deep breath.
Step 4: Look at the picture and pee your pants laughing, because you look ridiculously terrible. I'm sorry to say it, but you do. Guaranteed. The only people that look good in these photos are those who are doing it wrong. Looking good is impossible.
And, because I'm trying to make a good impression with potential suitors, barracuda photos will not be posted on the dating site. It's a face that not even a mother could love, but damn if it's not funny.
2.15.2009
Retail therapy
I have a post-break-up tendency: shopping. After the Marinara Jar, I escaped to IKEA with friends and impulsively bought a dresser. A dresser? A dresser. It's not that I really needed a dresser either, but a little bit I did, and that little bit is what overtook my brain and made it unfathomable for me to leave that store without it.
This break up, however, has been very different--musings on that later this week--it's been healthy. And I feel really good about myself, the situation, and even good about New Friend. But just because it's different doesn't mean that my urge to shop dissipated, I've just been able to channel that energy toward more effective things, like shoes!
Let's get one thing straight, Little Ms. Notetaker does NOT like to shop, except if it is for shoes. And another thing, Little Ms. Notetaker is practical, so even in the midst of her footwear frenzy, she is always a) searching for a bargain, and b) thinking of the sensible shoe. Look and style are extremely important, but comfort and quality cannot be trumped.
This past weekend, I went up to Vancouver to visit some very dear friends, and as luck would have it, we stumbled into a shoe sale at a store that has now become the "happy place" I will visit in all future meditations. I went in looking for a pair of brown boots. Having no luck finding a suitable pair after trying on a dozen, I settled on finding a pair of dressy brown shoes, which I found and fell in love with immediately. I also proceeded to find a pair of red shoes, black shoes, and for good measure another pair of brown ones. Look and style, check. Comfort, check. Quality, check. And the bonus? All of them were at least half off. I will admit that it was still quite an amount to declare at the border, but I also emphatically declared to the border guard that they are well worth it.
Note to self: Sometimes little splurges like weekends away and shoe shopping sprees are just what you need--good for the sole and the soul.
This break up, however, has been very different--musings on that later this week--it's been healthy. And I feel really good about myself, the situation, and even good about New Friend. But just because it's different doesn't mean that my urge to shop dissipated, I've just been able to channel that energy toward more effective things, like shoes!
Let's get one thing straight, Little Ms. Notetaker does NOT like to shop, except if it is for shoes. And another thing, Little Ms. Notetaker is practical, so even in the midst of her footwear frenzy, she is always a) searching for a bargain, and b) thinking of the sensible shoe. Look and style are extremely important, but comfort and quality cannot be trumped.
This past weekend, I went up to Vancouver to visit some very dear friends, and as luck would have it, we stumbled into a shoe sale at a store that has now become the "happy place" I will visit in all future meditations. I went in looking for a pair of brown boots. Having no luck finding a suitable pair after trying on a dozen, I settled on finding a pair of dressy brown shoes, which I found and fell in love with immediately. I also proceeded to find a pair of red shoes, black shoes, and for good measure another pair of brown ones. Look and style, check. Comfort, check. Quality, check. And the bonus? All of them were at least half off. I will admit that it was still quite an amount to declare at the border, but I also emphatically declared to the border guard that they are well worth it.
Note to self: Sometimes little splurges like weekends away and shoe shopping sprees are just what you need--good for the sole and the soul.
2.11.2009
Fine, I'll be that into me
Note to self: You're worth it.
I had it all planned out. I would leave work at 5:00 (for the first time in a long time), and treat myself to a movie before play rehearsal at 8:00. As of late, I've been working right up to the start of rehearsal and then even through rehearsals, but tonight I wanted to buck that 12+ hour day.
Ever since I was given the Kevin Arnold, I've been itching to see He's Just Not That Into You--it's just too apropos. So I found it playing at a local theater and took myself to it. And when I walked into the lobby, I thought I had accidentally walked into the lobby of the W Hotel--posh furniture, fire places, something wasn't right. In the absence of a plexiglass ticket window, I walked up to a few people standing around computer terminals and blurted out, "One for He's Not That Into Me... er... You." I don't think it was too obvious why I was there, alone, do you?
One of the guys looked at me, punched the order into the computer and said, "Sure. That will be $27."
"What the FU--" I stopped short, because apparently this was a classy theatre.
"We offer more than your average theater. It's an intimate viewing experience, with fewer seats than a crammed theater, options to view [view, not order. Ordering costs more] our food and beverage menus, cushioned chairs that fully recline--"
"No way is that worth it."
"Oh, it's definitely worth it--these are really comfortable seats."
"No, I meant that movie."
I left, and on the way to the parking lot I thought about returning to work instead of keeping this "date" with myself. And as ridiculous as it may sound to spend more money on seeing the movie in the theatre than it will be to own it outright when it reaches DVD, I honored my self date. And I had a good time, I probably won't wait the customary three days to call myself, and best of all, there's absolutely no pressure to put out.
I had it all planned out. I would leave work at 5:00 (for the first time in a long time), and treat myself to a movie before play rehearsal at 8:00. As of late, I've been working right up to the start of rehearsal and then even through rehearsals, but tonight I wanted to buck that 12+ hour day.
Ever since I was given the Kevin Arnold, I've been itching to see He's Just Not That Into You--it's just too apropos. So I found it playing at a local theater and took myself to it. And when I walked into the lobby, I thought I had accidentally walked into the lobby of the W Hotel--posh furniture, fire places, something wasn't right. In the absence of a plexiglass ticket window, I walked up to a few people standing around computer terminals and blurted out, "One for He's Not That Into Me... er... You." I don't think it was too obvious why I was there, alone, do you?
One of the guys looked at me, punched the order into the computer and said, "Sure. That will be $27."
"What the FU--" I stopped short, because apparently this was a classy theatre.
"We offer more than your average theater. It's an intimate viewing experience, with fewer seats than a crammed theater, options to view [view, not order. Ordering costs more] our food and beverage menus, cushioned chairs that fully recline--"
"No way is that worth it."
"Oh, it's definitely worth it--these are really comfortable seats."
"No, I meant that movie."
I left, and on the way to the parking lot I thought about returning to work instead of keeping this "date" with myself. And as ridiculous as it may sound to spend more money on seeing the movie in the theatre than it will be to own it outright when it reaches DVD, I honored my self date. And I had a good time, I probably won't wait the customary three days to call myself, and best of all, there's absolutely no pressure to put out.
2.10.2009
Because I recycled the actual can
And now for something completely different. Look what I found while browsing the Internets, a picture of Malcolm Gladwell: 
But if you look closely you'll see, it's a picture of him, speaking at my work, at a podium, with his can of Pepsi. Tell me, what can't you find on the Internets?
But if you look closely you'll see, it's a picture of him, speaking at my work, at a podium, with his can of Pepsi. Tell me, what can't you find on the Internets?
2.08.2009
Giving him "friends"
There is something going on inside the male brain that perplexes me greatly. And I've heard it enough times to think it's more than just a coincidence. I think it's a little more global, it's what I like to call the Kevin Arnold (KA) syndrome. 
And to be fair, whenever I encounter someone suffering from the KA syndrome, I immediately have a Becky Slater (BS) reflex.
The Wonder Years was pretty foundational to my adolescent development, which is why I think this syndrome and subsequent reflex resonate so soundly with me (and potentially why all the 30-something guys I date seem to have this chronic disease). This particular episode is emblazoned in my mind--and absolutely nails how people generally are in relationships... in junior high and even as adults. In the event you have no idea what I'm talking about, here's the gist:
Kevin is going steady with Becky, but he really likes Winnie. When he realizes he may have a chance with Winnie, he breaks up with Becky and it goes a little something like this:
KEVIN: Becky, we have to break up. I still like Winnie Cooper. We can still be friends though. [BECKY half-turns then turns back. KEVIN pats BECKY's shoulder... BECKY punches KEVIN in the stomach as she stands up.]
BECKY: Oh yeah, "friends?!" [Another punch in the stomach.] I'll give you "friends." [BECKY slugs KEVIN's chin, knocking him to the ground, then storms out of the room.]
In the endings of all of my longish-term adult relationships, this has always been one thing that's driven me crazy, the "I'd-like-to-still-hangout-and-be-friends" phenomenon. I was talking with DangerGirl yesterday, and she joked about how it's always like the guy is giving us a consolation prize, "Thanks for playing. Sorry you didn't win, but I have an excellent parting gift for you, you can continue hanging out with me!" Whoopee!
And it's that absolute idiocy that triggers my BS reflex. When New Friend made me the Kevin Arnold offer, it was everything I had not to punch him in the gut and give him "friends." Instead I scoffed at the idea and told him that I hardly think that will be possible. Which got me thinking, as I drove away from his place, "why do guys always think that's the alternative we're looking for?" Which lead me to, "why do I always reject it immediately?" Which has me thinking now, "maybe I can be a little more open to forgiveness and love."
Note to self: You can be better than Becky Slater. Rise above the BS reflex.
That's not to say that I'm going to actively pursue friendship with New Friend, I'm actually going to do nothing for awhile and there is still a huge part of me that really wants to de-friend him on Facebook. But maybe, just maybe if I take a moment to pause and think of him in terms of friendship, it will serve me better than thinking of him through the resentment I'm carrying in my heart. Just a thought.
And to be fair, whenever I encounter someone suffering from the KA syndrome, I immediately have a Becky Slater (BS) reflex.The Wonder Years was pretty foundational to my adolescent development, which is why I think this syndrome and subsequent reflex resonate so soundly with me (and potentially why all the 30-something guys I date seem to have this chronic disease). This particular episode is emblazoned in my mind--and absolutely nails how people generally are in relationships... in junior high and even as adults. In the event you have no idea what I'm talking about, here's the gist:
Kevin is going steady with Becky, but he really likes Winnie. When he realizes he may have a chance with Winnie, he breaks up with Becky and it goes a little something like this:
KEVIN: Becky, we have to break up. I still like Winnie Cooper. We can still be friends though. [BECKY half-turns then turns back. KEVIN pats BECKY's shoulder... BECKY punches KEVIN in the stomach as she stands up.]
BECKY: Oh yeah, "friends?!" [Another punch in the stomach.] I'll give you "friends." [BECKY slugs KEVIN's chin, knocking him to the ground, then storms out of the room.]
In the endings of all of my longish-term adult relationships, this has always been one thing that's driven me crazy, the "I'd-like-to-still-hangout-and-be-friends" phenomenon. I was talking with DangerGirl yesterday, and she joked about how it's always like the guy is giving us a consolation prize, "Thanks for playing. Sorry you didn't win, but I have an excellent parting gift for you, you can continue hanging out with me!" Whoopee!
And it's that absolute idiocy that triggers my BS reflex. When New Friend made me the Kevin Arnold offer, it was everything I had not to punch him in the gut and give him "friends." Instead I scoffed at the idea and told him that I hardly think that will be possible. Which got me thinking, as I drove away from his place, "why do guys always think that's the alternative we're looking for?" Which lead me to, "why do I always reject it immediately?" Which has me thinking now, "maybe I can be a little more open to forgiveness and love."
Note to self: You can be better than Becky Slater. Rise above the BS reflex.
That's not to say that I'm going to actively pursue friendship with New Friend, I'm actually going to do nothing for awhile and there is still a huge part of me that really wants to de-friend him on Facebook. But maybe, just maybe if I take a moment to pause and think of him in terms of friendship, it will serve me better than thinking of him through the resentment I'm carrying in my heart. Just a thought.
2.06.2009
Hello, Drawing Board.
And just like that, Little Ms. Notetaker is single again. And I knew, I knew it was going to happen, I was just in serious denial. I wanted to believe so badly that it wasn't, that my gut was wrong, but it wasn't and I knew it. Ugh. Sometimes I hate it when I'm right.
I'm angry. And I'm hurt, but mostly I'm tired. I really don't want to have to do this all over again. It's exhausting. And there's a little feeling in my gut that I will always be single--and that I really need to accept that fact. And the sooner I do that, the sooner I can just get on with life. But that's not the reality I want. So what do you do about that? Cry about it to the Internets on a Friday night? Well, that's what I'm doing.
Deep down (buried just beyond my bitterness), I know that this is a blessing. That this is actually freeing me up for amazingness beyond my wildest imagination. But that's the thing, how long can a girl sustain her imagination? Someday, New Friend will be replaced by a better, newer, thinner--ooh, did I say that? Well, I did mention that I was hurt and bitter, so I may as well add passive aggressive--friend. Someone worthy. Someone who will feel a damn spark. What the hell? It's not like I'm a cold wet rag, am I? I like to think I'm actually fun, outgoing, and sparky. So what's with all the duds?
I'm angry. And I'm hurt, but mostly I'm tired. I really don't want to have to do this all over again. It's exhausting. And there's a little feeling in my gut that I will always be single--and that I really need to accept that fact. And the sooner I do that, the sooner I can just get on with life. But that's not the reality I want. So what do you do about that? Cry about it to the Internets on a Friday night? Well, that's what I'm doing.
Deep down (buried just beyond my bitterness), I know that this is a blessing. That this is actually freeing me up for amazingness beyond my wildest imagination. But that's the thing, how long can a girl sustain her imagination? Someday, New Friend will be replaced by a better, newer, thinner--ooh, did I say that? Well, I did mention that I was hurt and bitter, so I may as well add passive aggressive--friend. Someone worthy. Someone who will feel a damn spark. What the hell? It's not like I'm a cold wet rag, am I? I like to think I'm actually fun, outgoing, and sparky. So what's with all the duds?
2.02.2009
Like liking it
Internets, have you noticed how anything caramel-related, is now salted? And if it's really fancy, it's sea salted. When did this become all the rage? Overnight, I think. I think there was a memo to all the cafes, bakeries, chocolatiers, and Trader Joe's of the world.
I'm not complaining. I like caramel. I like salt. I like the sea.
In fact I'm liking them all together. Right now. I can't stop liking them.
I'm not complaining. I like caramel. I like salt. I like the sea.
In fact I'm liking them all together. Right now. I can't stop liking them.
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