The new scent for men to drive women mad! Just not with desire.

It happened again. Dana wrote about the first experience, Beer Goggles - Parts 1 & 2. Scroll down on the link and you'll see what I'm talking about. I told myself the night of Beer Goggles that I would not wear a certain red t-shirt to karaoke ever again. Now I need to add a red sweater to that collection of non-public shirts.

The evening started off great. Dana and I pull up to the karaoke bar, ready for our soda and some great singers. A group of singers were there and we actually got to hear a duet of Picture that we didn't hate. Horrible song, pretty melody.

The group of great singers leave and it opens the door for a young man celebrating his birthday to get up and sing. There are great songs to sing at karaoke. Neil Diamond is a popular choice. Joe Cocker works well. Any country song tends to go over well in the bar we attend. Metallica does not fit in well. The young man decided to sing Sad But True by Metallica. It was not pretty. Here's a clue - the words are on the monitor.

Dana and I are karaoke junkies. If you get up and sing, we will clap. We may not yell, "Whoo-hoo!" if you torture our ears, but we do clap because the effort to sing is appreciated. He got the polite golf clap. It was short.

This was his clue to meander back to his seat and down a few more drinks. Once filled up with the nectar-not-of-the-gods, he beelined me. I feel I now understand what matadors feel as the bull runs towards the red flag. Unfortunately, I don't have a deadly weapon hidden in my bra.

Bryan was wonderful. As this man came up to our table, he called me up to sing. I tried a new song, not a good one by the way, and he stared at me singing. As much as I did not enjoy the song I was singing, it unfortunately came to an end and I had to return to my chair.

As I sit down across from Dana, he sits down next to me. "May I sit here?" he asks.

Here is my problem. I don't like being mean. He's drunk and never really did anything bad to me (except for the Metallica - which, don't get me wrong, I like Metallica. This seems like an odd choice of music for me, but I do enjoy the occasional Metallica song). The inherent part of my character comes out and I say, "Well, it's the last song of the night. I don't care." He sits.

Leaning forward, he breaths, "What's your story?" He doesn't talk. He's drunk and slurring words. I think he said, "What's your story?" It sounded as if he said, "Whaaaaaaaaaaa blah u-ba sor-ie?"

I look at Dana and the telepathic thought occurs. She understands my, "Oh God, not again. I hate red shirts. Maybe I'll wear a tarp next time."

"Everyone's got a story," he starts in again. "It might be short, like I went to the store, or it might be long. What's your story? How did you get here?"

Well buddy, I made it to karaoke by driving my car. I had two options, walk or use a mechanical vehicle to cover a distance of space. At this point, I'm still not responding.

He leans closer to me and exhales (he doesn't really speak. I'm pretty sure the ability to use one's vocal chords in normal fashion has left him), "So, what's your story?" (Or, Whaaaaaaaaaa ya sor-ie?)

I have to answer him. I say, "We came to karaoke. End of story."

Here's a clue. If you are talking to someone, hitting on them in a bar, you can tell if they are interested in the way they talk to you. If they answer your questions with simple, straightforward answers and do not extend the conversation by asking you questions, they are not interested.

"You have a good voice." (Or as I heard, "Ya haf go boyce.")

I reply, "Whatever." Does he get it with this? No, no he does not.

Michael, singing the last song, is now finishing up his rendition of Johnny Cash's Hurt. He is doing a wonderful job and I want to enjoy the song. It's a great song!

Interrupting the wonderful singing by Michael (a regular at karaoke and a super nice individual) is the drunk man next to me. "Who sings this?" (Whooooooooo ingzzzz diz?)

"Michael is singing it now. The version he is singing is Johnny Cash."

"Oh, he's good." (O, ez goo.)

Michael ends the song and Bryan says goodnight to the audience. He notices the horrible state of affairs at our table. Walking over to us, he starts speaking to Dana and myself. While we are eagerly conversing with Bryan, the drunk man feels ignored and finally wanders off. THANK YOU!

I explain to Bryan and Dana the interesting 'cologne' this gentleman used this evening. Maybe it's because he kept breathing on me or it might have been the fact he smelled like he took a bath in golden suds, I was not attracted to his overpowering stench of beer.

I may not be a beer drinker, however I understand that some people do desire the taste of a good bottle of suds. That's fine by me. As I stated, I'm not a beer drinker, but my sense of smell can differentiate from someone toasted on Guiness versus Bud Lite. I don't even have a problem with people drinking, in moderation. It is when the top brain stops working and bottom brain takes over, men start annoying me.

Driving Dana home, we noticed a billboard advertising the "Great Taste" of a brand of beer. Notice the sign pointed out the sense of taste, not the sense of smell. Beer breath is not attractive.

I learned something at karaoke this week. I learned being polite gets you nowhere when someone has lost the ability of complex thought. I learned red is not my color (or maybe it is - that could be the problem). I also learned how Dana and Bryan can be lifesavers. The red sweater is going into retirement.

2 Comments:

At 11:40 AM, CarpeDM said...

Next time, I'm wearing the low cut red shirt (which I don't own so apparently I need to go shopping). Let's see if my "girls" can get some attention. They are long overdue for some ogling.

I loved this post, Beth. When something like this happens, the only thought that really goes through your head is "Oh, God, please make him go away." It's after the fact that you can look back and laugh at the silly drunks.

Why are we so nice to them? It's not like they're going to remember it. And I think Bryan (and maybe even Bobby) will have our backs.

At 4:39 PM, Matt said...

Always rememebr the occasional Big Brother that will have your back as well, I will always be there for you, just call. I am sorry that I was not there, I would have liked to have seen what would have happened if I was.
Matt
P.S. Should I wear my low cut red shirt next time? I bet I might get some attention with my bongos.....

I hate, I hate, I hate bugs

Everyone has a fear or two. Let me just say, spiders and other bugs freak me out!

I already wrote about how today exhausted me. See the post below for that information. I walk into my apartment tonight. My first objective, use the bathroom. You know how it is. I walk in the small room and am getting ready to use the facilities when I look down. There is a bee crawling on the floor. It might have been a wasp actually. I know it was something with a stinger.

All by myself, I screamed. Then reality set in, this is not a large monster who will bite my head off in 2 seconds. It is a crippled bug crawling on the tiles of my bathroom. I can deal with this.

I wear boots. I like boots. I don't have to worry about whether or not my socks match my shirt since no one can see my socks. What is the point about the boots? They're good for squishing bugs. Normally.

Composing myself, I decide to step on the bug. Squish.

Problem solved, I lift up my foot. The bug is still crawling.

Okay, panic is trying to set in. I fight it off. Logic is telling me there is no reason to freak out. I'm not allergic to bees. This crosses my mind. Then logic kicks in again and tells me, "But stings hurt."

It is time to squish the bug again. I do this.

Since the first step didn't kill it, I move my foot around, trying to ensure the squishing of the bug.

Now I lift my foot.

This flippin' bug is still moving around.

And then it starts flying!

I scream again. Yes, I did scream again. My neighbors are probably trying to figure out why I'm screaming after midnight.

The bug flew, but not for long. One of the steps was crippling enough to take the distance out of it's flight pattern.

This is when I realize the boots I'm wearing have a pretty decent tread on them. I'm pretty sure I just covered the bug with my foot, I didn't actually squish it.

What am I to do? I spied (with my little eye) my brown boots nearby. I grabbed one of them, checking the bottom and seeing no tread. Hallelujah! I use my right hand as a foot and plant the boot down on the bug. It squished. I heard it.

Happy, I lift up my boot. The bug flew at me! This is a super bug!

Did I scream again?

No, but I wanted to. I ran away from the bug. I gave the bug the evil eye. It stopped flying at that point.

The crawling around was getting slower so I pulled up my courage to try again. Finally, my squishing technique showed success and the bug was dead. It was also in three pieces. I had to make sure.

I discarded the evil bug with the helpful tissue. It is gone, but not forgotten.

2 Comments:

At 1:44 AM, angelia said...

Beth, you are definately the comic relief of the night. I adore your bug story. Hey, everyone has a fear....a fear of bugs is legitimate for many people. Smile!

At 9:32 AM, Firebear said...

People match their socks with their shirt? I thought that was an urban legend.

Ew, ew, ew

As I stood in front of my closet today, my brain still half-asleep, it never crossed my mind that a green, overly large, untucked, and non-form fitting polo shirt I picked out would have caused the experience I later had at work.

I'm standing at work, five hours later, talking to a banker on our team. What are you supposed to say when someone is obviously not making eye contact, not because they're shy, but because their eyes can't seem to pull away from another area? This employee was flat out staring at my chest. This shirt shows absolutely nothing of my chest and is not a flattering shirt. I don't get it.

This really bothered me, obviously, I wouldn't be blogging about it if it didn't. I think what concerns me the most is that he wasn't listening to the answer of the question he asked. Not with his eyes practically falling out of his head. It was like one of those cartoons, you know, where the lead sees someone they are attracted to and to emphasize it, the eyes start bouncing around the screen.

I feel dirty.

3 Comments:

At 11:23 AM, CarpeDM said...

No way. What a jerk.

I would suggest one of two things - either you let Matt or I talk to this person or you maybe mention it to HR if it happens again. No one should ever be made to feel this way.

At 9:14 PM, angelia said...

I am sorry that happend to you!

At 11:43 AM, Firebear said...

I like breast as much as the next guy, but would expect better of a professional in a work location

I'm pretty sure it's my choice in men

The final straw in my dating disastrous life is about a man I met a long time ago.

I was nineteen, just coming home from my first year at college, ready for a long summer of fun with old friends. My parents told me a couple of men would be staying at our home for three weeks to learn about running businesses in a democratic society. The two men were Ukrainian and one was my age.

At first, I was not interested in the fact there would be visitors at our home. I always had fun with the guests. Hosting foreigners is always a learning experience and I learned a lot this time.

Alex was my age. He walked in the front door and I got my first look at him. He was tall, cute in a dorky sort of way, and he smelled great! The thought crossed my mind, 'This might not be so bad after all.' Not that I really thought it would be bad, I just didn't imagine the time to be so good.

Since we were the same age and younger than the other participants by at least 5 years, Alex and I spent a lot of time together. He wanted to see what nineteen-year olds in America did for fun. We went to carnivals, movies, and played pool often.

When others were around, he kept the fact he spoke English low-key. He did not want to be the translator for his group, but he spoke English just fine. Our conversations would go for hours and we laughed all the time.

Alex showed me so much. I was accustomed to diversity before meeting him, however he opened my eyes even more. In knowing him, I learned I could have a great friend in any part of the world. Interests are common and nationalities, races, religion, or any other difference doesn't mean much on an individual level. It's too bad that governments can't see this and the regular guy is always the one who has to deal with the ego-maniacs in charge.

I introduced him to country music. This is odd, since I'm not a country fan. He loved Garth Brooks music. We watched movies together. I think his favorite during the visit was Men in Black. He would walk around saying, "I'm ze best of ze best of ze best!" Okay, I thought it was incredibly cute.

Alex was the perfect man for me to meet at nineteen. Before meeting him, I never believed in love at first sight. I do now. Sometimes it just clicks. I fell for him and I fell hard.

At night, we would sit together downstairs talking. We shared our dreams and fears. We discussed our plans in life. I enjoyed every single moment with Alex and I cherish those memories today.

On the night before he was supposed to return to Ukraine, there was a banquet in the honor of the guests. I drove him to the dinner and he said to me, "I miss my parents, but I don't want to go home. I don't know the words to express what I'm feeling." I believe in my heart the words cannot be expressed. I felt it too.

The realization he was leaving, to live across an ocean, hit me. I was a total wreck at the dinner. Speeches about the experiences with the guests were shared. I stole away to the bathroom a couple of times to dry my eyes and compose myself. We returned home, knowing that the morning would come faster than we wanted it to. It was late before we turned in for bed. I slept terribly that night.

In the morning, I ventured to the living room and spoke to my parents. Something was wrong. My dad told me that Alex was sick. Since he wouldn't speak English around my parents, they did not understand what was wrong. They thought it was nerves, butterflies in the stomach.

I went to speak to Alex. Here is our conversation:

B: Alex, what is wrong?
A: I have a pain.
B: Where?
A: It is like a knife right here.
He pointed to his lower right torso. I'm not a doctor but I knew this wasn't butterflies in the stomach.

I went downstairs and spoke to my parents. "I think Alex has a problem with his appendix." So instead of leaving for the airport, we went to the emergency room.

I helped Alex check in with the nurses and he was admitted. The doctors checked him out and he was off to surgery. My family paced around the waiting room, waiting for news. Finally, a doctor came out to tell us that Alex was back in his room.

It was appendicitis. If he had gotten on the plane, his appendix would have burst in mid-air and he would have died of blood poisoning. As scary as the experience was, we were happy to have Alex safe and sound. He was prohibited to fly for another week and this was probably some of the best news I ever heard.

During that extra week, Alex and I spent even more time together. That month was the one of the best of my life. I smiled and laughed every day. And every day, I knew that his flight was getting closer.

I would have married him. Right then and there. I fell head over heels in love with a man who lived across the globe. The logical part of my brain told me this would never work. My heart screamed at me to fight for any chance I could get. I look back and I still would have married him to have him stay.

My mom knew what I was feeling. She understood how much I did not want to let him go. She held my passport as we said good-bye to leave for the airport. It was all she could do to not buy me a ticket to fly to Ukraine with Alex. I would have gone. Looking back, I am glad I did not go, not because of Alex, but because of all I would miss here. I love the life I have. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my home. It is a hard decision to leave all that you know for the hope of something great. Life throws scary moments at you and those moments change you. I know now where I belong. As much as it pains me to say it, I couldn't give up for him what I wanted him to give up for me.

Alex promised me at the airport he would come back. We planned on visiting him in Ukraine. I did not give up hope of seeing him again.

My sunglasses stayed on the entire time at the airport. My eyes watered and I struggled internally with letting him go. It was time for him to board the plane. We stood up and walked to the boarding area. He paused before giving the attendant his ticket. He turned to me and kissed my cheek. It was time to say good-bye. I could barely speak. Few words were spoken and he turned back to the attendant.

She took his ticket and ushered him on. He turned back for one last look before he was out of sight, forever. His eyes brimmed with tears and then he was gone. I lost it. My dad and I went to the window to watch his plane taxi down the runway and take off into the sky. I stood at the window, regaining my composure, watching the man I loved leave me. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

Once the plane was out of sight, I walked to the car with my dad. He drove me home. We were silent. My parents were also sad to see Alex leave. He touched our home in ways I could never explain.

I wrote him letters for the first year after his departure. During the first three months, I went home on my lunch break every day to check the mail. Any news would have lifted my spirits higher than that plane taking him away could soar. There was nothing.

It was two and a half years before I heard from him again. One night I checked my email and there was a one line email from him. The communications in Ukraine are not as good as in America. He had received my letters, he was hoping my email account still worked.

Long story short, the letters he wrote never arrived. Either he had the wrong address or there was a problem with getting them out of Ukraine. After two and a half years, he finally was able to get an email account. The fact he hadn't forgotten about me refreshed all hopes I had. He sent me email cards, pretty and romantic. The emails were usually short, his confidence in writing in English was really low.

Finally, after five years, he was able to get ahold of a chat program. We were able to 'talk' live. This usually happened around 3 in the morning, my time. I asked him repeatedly about his life. He always responded by saying that he worked a lot. He is a lawyer working in politics. He helps write laws and proposals for parliament.

I helped him to get some computer equipment for his laptop. It turns out, Dell won't ship outside of the United States. He needed a replacement battery for his computer (which cost quite a bit) and then I had to Fed-Ex it to Ukraine (this cost twice as much as the battery). I was happy to do this. If I could make his computer work better, I could talk to him more often.

He received the battery and we spoke again online. He emailed me a couple of pictures. One was of him, smiling that sweet smile I fell in love with. The second picture was the people he worked with.

As I looked at the picture, I noticed a pretty young woman in the group. You know the type. Blonde, thin, blue eyes, and beautiful. She smiled at the camera with that 'I'm confident, happy, and in control' look. Something told me to wonder about her.

I asked Alex who all these people were. His description was so nonchalant. He said, 'The first man is such-and-such, my boss. The woman next to him is fill in a name, she is a secretary in the office. Next to her is the manager of something important. The forth person is the head of some department. The fifth person is Tatiana. She is in charge of something and is my wife. The next person is..." Okay, I don't remember what all the people were in charge or who they were. He explained each one and casually inserted the fact that this blonde, beautiful, and confident woman was his wife.

Okay, now I understand the whole not putting your life on hold because there is someone across the ocean who cares for you deeply, but when someone asks you what has happened in the last five years of your life, mentioning that you got MARRIED is not something you forget! When I read that sentence, my stomach dropped almost as much as my mouth. How do you respond to something like this?

I'm happy for Alex. Expecting him to return to America to spend his life with me was a pretty unrealistic fantasy. But it was nice to dream. Five years does change people and I knew he wasn't going to come back. I think it was just the delivery and finality of it that hit me so hard.

I still admire Alex. He is a personal hero of mine. I learned so much from his visit to our home and the way he lives his life inspires me to become a better person. I will always remember him, that man walking down the hallway towards his plane and the look on his face. He touched my heart and showed me that love, even if it doesn't last, is worth the pain.

But seriously, why do I fall for guys I have no chance to be with? I find a wonderful, charming, respectful, cute, intelligent, kind, courteous, funny, straight man who cares for me as much as I do him but of course he lives across the globe. I'm doomed. That's all that's to it.

3 Comments:

Matt said...

You are not doomed. You will find the right man, and he had better pass all of the tests that he has to, because if he doesn't I feel soory for him. Not because of the physical pain that he will be feeling, can you guess from who?, but from the wonderful joy he will be missing out on getting to spend time with a person as wonderful, charming, funny, beautiful, and intelligent as you. So do not fret, I will not let my Little Sister go through her life that way.

At 11:21 AM, CarpeDM said...

You know what I don't get? How can someone as perfect as Alex be such an idiot? "Hey, Alex, I haven't spoken to you in 5 years. What's new?" "Oh, I'm glad you asked, Beth. I got married." How hard is that to say?

As much as this post made me cry because of the romantic turmoil you were in and the obvious love between you, I am also glad that you didn't get on the plane. I would miss the heck out of you. I realize that I didn't know you then but I would still miss you. You're family now.

And Matt's right, the right guy is out there for you. And he better watch his step. Else I will fork him!

At 11:44 AM, Firebear said...

Thank you for sharing this story.

A good day

Today was a good day. Being Monday and my day off, I slept in pretty late. Adam called me at 3:30 in the afternoon and I woke up. The hot shower woke me up fully and then Keem and Dana stopped by for a couple of hours. We had some good scrapbooking conversations and I showed them my new project. I'm taking pictures (duplicates of ones already in scrapbooks) and making my own type of frames for them. I bought some magnets and now have covered the closet doors of my apartment with pictures of those I love.

Adam came over to spend time with me. We went out to dinner and played some cards. It was like old times. I miss my former roommate. It was really nice to spend a few hours with him, just chatting. I really miss coming home and seeing him in the living room. Don't get me wrong, I love my place and I love living alone, but it does get a little lonely. I spend a lot of time on the computer, scrapbooking, and watching movies. When there is no one else on the same schedule as yourself, it is easy to get shut off from the world. Maybe one of these days it will change. Whatever happens, happens.

I made some more of my frames for the closets and I'm currently watching a bunch of Frankenstein movies. They are interesting to say the least.

I checked my hit counter and found the strangest search for my site. Someone found my site by searching for the phrase, "wanted to ream her". Slightly scary. I'm wondering what context they were looking for.

I'm planning another dating disaster post. This may explain why I am doomed to be alone. I don't really believe that, but it sometimes feels hopeless. Onto the next post!

Another dating disaster

Some of my recent posts have been about the dating disasters in my life. I'm not good at it. Who knows why? Is it me? Is it the guys I find attractive? Is it that something better is supposed to be coming? In the spirit of my recent posts, I'm going to share my experiences with a boy I dated for awhile in high school.

Harry was good looking. I mean he was the boy all the girls swooned over. He was intelligent, funny, fit, and nice to look at. Notice I didn't mention decent human being.

As smart as Harry was, he did some stupid stuff. He was smart, I want to point that out. He aced classes at school without any effort and sometimes this is the worst factor in making a guy want to push boundaries. When one is bored, one looks for something to do.

Harry's mother had to deal with the police one day because her son had been seen throwing vinyl records from their roof at people walking by. He was trying to see if albums could fly like freesbies. He almost decapitated someone. So the police showed up on the front stoop.

I was eighteen when I dated Harry. He was seventeen so there were things he couldn't do and wanted to. One night, we stopped at the video store for a movie and he tried to convince me to rent porn. Not being into porn, I declined his request. His cousin, fifteen and tagging along since he couldn't drive, found some educational videos that they could rent. The boys rented a video about breast feeding.

What were they thinking? Breast feeding is not erotic. This should have been evident in the fact that they could rent it without being eighteen. (And I don't know why seventeen-year olds can't rent porn. They can see rated R movies, but whatever.) The boys did not make it very far into the video and even if they didn't really learn about breast feeding, they learned about what not to watch.

As the school year drew towards the end, Harry and I went out to the drive-in one night. His cousin, Brett, came along, but didn't want to pay the lousy $5 to get in. He rode in the trunk of the car (I can't believe I participated in this - I'm shaking my head still when I think about it) and then walked home after the first movie. That left Harry and I with two movies to get cozy.

Did we?

What do you think?

The movies we saw that night were, as follows: Liar, Liar, Dante's Peak, and Daylight. As much as I don't really like Jim Carrey, Liar, Liar was the best of the films. Dante's Peak wasn't too bad and Daylight was terrible. Unfortunately, I know how the movies were. That's because we watched them. Sitting silently in the car, we watched the movies. We did not even hold hands during this.

You might ask, did Harry even want to do anything? I know the answer is yes due to the fact his father gave him away before we even left for the drive-in. When he found out where we were going for the evening, he turned to his friend and stated, "Oh, they're going to the passion pit [and about 5 more phrases I don't remember]."

Harry, embarrassed, tried to rush me out of the room quickly. His dad's friend asked, "Are these two an item?"

His dad replies, "Yes, but he hasn't made a move yet. These two lovebirds haven't even kissed."

Knowing this conversation, which means I know Harry has spoken to his father about us, I sat in a cold car watching Daylight at 2:30 in the morning, doing nothing. The movie ended and we went home.

A few weeks later, Harry and I had our night of indiscretion. Thankfully (looking back), we did not go so far as regrettable activities, but we did express our feelings for each other.

Let me make this clear right now. I did not love Harry in any way. I liked him a lot (remember, he was funny, smart, and nice to look at). We were stupid teenagers caught up in our hormones (and even though I know it was not legal, some alcohol may have been involved).

Come to think about it, alcohol and I are not a good combination. I get flirty (which normally my logical side prohibits this). One good thing I can say for myself is that even with alcohol, I always hit a point where I know alcohol is the factor driving me and I stop what is about to happen. I don't drink anymore unless it is the once in a blue moon Mudslide from T.G.I.Friday's. I don't really like the taste of alcohol. I prefer Coca-Cola, straight up.

After the night of drunken groping, Harry and I started to drift apart. The tension had passed. We both knew how the other felt and that it wouldn't work. We tried for a few more weeks after that. My graduation party was the final stroke of bad times.

As with most grad parties (at least from my experience), my parents let me have a few wine coolers. Remember how I react to alcohol? Let's just say I got a little flirty again, this time in front of the majority of my family and all of my friends. Harry and I started with a grass fight. My dad had just mowed the lawn and we picked up the chunks of grass and started throwing them at each other.

Why didn't we stop there? Why?

Next came the water fight. The hose and water buckets were used and soon we were soaked.

Then we moved inside. Magic markers were found and soon we were drawing all over each other. As embarrassing as this is, I'll just say, I didn't win. Hey, he had siblings and I'm an only child. I'm not good at horsing around.

My own mother made some comment about this being foreplay. It probably was, but luckily it didn't lead up to anything. He killed the mood later that evening.

After the party and after we got cleaned up, I went to his house so we could then go out. He made a comment that infuriated me. His views on diversity are not the same as mine. I left. Remember when I said he wasn't a decent human being? The comment he made that night was what proved it to me. I'm not going to share the comment here, but I will share his sister's response. She is a decent human being. Her response to him was, "Harry, how can you say that? Not only have our parents taught us differently, but we are also half Native American. We should have an understanding of diversity." He scoffed and that was it for our relationship.

I heard from him one more time. He called me one day to ask if I would buy some book for him that he wasn't quite old enough to purchase himself. I declined and we never spoke again.

I have seen him a few times since that evening, but I've always avoided conversation. Since he was just a guy I knew once, I don't feel too bad about dropping his 'friendship'. He was pretty to look at though.

Now, being the positive person I try to always be, I can be thankful for knowing Harry. There are things in my life that I wouldn't have today if it weren't for him.

Harry is the one who introduced me to a pool hall where I made a few great friends that I enjoy spending time with today. I made many memories in that pool hall and I wouldn't have gone there if it wasn't for him.

Harry, in that drunken night, made me feel special as a female. I have problems with my confidence in being seen as anything more than "the smart one" or "the responsible one" or "the one you can talk to". I know this sounds shallow, but the fact that he was interested in me for more than friendship made me feel a little bit special. It doesn't mean that I want anything to do with him today.

Harry also gave me advice to look for a job at a bank. At that point of my life, I didn't think I could work for a bank. I decided to give it a shot and was hired. I now have a job I love and my closest friends are all people I met through working at the bank. I have three friends in my life that I didn't meet through the bank. So, I'm thankful for knowing him and the advice he gave me over seven years ago. I'm not good at dating, but I guess I can handle a whole lot of friendship until I find that one who touches my heart and can accept all of my friends.

2 Comments:

At 11:32 AM, CarpeDM said...

Harry is the type of guy that if you said "God, what an ass" to him, he would think it was a compliment.

I'm glad he mentioned the bank to you. Without you, there would be no NABABNA. Well, okay, it would still be there, but it wouldn't be as special.

At 4:57 PM, Matt said...

Well one of the best things in the world that had come out of all of this is the fact that had he never have metnioned the bank to you, you would never have discovered the long lost family that you found there. And I would never have gotten to know my little sister without those words of advice, so thankfully, he did give you one good thing to always remember. Talk to you later Sis.
Me

For the sake of Dana

I really should be getting going, but I'm sick and it's an excuse. I'm trying very hard to get the motivation to leave the house for a few hours.

I'm losing the battle.

In the true spirit of procrastination, I decided to log on and check out my emails and a few blogs. I noticed that Dana wanted to know what it was I was crying about in the Home Depot commercial.

It's a simple commercial. It shows athletes at the Olympics competing. Then it shows their names and what department of Home Depot they worked at. Like Hardware or Flooring. Then it says that Home Depot is the company that has helped the most United States Olympians and Olympian hopefuls. It's just a commercial showing support. Very simple. Made me cry. Because I was emotional that day.

I went to work yesterday. For a half hour. I have a stupid cold (probably because the temperature in Minnesota keeps fluctuating greatly and it felt like October for most of last week). I came home, took a bunch of drugs (Advil Cold & Sinus and Nyquil at bedtime) and sat around watching movies. I watched 4 movies about the Wolf Man last night.

Told Dana no to karaoke tonight. I'm too sick to go. I'm sad about this, but I need to get better. My manager is out all next week and I need to be able to work.

Well, I'm off for a few hours. I may write more tonight. Later!

2 Comments:

At 9:03 PM, CarpeDM said...

I hope you feel better. Thank you for telling me why you were crying. I am obsessive.

Keem, Jeff and Mike are watching (although I actually typed wearing until I realized my mistake) House of Sand and Fog. I am blogging. I think I'm having more fun.

Just for fun - Give me back my house! Do you think she listens to Every time you go away, you take a little piece of me? I bet she does.

At 9:09 PM, angelia said...

I hope you feel better my friend.

I'm emotional

I am about the world's least athletic person. I don't watch sports, I could not explain how the points in football are accumulated. But for some random reason, I find myself watching the opening ceremony of the Olympics (on replay - that's the beauty of being a night owl) and I'm crying over stupid commercials. That's right. I'm crying over a stupid Home Depot commercial.

So far I have realized that the theme from Jurassic Park was playing over James Earl Jones's voice. I'm now waiting for a T-Rex to show up and storm the arena. This probably won't happen. I hope it doesn't.

A nine-year old boy just rode a boat across the water, waving a flag symbolic of something that Bob Costas explained. I didn't quite catch what it was. This boat the kid was riding on looked like a paper boat. You know, the kind you can make out of a piece of newspaper. Maybe I've read IT by Stephen King too many times, but now I'm thinking, "They all float down here!"

That's right folks, I went from crying over a commercial to horror movies/books. I may need mental help.

Now there's a lady standing around, holding a plastic head and looking at the 1/2 horse, 1/2 man thing (centaurs - I don't remember how to spell this and I know Dana will be upset by this). A cycladic (I don't know if this is the right word) head came out of the ground and there's images being bounced off it. Ahhhh! The head just broke apart into many pieces and now the pieces are floating to show "more realistic statues showing the dawn" of the human body. This was from Katie Couric. And now the bodies are supposed to represent the Greek Islands. I'm so confused. I should probably pay more attention to this.

"The Greeks call this young man, Cube Man." There's a guy suspended in the air on a cube, walking around. I just think the name, Cube Man, is oh, so descriptive.

Okay, enough of this. I just had to share a few random thoughts. Now I'll pay more attention and stop letting my mind find the oddities of the opening ceremony.

1 Comments:

At 6:01 AM, CarpeDM said...

Actually you got it right. It is centaur. I have no idea what the other stuff was though.

What was going on with the Home Depot commercial? You can't tease me like that. If there is crying over commercials, I need to be a part of it! Tell me! Tell meeeeee!

I've been found through the Web!

Dana showed me how to see how people find our sites. I know she talks about this every once in awhile and I wanted to see if anyone found my site in interesting ways.

I've had two searches that pulled up my sight for others. The first hit was for someone looking for clickable Sharpies. My pen fascination must be a shared interest!

The other person who found my sight did a search for billy-bumbler, which is one of the main characters in the Stephen King series, The Dark Tower. Oy is a cute little character that is part of the ka-tet searching for the Tower.

I feel special.

2 Comments:

At 2:25 AM, angelia said...

Sounds like fun, maybe Dana could show me!

At 5:59 AM, CarpeDM said...

You are special, Beth. I bought you a present today because you are special. And look, it's the perfect occasion!

I don't know why I even try to date

I don't know what it is, but this time of year always reminds me of a certain someone from my past. I have not seen or spoken to this individual in almost 5 years, but I still remember the smile on his face and the horrible way we never got it together.

One night, when I was in high school, this boy, I'll call him Charlie, and I were hanging out, trying to figure out what to do. It was a summer night (school might have been out by this time), warm with a slight breeze. With no where to go the next day, we had time on our side and a night full of possibilities. We knew that Hale-Bop, the comet, was passing by the Earth. The bright idea occurred to us, 'Let's drive up north where there's no city lights and check out the comet!' In my head I'm thinking, 'This will be great! A long drive, an intimate conversation, then sitting under the stars. This is going to go where I want it to.'

Looking at Charlie, I can tell he's thinking, 'Hey, this will be cool. We'll be alone and what an opportunity.' There's a gleam in his eyes (remember the show Moonlighting? Where they had the attraction but it took so long for them to get together? This was my 'relationship' with him. If either of us had ever gotten the nerve to say anything, I'm pretty sure we would have been dating for a long time. But then, we're both chickens).

I start driving. We're heading off to see the comet (and hoping for so much more than an astrological event). The conversation was sweet, we always conversations that lasted for hours. We listened to love songs on the radio, I think he even sang along.

We get fifty miles away from home, the city lights are nil so we turn off to a back country road. Up ahead is a field, no buildings or trees to be seen. I pull the car up to the edge of the field and turn off the engine. Anxious, we both jump out of the car and start walking into the field. Once we're a good distance from the car, we stop and look up.

What do we see as we gaze into the sky?

A comet?

Shooting stars?

Constellations?

No.

We saw clouds. That's right. The sky was not clear that night. There was cloud cover and we had no chance to view the comet. We drove for an hour to see nothing.

Our hopes PLUMMETED.

Neither of us ever looked up before we left (or on the drive) to see if we could see any stars. We were officially morons.

We're not ready to give up on spending time together, but we're both extremely logical people. You may be asking, why didn't these two teens sit under the clouds and talk? I'll answer that question. With no stars to look at, sitting in some random person's field seemed a little weird and creepy. Having a reason to sit there would have been better. We wouldn't feel like trespassers if there was a comet. We walk back to the car, our heads down in shame, shoulders slumped. We decided to go back towards home and do something else (I don't remember if we were going to go bowling or play pool or something like that).

Remember how we were fifty miles from home and on some back road in the country? Well, we got lost.

That's right. We got lost.

Up and down windy roads with absolutely no landmarks we drove.

We drove around for 45 minutes in the dark trying to find the highway to go home. Obviously, we eventually found it, otherwise I wouldn't be typing today.

Once we knew how to get home, the humour of the situation set in. (Yes, I spelt it that way on purpose.) I remember laughing the entire way home with Charlie. Even though we never saw the comet and never got our moment under the stars that evening, I remember just enjoying his company all night. This time of year reminds me of him and I smile.

1 Comments:

At 1:38 PM, CarpeDM said...

I would have probably said "Charlie, are you going to kiss me or what?" I've said it twice (to people not named Charlie, of course). It worked both times.

The only problem, of course, is that my longest relationship was for 6 months so I really shouldn't be giving anyone dating advice.

This was a sweet story, Brooksba.

Disturbing

On my way to work today, I had to stop at a light. The car next to me (to my left) was being driven by a man appearing to be in his 40's. The backseat has a couple of little kids horsing around and there is a boy, I mean boy, in the passenger seat. This kid looks like he's about 15 years old, I'm assuming he doesn't drive yet and that his dad had to take him home from school or something. The kid has his baseball cap on his head sideways and my first thought is, "Look, it's the rebel from suburbia. He looks tough."

Since I'm looking around, being the observant driver, I accidentally made eye contact with this kid. My mistake. This boy starts looking at me, smiling, and he starts to roll down his window. That's right, a 15-year old boy started checking me out.

As my instant uncomfortable feeling set in, a miracle happened and the light changed. I held back and let the other car pull forward first. Since I was no longer next to the car, I see the window start going back up. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

It just disturbed me that a kid at least 10 years younger than I was checking me out. I feel icky.

1 Comments:

At 11:21 AM, CarpeDM said...

How can we be friends? I would be thrilled to death if a guy 10 years younger than me would be checking me out...actually, I'd be thrilled if any guy started checking me out.

Oh, yeah, a guy 10 years younger than me would be 27. It really is kind of creepy that I think Frankie Muniz is hot, isn't it? Oh, well, at least he's legal now.

Nothing funny, just a serious note from me

Today was a pretty normal day for me. I don't work on Mondays (which is awesome!) and I slept extremely late as usual. I finally got out of bed around 3 in the afternoon (hey, I work nights! This is like a "day-timer" sleeping until 10 am). I sat around loading files from my old computer into the new one (like my entire CD collection - I love itunes). My mom called to let me know a package arrived at her house and that she was home from her weekend camping trip.

Motivation kicked in and I drove over to Mom's house. I got to see my dogs (I miss having them around all the time) and the cat that Mom rescued from the Twat (see Matt's blog about his 3rd most embarrassing moment and the title character for Matt's blog The Window Licking Cat). My mom and her boyfriend had spent the weekend camping in Wisconsin, got to see a couple of family members and visited the best meat market I've ever come across. My package was only one of the items I ordered, so I'll be visiting again soon. Mom also sent me home with about 10 pounds of fresh meat from this store (Leroy's Locker for anyone in Wisconsin). Yum!

Mom's boyfriend, Scott, showed me the array of fireworks he purchased. I'll just say, WOW! He is going to have fun finding a good place to shoot these off. I spent time chatting with Mom and holding my dogs. Well, Mom also picked up my dad some great food and on the way home I was dropping it off at his house.

When I got to my dad's, he told me some family news. My great aunt Marge passed away this weekend. I wasn't close to her, which is something I'll explain in a moment here. I think I only met her once at my great-grandmother's funeral in 1991. By mail, I did talk to her a few times and my grandfather kept in contact with her over the years. This is my paternal grandmother's sister.

I'm writing about this news because I am ashamed of the behaviors of a member of my family and I never want to become this way.

My grandmother, Gwen, is extremely stubborn. So was Marge, but not to the same extreme. My aunt, Becky, lived with Valerie (Marge's daughter) over 30 years ago. As roommates sometimes do, they had a small fight (no one remembers what it was about, it was that lame). Becky and Valerie didn't talk to each other for about 2 days. My grandmother got upset with Marge over this trivial thing and didn't talk to her for over 30 years.

At my great-grandmother's funeral, Marge walked up to my grandmother and said, "I don't want to keep this up anymore. I miss my sister. I'm sorry for anything that happened."

My grandmother turned her nose up and walked away.

Thirteen years later, Marge passed away. My grandmother's brother called and told the news to my grandmother and grandfather. It was my grandfather who passed the news onto my dad. I asked my dad tonight, "How did Grandma take it?"

His response, "Dad said she showed no emotion either way and that was it."

The thing is, if it had been my grandmother passing away first, Marge would have come to the funeral. She would have shown support to my grandfather and the kids. I didn't know her well, but what I did know was that she had a good heart and loved her family. My grandmother gave up knowing her only sister because of something stupid. It makes me really sad.

My grandmother has taught me in life to be stubborn. I know that I have a stubborn side. I've written people off before because of it. The only family member I use this on is my grandmother. And I still can't do exactly what she did. I don't have siblings, but I think that the bond should be stronger than that. I have learned a lesson from my grandmother and Marge. I hope that I never act as my grandmother did. I would be ashamed of myself.

That's all for now.

1 Comments:

At 9:46 AM, CarpeDM said...

I'm sorry about your Aunt Marge, Beth. I don't think you'll ever have to worry about being like your grandmother. You're a great person and extremely giving and caring.

Anyway, got to go back to work. I'll be thinking of you. Ciao!

A couple of great sites that I found tonight

Linking through different blogs is fantastic. Tonight I found a few new sites that are just great. I'm starting to read Mighty Ponygirl Digest. Lots of great information and the picture of President Bush is cracking me up. I'm just thinking what Bush could do with that object in his hand. Okay, I don't really like Bush. That might be slightly evident.

I also like the site by Manjusha. Check out Far From Perfect. I'm starting to read this one as well. Lots of fun. I'll never get anything done around my apartment with all this reading.

1 Comments:

At 11:43 AM, CarpeDM said...

Oh, my God! You have new links! And, you divided them! I am so proud.
I will have to check them out. I'm always in the mood for a good blog.

See you tonight!

Whoo-Hoo!

I've mentioned before that I was upset with how small the windows and font was on my new computer. I was having the worst time trying to figure this out (that's how illiterate with computers I really am) and I finally asked this guy at work who knows more about computers than I do. Guess what? It was really, really easy to fix. Now I just have to get my printer/scanner working again and the speakers to play louder than a mouse. I'm so excited. The games on MSN (which I'm addicted to) are now larger than a 2x2 inch square. It's like 3x3 now!

I've probably mentioned this before, but I LOVE Conan O'Brien. Not stalking love, but just the humor behind this show is great. I work nights and don't watch much TV, but the fact that Conan is on twice each evening is so great for me. I'm watching a rerun right now but it's one I missed the first time out. Conan is now showing a video of his car. He's acting as if his 1992 Ford Taurus is the coolest car ever. The fact that the car is a stick shift makes me respect Conan even more! He just showed some guy that there are hornets nests in the trunk. And the great part is the fact the song they keep using is Simply Irresistible by Robert Palmer. He also just asked the Ferrari dealer how much crack he smoked this morning. Okay, I can't even concentrate on writing anymore. I would recommend this show to anyone. It's intelligent humor (most of the time) and always new. Well, that's my plug for Conan O'Brien for now.

Not much else to write about tonight. My brain is fried from work and I'm going to sign off.

1 Comments:

At 10:51 AM, Sreekesh Menon said...

Intelligent Humour, there is no such thing on tv.

Are you my type?

I had a good day today. Ignoring all the crap I had to endure, I still had a good day. When I got to work, I realized that I had signed up to donate blood. This put me in a good mood. No, I don't enjoy needles in my arm, but they don't really bother me either. I find giving blood an uplifting experience. It's important to me to help where I can and giving blood is an easy thing to do. Heck, they give you cookies and a free soda when you're done!

There are some amusing things that happen though when you give blood. Here is my experience and what I wanted to say is in italics.

Nurse: Alright, I'm going to put the needle in your arm right now. Please look away.
Beth (That's me!): Why do I need to look away? I find it easier to deal with horror when I look at it in the face. Why do you think that Hitchcock movies are more frightening than Friday the 13th movies? It's because your imagination makes up a better monster. Okay.
N: That's done.
B: I'm glad. Thankfully you don't seem to have punctured extra veins and I'm not spilling my guts on the floor. Okay.
N: I'll be back in a couple of minutes.
Delay
N: Let's check how you're doing. Oh, good job!
B: Thanks. Wow! I can bleed. Hallelujah! I was so afraid that when a needle went straight into my veins that water would come out instead of blood. I feel so blessed!
N: Oh, I connected the tape to the chair. I guess you can't get up.
B: Um, I have a needle in my arm connected to a bag that's connected to the chair. I don't think it's the tape keeping me here. Do people really think they can get up when they're giving blood?
N: You'd be surprised. This kid jumped up once at a high school when his friend passed out. He ran out.
B: With the bag of blood attached?
N: Yes.
B: So, if you're taking the blood you just donated, is that stealing? That seems odd.
N: Yes. Look, you're almost done. Good job!
B: Okay, I know this has got to be a rough job. There's people who freak out at the sight of blood (like the woman they just took to the hospital apparently) but is 'Good job!' really appropriate? I mean, couldn't you say something like, 'You're almost done. That was easy.' Easy I could understand. Explain to people that this is not a horrific experience. Thanks.
N: What color bandages do you want?
B: I don't care.
N: How about purple?
B: Okay. I really have no opinion what-so-ever.
N: You're done. When you're ready, get up and get some food.
B (arising immediately): Okay. Thanks!

I have given blood many times before. I took a break after I got my tattoo (because you can't donate for at least a year). I have never, ever had a problem. That's just me though.

I don't know if you've given blood recently, but they ask some interesting questions. The one I have always been curious about is the one that can be changed for gender. I always get, "Have you had sex with a man who could have sex with another man since 1977?" I always tell truth (which is no) but I think next time I should ask, "I know you ask this question because you're worried about AIDS, but you ask a question specifically about AIDS. Does saying yes to this question disqualify you from giving blood?" I don't think this is correct. Maybe you just need to explain, but here's the thing. What would be wrong with blood from a gay man? They accept lesbian blood. There's no questions like, "Have you had sex with another woman since 1977?" It seems like the question is directed incorrectly. And what is up with 1977? Maybe my understanding of AIDS is incorrect, and don't hate me for being blunt, but how long has the longest person with AIDS or HIV survived? Is it 27 years? I just need to ask more questions the next time I go.

Giving blood makes you aware of all the things that could have gone wrong with your life in the past. In the past 6 years, they've added questions about spending more than 3 months in parts of Europe (Mad Cow's Disease), visiting Africa (I'm sure this is an AIDS question too), West Nile Virus, and SARS. It used to be, "Do you feel good today? Have you taken aspirin in the last 24 hours?" I'm glad they have the protections in place. It just seems like a lot being thrown at you when you sit down.

At the end of the experience, you get to get stickers. I'm still wearing the "Be nice to me. I gave blood today." My favorite sticker I saw today was the one that matches the title of this post. "Are you my type?" It's surrounded with the different blood types (O+, AB-, A+, B-, etc.). It's really cute.

That was my adventure today. I learned that I have a skill because I can bleed!

3 Comments:

At 11:22 AM, CarpeDM said...

Dude. Congratulations on your new job as bleeder. I'm very impressed.

I commend you and all of your fellow bleeders. I am not a bleeder because of really, really small veins that roll whenever someone tries to put a needle in them. That and I'd be the person who passed out.

Ciao. See you later. You bleeder, you.So, are you hooked on blood?

At 12:18 AM, angelia said...

Hey, everybody has to have a skill!

At 2:38 PM, The Lioness said...

Africa is about AIDS, they're dying by the millions down there. I CANNOT give blood due to small psoriasis matter, EVER! Shit. It annoys the hell out of me bcs I would if i could and there's never enough in the blood banks (too many neutrophils, white blood cells connected with inflamation, not a good thing to pass on to someone IN NEED of a transfusion). I don't know how it is in the US but here not many people give blood. I might be allowed to register for bone marrow donation bcs they filter out the cells they need - so byebye neutrophils. But it's a longshot and i'm still pissed off. Bah.

Worst Pick Up Lines

I was walking into work the other day when a girl shared a story with me. It made me think of horrible things to say to someone to pick them up. The following is some of the worst things to say to a stranger whom you find attractive:

You look like someone who would know where the

• correctional facility is
• halfway house is
• XXX porn shop is
• strip club is
• trailer park is
• head shop is
• drug rehabilitation center is
• unemployment office is
• pawn shop is
• check cashing establishment is

Another weird conversation that I was told was from a guy I work with. We're trying to figure out if this woman was hitting on him or if she was just going a little bit crazy. Here's the conversation.

Woman: Have you seen my face on TV?

Man: Uh, no.

Woman: Are you sure?

Man: Yes.

Woman: My boss took pictures of me and now he's showing them on an adult film on public access.

Then she walked away. Here's my question. When did public access start showing adult films? I thought they only showed school lunch schedules and Trekkie conventions. Sure, there's the occasional high school choir/band concert, but porn? That doesn't happen.

Okay, those were just some of the random thoughts and conversations I had this weekend. Off to another fun filled week. And dealing with this computer!

It's official. I hate my computer.

I haven't been writing as much as I used to. It's not because I don't have the time, I think I lost the patience with my computer. After about 10 tries, I actually got the Internet to pull up tonight. This is driving me insane! Oh wait, I'm already there.

I mentioned in a blog not too long ago that I moved recently. I think I'm getting way too used to having my own place. I still enjoy the company of my former roommate, but there's something about your own place that is just terrific! It's the first time in my life that I've lived by myself (besides the dorm). I can have room for my scrapbooking stuff, I can cook any hour of the night, and I can watch whatever movie I feel like watching at any time. Not that my roommate had a problem with any of this stuff, but you know how it is. You want to respect their space too and leaving junk around isn't courteous, banging pots and pans around at 2 AM while they're sleeping is not nice, and it's hard to watch the same movie over and over without feeling goofy.

You know what I love the most about my new place? It has nothing to do with being out on my own. It has nothing to do with the fact my drive to work is about 6 minutes long and a tank of gas lasts three weeks. It's not the fact the water pressure in the shower is better than I've ever experienced in my life. It has to do with my alarm clock.

My alarm clock (thank you Mom for the great Christmas gift) is one of those with a CD and I can pick which track to wake up to. Lately I've been awaken every morning by Rob Thomas singing to me. Ah, Rob... Sorry, I digress. The thing is, I'm not a pleasant person when I wake up and I don't function completely for at least 15 minutes. Usually about an hour. (Which is weird when I get to work and have only been awake for about 40 minutes. Caffeine is such a good thing.) Since I don't get up right away, I hit the snooze button quite regularly. At my old apartment, I had set up my room so the alarm clock was on the other side of the room. I used to get out of bed, walk 5 paces, push the snooze button, and then crash back into bed every morning. I would do this for over an hour. Now, the alarm clock is within arm's reach and it gives me an extra 30 seconds of sleep for each cycle! Yea!

What happens when you push the snooze on one of these types of alarm clocks, the CD stops playing but it keeps spinning. This means electricity is still going full force through the piece of machinery, which is not a big deal, but with this alarm clock, it picks up radio waves in the area and plays the sounds. Even if a certain station is not set, the radio will still play the sounds if the signal is strong enough. My former place was close enough to an AM station and so each day when I pushed the snooze button, Rush Limbaugh would talk to me. I became convinced that he was trying to kill me with his Republican propaganda. It is such a relief that I no longer hear voices talking softly to me while I'm half asleep. I'm pretty sure this is how brainwashing takes place.



One of My Obsessions

I'll admit it. I have a problem. I've been much better lately, but I still feel the pull. I'm addicted to office supplies. I just opened a drawer next to the computer from heck and realized the entire drawer was full of pens. Have you seen those commercials for the click Sharpie pens? I was speechless and I wanted to run right out to any office supply store to buy them. I have absolutely no need for them, but I WANT THEM. It's a disease.

In this drawer, I have every style of gel pen I've ever seen. The sick part about this drawer is the fact that I can't fit all of the pens I have in it. And you know what? I don't really like writing with pens. I like pencils. This is ultimately sick. What is even sicker is my desire to organize this drawer and test out each of the pens. I probably will freak out and do this soon. I'll keep records of it and you'll understand my obsession.

Dana said to me once that I can't do anything without going for the gusto. Take scrapbooking. I started for one Christmas present project and now my entire dining room is a scrapping room. I started rubber stamping (Thanks Kim!) and I bought about a gazillion stamps. I try to find ones that coordinate with scrapbooking.

I became obsessed with Clint Eastwood movies recently. Now I have two copies of "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly", as well as 14 other Clint Eastwood movies. I collect miniature liquor bottles. I have about 300 of them. I have no space for them, yet I still collect them. And then there's the penguins. I collect penguins. I have a penguin tattoo and my apartment looks like a rookery half the time. I need to get better at controlling the obsessive part of my personality. It's going to hurt me one of these days.

Okay, I'm signing off now. To stare at the pile of pens. More to come!

1 Comments:

At 10:04 PM, CarpeDM said...

Let's face it...how else do you think Republicans get people to vote for Bush? I seriously think this is how it happens.

There was a Bloom County cartoon that I loved in which cockroaches (that looked vaguely like Jiminy Cricket so not at all gross) would talk to you at night while you were sleeping - it was the explanation for a lot of things, such as babies crying at 3 AM (cockroaches telling them Big Bird was dead) and why men did the whole comb over thing (cockroaches would tell them that women would find them sexy).

I mean, really, when you think about it, doesn't it make perfect sense? Cockroaches and Rush Limbaugh are responsible for what's wrong with our country today with their subtle brainwashing.

On an unrelated note, do you ever want to throw Rush Limbaugh and Howard Stern into a room and have them duke it out for most annoying radio personality in the world? And then, when the winner has finished bludgeoning the other with a chair, fill the room with poisonous gas? Or is that just me?

Don't worry about staring at the pens, Beth. Worry about when they start talking to you.

It's no wonder I don't date

I went on a blind date once. I understand why this is the worst thing anyone can hear. You know what I mean. The phrase, "I know someone who would be good for you." That's not fun. I hate it when people play matchmaker. I don't want to be paired up with someone a friend thinks "would be good" for me. What does that mean?

I was in high school when my best friend, Liese (pronounced Lisa), decided it was time to set me up with one of her boyfriend's friends. This was a guy she had never even met and that may have been the first mistake. The other might have been the fact I was almost seeing someone else. I do not know what convinced me to say yes to the evening, but I did.

It was January, 1996 in Minnesota. It was freezing cold outside and oh, so romantic. The evening before had sported one of the worst storms I've seen in a winter. It didn't snow. Oh, no. It rained. And rained. What happens to rain when it's cold? The rain turned to ice instantly when it hit the ground (and every other object). I was working part time at a local retail shop at the time. The ice came down so quickly that when I was sent home after a 1/2 hour of working, I needed a full can of De-Icer just to get into the car. The ground was covered quickly with a layer of ice and the trees all glistened the next day. The views were quite beautiful, just dangerous and hard to maneuver in.

So, understanding what a fun driving experience it would be, I said yes when Liese decided to set me up with this guy.

Liese was dating Kevin and his good friend's name I'm changing to protect the guilty. Let's call him Bobby Ray. It just seems fitting.

The idea was to go on a double date. Liese and Kevin were coming along. To add to the excitement, our other friend, Renee, was going to come with her boyfriend, Scott. Scott was a friend of mine and his best friend, Adam, was a great friend of mine. Adam also tagged along. That's right, 7 people on a double date. 7 people and I was the only one with a license. Keep in mind, I also drove an '87 Chevy Nova. This car would seat 2 people comfortably. If you had two smaller (for example, children under 5) individuals, the backseat could fit a couple more. All 7 of us were in one car. It was time to get friendly.

I picked up Liese (two blocks from my place) and then went to get Scott and Adam (2 blocks from Liese's). Hindsight being 20/20, I should have stopped there. But no, I'm the perpetually nice one and I follow through with my word to Liese to try and enjoy the evening. It made the most sense to pick up Renee next, which meant heading north on the ice for a drive that normally took 15 minutes. After a half hour, we had Renee. Scott and Adam were the skinny little guys and they shared the front seat. (You know, the more I think about that time of my life, those two would have probably ended up as lovers if they were about 5 years older.) We then headed south past my home to Saint Anthony, Minnesota, which should have been a 25 minute drive. It took an hour. Having fun yet? I wasn't.

We picked up Kevin and then Bobby Ray. I did try to keep an open mind about this date, but I'll be honest. My heart did not flutter when we picked him up. I thought, 'Okay, I'll see what his personality is like.' Why, oh why, did I bother?

What do high school students do for a fun-filled, wholesome evening? They decide to go to a local restaurant and order appetizers and split the bill. This is known as the cheap date. We decided to go to a local restaurant for some food (aka appetizers) and on the way there, my car got a little stuck on the ice. Remember the ice? I do. Clearly. I'm in a car with 4 boys and my car gets stuck. What do they all do? Sit there, on their butts. Bobby Ray decides to open his mouth with some wonderfully witty comment, like, "Ha ha. Oh man, we're stuck. Hee hee." My response, as nicely and sugary as I could say through gritted teeth, "Then get out and push." At that moment, I rocked the car free of the ice and we were back on our way.

Remember the stupid games you play as a kid? Like Truth or Dare. Now, I understand this is a 'risky' game to play but it never worked out like that with our group. We actually had a rule with our version of the game to keep it fair. You could not ask someone something that you weren't willing to answer yourself. The dares picked were always lame (yes, I use the word lame) because we did it more to get to know each other better. The answers always stayed 'in the car' and I think one of the best dares ever involved Scott howling at the moon. As I said, lame.

So we decided to play Truth or Dare. As we are playing, Liese and Kevin are holding their usual session of necking in the backseat. What does this wonderful 'date' of mine do? He wants to watch so he pulls out a miner's flashlight (you know, the ones that strap to your forehead) and turns it on so he can watch them.

What type of person carries a miner's flashlight in their jacket pocket? I need an answer to this question. This is not like having a pen in your pocket. I know the Boy Scouts' motto is to 'Be Prepared' but this is ridiculous.

As Bobby Ray is watching them make out, someone dares him to kiss me. It might have been Renee or Scott. Is it a wonder why our friendships have faded over the years? He looks at me, trying to strut his stuff as much as you can from the passenger seat of a Chevy Nova, and says, "I'm game."

Oh baby, oh baby, oh.

I politely make up a lie, "I don't kiss on the first date." Totally not true. I've never had an objection to a small kiss on the first date. Not like I've ever really had a relationship that started with a first date. Most of the relationships I've had, I've known the guy for at least a year before we even go out. This might also be a slight problem in my dating life. But back to the date.

I got out of kissing Bobby Ray. Thank you God. I mean that.

At this point, we pull up to the local restaurant. Since there are 7 of us, we get two tables pushed together in the middle of the place. Here is the seating arrangement:

Kevin Liese Bobby Ray

Renee Scott Myself Adam

This was so I could be forced to stare at Bobby Ray throughout our meal. I say forced because I did not want to stare at Bobby Ray. By the time we reached the restaurant and had sat down, I knew I was not interested in Bobby Ray and so pleased that Adam had tagged along.

We ordered our appetizer samplers (also, this is easy for girls to not eat as much, since they can just nibble from the tray). Bobby Ray showed his class and style by telling witty stories throughout the meal. Such gems are hard to forget. I heard every single penis joke I had heard from second grade through fifth grade. Wow. My heart was a flutter. Oh, how could I pass up this lovely, sophisticated man?

Bobby Ray also decided that dinner was the perfect time to start making fun of Adam. That's right. He started ripping on one of my best friends and the boy I was ecstatic was there to save me from this torture. A word of advice to any man wanting my heart: Making fun of those I love the first night you met them or me is not a good idea. I'm pretty loyal to my friends. So we sat during dinner, Liese, Kevin, Scott, and Renee all at their end of the table missing the comic gems from Bobby Ray, Adam and I lowering our opinions of this boy every time he opened his mouth.

Finally, finally, it was time to pay the bill. The seven of us arose from the table and headed to the register. As we were paying, Bobby Ray found it socially acceptable to have his hands creep up from behind and start fondling Renee's chest. That's right. He started groping her. I'll admit, Renee had a good rack for a teenager, but come on. She actually shrieked. Scott was pretty pissed off by this point and we quickly ushered everyone into the car.

Don't ask why we didn't drop this loser off right then and there. The only thing I can think of is that Liese and Kevin wanted to give the night another chance. The seven of us headed up to Renee's house, since she had the earliest curfew. When we got there, it was decided to watch a movie.

What movie is perfect for a romantic evening? What could possibly make the night better and better? I'll tell you.

Stephen King's TV mini series, "IT." That's right. We watched a cheesy horror movie that did the book absolutely no justice what-so-ever.

Liese and Kevin found a spot on the floor to cuddle. Renee sat down next to her mom on the couch. Scott and Adam also headed for the couch while Bobby Ray found the only available chair. I stood there, wondering where to go. I knew for a fact I wanted to be away from Bobby Ray. Can you blame me? Do you think I was not giving him the proper chance? Is it wrong of me to pass judgment based on the miner's light, the penis jokes, the insulting of my great friend, and the groping of my other friend? Maybe it was.

Back to the fact I'm looking for a place to sit and watch the movie. Bobby Ray slides over and says, like one of those oily, sleazy men in a bar as they stare at your tits, "You could sit on my lap." His eyes drop a little and a sly little grin shows up on his face. Just thinking about it to this day makes me want to vomit.

Adam pipes up at this moment, and believe me, my adoration for him increased tenfold. "Hey, Scott, Renee, slide over. Beth, you could join us here." Thank you Jesus! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The trumpets sounded and my heart wanted to leap from my chest. It doesn't seem like much, but I was so grateful for this simple act.

We watched half of the movie before we realized Scott and Adam should be getting home soon. It was time to head south again. Here's the adventure for the evening.

Remember the ice? How could you forget. I'm driving south on the highway, going about 50 miles an hour (the limit was 55, but I slowed down for the ice). A red light is coming up so I gently pressed the brake pedal. I didn't swerve. I didn't lock up my brakes. No, what happened is that my car stalled, still going 45 miles an hour. The light ahead is still red, I have 5 additional people (without me) in the car, no brakes, and cars are crossing the highway for their green light.

In one liquid motion, I put my left foot on the clutch, my right foot started pumping the brakes, I swiveled the steering wheel, and pulled the emergency brake. The Nova spun 270 degrees and came to a stop. We stopped in plenty of time for the light and no other cars were near us on the road. We were safe.

Liese and Kevin sat in an oblivious state in the back seat. I think they'd been smooching again. Probably. The looks on Scott and Adam's faces were remarkable. There was a slight bit of stun and a look of awe. I think they enjoyed it. Bobby Ray picked this moment to turn in his seat, look me in the eyes, and arrogantly say, "Way to go . . . Babe."

Now, my knuckles did not turn white from the adventure with the car. They now gripped the steering wheel because every bit of my being was holding them there so I wouldn't deck this guy. I hate, I hate, I HATE, pet names. If I know someone for a long time, I could handle maybe a couple of minor pet names, but there are an immediate pet peeve. There is only one that I can put up with because it is what my mom calls me. Babe is not it.

As daggers formed in my eyes, I glared at him. You know the look. Vivian Leigh had it best in Gone with the Wind. It's the look that says, "I want you to be wiped from existence."

I turned to Scott and Adam, my look softening greatly as I turned, and said, "Is it okay for us to drop Kevin and this guy off first?"

They both agreed and thankfully the rest of the night went off without a hitch. Scott got into a little trouble for curfew (I'm so sorry, to this day I'm sorry) and Adam got into a little trouble (for something completely unrelated to curfew. He'd been experimenting with hairspray and a lighter on the kitchen counter before I picked him up). Everything else was pretty much okay. I figured this guy was out of my life forever.

To explain how much I disliked this individual, here is a phone conversation the next day.

Ring, ring:

Me: Hello.

Guy: Beth? Hey, how's it going?

Me: Fine. Oh God, why, why, why? (Okay, the italics are what I was thinking. The tone came out the same.)

Guy: What are you doing?

Me: Cleaning my room.

Guy: Are you really busy?

Me: Yes.

Guy: Oh. What are you doing tomorrow?

Me: I'm in a bowling tournament. (Did I ever mention that I was a huge bowler in high school. I used to bowl 6 days a week.)

Guy: Really?! What one? (Smile in his voice.)

Me: It's a parent/child tournament.

Guy: Maybe I could join too!

Me: No, you can't.

Guy: Why not? (Confusion sets in.)

Me: I'm pretty sure you have to be on a league.

Guy: Yeah. I am.

Me: Oh yeah? What league are you on?

Guy: I'm on your team.

Long pause.

Me: John?

Guy: Yes.

Me: Oh, I'm so sorry! I thought you were Bobby Ray! Thank goodness. How's it going? (Hear the smile in my voice now.)

John: Man, I was really trying to figure out what I did.

The conversation kept on, but you get the point. I was rude, curt, and trying to get one of my great friends off the phone because of this guy. I ended up seeing the guy a few years later at something and ran the other way. The one blind date I ever went on turned out horribly and this is why I cringe every time someone says, "I know someone who would be great for you."

3 Comments:

At 10:36 AM, CarpeDM said...

I know someone who would be good for you. The scariest words in the world.

Brooksba, I loved this. Even though you had just told me this story the other day, I loved re-reading it and getting the whole effect of the car description, Bobby Ray in all of his oafishness, it was so much fun.

Kudos to you. Babe (Don't kill me. I'm just kidding).

At 4:57 PM, Matt said...

Little Sister-(that is an ok name isn't it? I would hate to have a blog written about me on that-just kidding) I loved this blog. You are incredible, and yes those words are even scary for men to hear as well. Of course, I think that's true, because well I would have to be aman to know that wouldn't I? I will talk to you later, take care Little Sister. Remember, the right guy had better pass the Big Brother test, because if he doesn't I would hate to see what Scott would do to him.
Matt

At 5:13 PM, Chiraag said...

Hi, I was just reading your blog and I think it has good potential. Would it be possible to blog roll me or add a link to my site please? My url is http://chiraag88.blogspot.com

It's time to talk about it

We are all human beings. We all deserve the same basic, civil rights.

Dana has been posting lately and finding some great blogs about same-sex marriage. I'm not here to talk about same-sex marriage specifically. I think it's important to express your beliefs while treating others fairly.

A few years ago (seems like forever and a day), a young man visited my home from Ukraine. I was just finishing my first year of college when he came to our home. The experience of meeting him opened my eyes to a world of diversity and love.

People are different, yet we are all very much the same. We all want to survive, we all feel hurt when others inhibit our rights, and we all have connections with others. Andriy, the young man from Ukraine, opened my eyes more than I could have imagined.

My parents brought me up to respect others. No matter what social, religious, ethnic, or political views others may have. I look at some parents today trying to teach their children diversity. I've seen people tell their children, "You can't say that. It's wrong to say that." What I respect and admire about my parents is that whenever they would see behaviors in public of people using blind hatred to hurt others, they didn't just say, "You can't say that." My parents explained to me that the behavior was wrong for more reasons than the behaviors being 'socially unacceptable.' They explained that it is not only wrong to say it, but wrong to think it. It was shown to me early in life that judging someone by their skin, religion, or sexual preference was wrong. They never said that one can't hold a grudge against another person, just that the grudge needs to be justified. If someone hurts you, you have a right to be upset with that person. How you choose to react is one thing, remember to keep a perspective.

I enjoyed Andriy's company while he stayed here. I cried when he returned home to Ukraine. What I learned from the experience of knowing him was that people are not that much different. Here was a man who was my age but grew up in a completely different environment. He watched the Cold War end, democracy come to his land, and watch his country form when he was 13 years old. When Communism fell, it wasn't happy days for the people of the Post-Soviet States. People had to learn how Democracy works. This might push a couple of buttons, but Communism is not all that bad. When there are corrupt leaders use the system to oppress people, it turns out poorly. But in Communism, everyone is considered equal. Every family has a home. Every person has a job. Every child receives an education. Every family gets the food they need to survive. It takes away the differences in economic structure. Now, this goes against the American Dream, and I'm not saying I'd like America to be a Communist nation. I'm just saying that when Communism fell, there were a lot of people forced into change that they were unprepared for. It was a tough time and I admire those who went through the turmoil. Andriy is one of my heroes.

Spending time with Andriy showed me that I could make a friend with anyone in the world. No more do I look at another country as the political structure that governs it. I see other countries as made up of people not so different from myself. People who have hopes and dreams. People who care about their friends and family. People with different cultures and customs that have come from the interactions of people. Where does culture and customs come from? They weren't here before people were. It's how people treat each other that becomes our culture. I have a strong set of values that form my beliefs. I believe that all people deserve fair treatment. I believe that all human beings deserve the same civil rights.

The current topic of civil rights is same-sex marriage. Here's my questions and thoughts about the matter.

Why does society/government feel the need to keep finding another group of people to discriminate against? Think about it. My mom told me that in the 70's, there was a speaker (whose name I do not know) she admired. One speech she remembers (30 years later), was called, 'We always need Indians.' (Granted, I never heard the speech, I don't know the speaker, and I'm relying on the recollection of a secondary source. I might be a little off on the title. But the meaning is still the same.) This speech was directed towards women's rights. The thing is, it will always be relevant. When this country formed, the colonists tried to oppress the Native Americans. This group of people were considered savage and dangerous. Once the Native Americans were not the 'big problem', blacks were treated poorly and forced into slavery. Our country has taken steps to changing it's ways. We now have protected groups that only need protecting because people were stupid to begin with. And you know what, we need to have protected groups. Because people as a whole are stupid and don't think before they act.

I digress. Back to the speech. This speech pointed out that white men ruling the country have always needed to find a way to feel superior and people are hurt by their actions. Native Americans, African Americans, women, and the disabled have all fought their battles for the same opportunities that should be inherent. Why should a human have to fight for the right to speak up for themselves? Fight for the right of equal treatment? Fight for the right to love and express your love?

Someone told me that they were against gay marriage because it goes against the definition of marriage. I looked it up. In Webster's New World dictionary, the definition states: "1. the state of being married. 2. a wedding. 3. a close union." Wedding is defined as: "1. the marriage ceremony. 2. a wedding anniversary." I think he was talking about his religious beliefs. Now, I'll admit, I don't go to church. I am not the expert on theology. I'm not an expert on politics, or anything really. What I can say is that this country was founded on the belief of freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and freedom from oppression. Since we can pick our religion, why should it be a factor in deciding laws? Just because one person's religion speaks differently about a subject, does that make that subject wrong? That's faulty logic if you believe that. Should a religious belief be the deciding factor in deciding the rights of all Americans? I don't think so.

Think back into history. Who are the men that come to mind when you think of poor human beings? Do you think of Hilter or Stalin? Why do we hate Hilter? Because he murdered people based on their religious beliefs. He had people murdered because they did not fit in with his ideal society. Those who were not murdered were tortured, punished, and oppressed for their beliefs, ethnic origins, sexual preferences, or disabilities. And if you ask around, people have a low opinion of Hilter. I want to ask the political men trying to oppress civil rights to same-sex couples if they would like to go down in the history books for holding the same views as Hilter.

I think same-sex marriage is something that will happen. People are going to fight on both sides of this issue, but think ahead 50 years. What will the children of tomorrow think when they read how long it took for society to recognize homosexuals as equals? It's the fight of today. It's a fight that needs to happen. Looking at similar fights from history, is there any doubt that this fight will be won with same-sex marriage being accepted? Making laws against same-sex marriage won't silence the population. There is a want and a need for equal treatment, equal rights, and that will not go away. It shouldn't go away. The fight will go on until the just action is taken. Who are the parties making this harder than it needs to be? It's not the gays and allies of gays. It's the politicians and narrow-minded individuals who think they are better than another human being because of their own preferences. It's a battle of blind hatred being fought all over the country. And the world.

I tried to discuss this generally and logically. Now I do want to mention something. I know two different same-sex couples. These couples are very different from each other and I love all the parties involved. They are my extended family. I want the best for them and I see no reason for them not to be treated the same as myself or the other people in this country. My friends are the most important thing to me. I will stand up against oppression not just because of them, but my resolve will be strengthened by the fact I know them and love them. They made my inherent beliefs a personal experience. And they have shown me that standing by is not the right thing to do.

On a side note, to the random guy I overheard calling my best friend a derogative term while sitting with a group of his friends (a couple of these were women). My words to him: "Wow. You should think before you open your mouth. I understand that people have different views and you apparently have narrow-minded views. What I want you to understand is that you're discriminating against someone based on the way they walk and look. If I were to do that, I would say that you are an egotistical man who doesn't value the respect of others. You have now shown the group of people you are with how stupid you are. What are these women now thinking? I know I would be thinking, 'He just showed his blind hatred to a random stranger behind that person's back. What does he think of me? Why am I spending any time with this jerk?' Think before you speak. For your own sake."

Okay, I know this was a long post. And the train of thought wanders back and forth. The main think I'm trying to say is to get the guts to share what you believe. You might find that others share some of the similar views. And talking about it will promote the discussions that need to happen. Diversity is good. It's what has promoted change throughout history.

1 Comments:

At 1:30 PM, CarpeDM said...
Yes, it was long. But it was beautifully written and I really enjoyed reading it. I love your parents.

I'm so glad you're my friend, Brooksba. Let's go kick some narrow-minded ass.