A Grim Fairy Tale

I am in a funk, hence the lack of Wordy Wednesday in my blog this week. I am pretty sure this funk was brought on by the untimely demise of my best friend's relationship with her old high school flame.

See, she and I divorced our husbands at the same time. (We're best friends, we do everything together) She went on to reconnect with the love of her life and had lots of wild freaky sex all over town, while I tried to force myself to get back out there into the dating scene.

I would like to take a moment to talk about this forcing myself out there into the dating scene thing. I realized quite recently that this is what I was doing. I felt that I needed to have somebody, not somebody serious, not a one-night fling, just a suitable young man to call my boyfriend for a while. I felt this way, not because I was lonely or insecure, but because I wanted to even the score of some stupid game that didn't even exist outside of my own head. I was so hurt by how quickly I was replaced (I mean like instantly replaced) by some cheap bimbo my ex-husband remarkably found attractive, that I thought: Well, if he's moving on so quick and easy, then so will I!!! Stupid, I know. Why do we place such meaningless expectations upon ourselves??

Now just that very idea is ridiculous, but let's take a closer look at another one of my ill-conceived ideals about dating, shall we? Let's give some exploration to this statement: "I felt that I needed to have somebody, not somebody serious, not a one-night fling, just a suitable young man to call my boyfriend for a while." That right there is also completely screwed up. This too, I have quite recently realized.

There is no gray area out there!!! You are either just banging or you are in a meaningful relationship. Am I wrong?? I do not think so. This brings me back to my dear friend and her sad, sad situation with... oh let's just call him Jerkface. We will call her Miss Guided.

So Jerkface and Miss Guided embarked on that sacred journey of love - or so Miss Guided had hoped that's what was transpiring, but all Jerkface wanted was somebody to bang with no emotions involved. See? It's either serious or not, right?

Then one fateful night Miss Guided brought Jerkface and myself and some friends out to see a burlesque show. We knew one of the burlesque gals and she invited us to a little after-party when the show was finished. We all went and had a merry ole time - especially Jerkface who acted like a child at a candy store and went into booby overload and flirted with anything that shook her ass in his direction.

Days later, Jerkface dropped my best friend on her ass and announced that he wanted to start banging one of the burlesque dancers.

Now my best friend, who by the way has always been the stronger person in our friendship, is a broken china doll and I, who normally is the one falling to pieces, is taking on the role of the stronger one and helping her collect the shattered pieces of her broken heart.

Last night she came over and we shared a bottle of wine. At one point she turned and looked at me with the sorrow of a thousand sinking ships drowning in her eyes. It was enough to make a grown woman cry. I am still depressed just thinking about it.

I can't help but wonder why it is exactly that HER breakup is affecting ME so deeply. Maybe it's seeing the one person I've always seen as stronger than myself destroyed? Maybe I was secretly hoping along with her, that true love always finds a way and I'm shattered to find out that's just not always true. And maybe, just maybe I thought at least one of us was going to make it out of this gloomy place and into that shimmering sunset where Happily Ever After awaits.

Wordy Wednesday: Introdouche

Urban Dictionary, this week you’ve outdone yourself! Almost all the terms I found on this sight this week earned my thumbs up rating!

Somebody’s Girl Syndrome - when a really hot chick has trouble getting dates because guys all assume she already has a boyfriend and are scared to approach her....
Inspired by the Jackson Browne song "Somebody's Baby"

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Up
My Rating: Thumbs Up

I like this term because it actually happened to me a couple weeks ago. I tried talking to some guy at the bar and he totally gave me the cold shoulder. I was confused until my BFF went up to talk to him and she came back to report that he thought I had a boyfriend. What the heck? Just because I’m cute, guys automatically think I’m taken?

Insurance Piss - The act of going to the toilet when you don't really need to, to make sure you don't need to go later. This act is usually conducted prior to long car journeys or departure from drinking establishments.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Up
My Rating: Thumbs Up

This also gets my thumbs up rating for practicality. I often do this before long road trips or before going to an establishment where I prefer not to use the ladies room.

Defecately- A more dignified way to say "Shit Yeah!" so you don't sound uneducated in the presence of others.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Up
My Rating: Thumbs Down

Seriously?? Dignified? I think not! This is disgusting!!

Fashionmista - The male version of the fashionista. A man who loves fashion.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Down
My Rating: Thumbs Up

Those of you that are familiar with my Wordy Wednesdays know that I love me a good word or term that plays upon and already existing term. This term is sweet.

Introdouche - The way in which a douchebag would go about introducing his/herself. Bragging about their meaningless accomplishments in an attempt to impress you.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Up
My Rating: Thumbs Up

Another great play on an already existing word! Nuff said!


Now this is where I prepare to astound and amaze you with my wordy ability to weave these new terms into a little tale using my bloggy friends as the main characters.

Not So Simply Single was picking up her friend Sangria Smiles for their usual Friday night Girl’s Outting.

“Are you ready?” asked Single

“Defecately! Just let me take my insurance piss and we’ll leave!” answered Sangria through the bathroom door.

Sangria and Single entered the bar together, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Before they could get settled a well-dressed man approached them from across the room. Sangria saw him headed in their direction and leaned over to whisper to her friend.

“Fashionmista at twelve o’clock.”

Single followed her gaze. The man ran his hand through his already slicked back hair and smiled at her.

“Hello, the name’s Hank,” the fashionmista said to Single. “Nice rack. I think I saw you at the strip club once. I was the one with all the chicks falling all over me.”

Single and Sangria exchanged a look of disgust.

“Well Hank, thanks for introducing yourself but we have better things to do somewhere over there,” said Single.

Sangria giggled and the two ladies walked away.

“How come nobody ever approaches  me like that?” asked Sangria

“It’s called Somebody’s Girl Syndrome,” explained Single. “Guys must just think you’re already taken.”

“What? Really?” asked Sangria.

“Yeah well, that, and I out rack you,” said Single and adjusted her swelling breast to prove her point.

Valentine's Day Survival Video

Valentine's Day this year was a little like this for me....

 

So I looked up some survival techniques and found this helpful little video

Then my mother sent me this in the mail...

Love Smart: Find the One You Want, Fix the One You've Got

Date #5: Where Legs are Supposed to Part

Since I’ve re-entered the dating world I’ve discovered there are many mysteries to the dating life. What do you wear on the first date? How long do you wait to return a guy’s phone call? How can you tell if a guy is really interested in getting to know you or just wants to get in your pants? And the biggest mystery of all, how long do you wait before putting out?

I have to admit that I’ve been largely unsuccessful at finding someone worthy to date. There have been a handful of eligible bachelors that have shown interest in me over the last several months, but none of them, not one, have made it past date number five. I’ve concluded that if a man makes it successfully to the end of Date #5, it’s time to open the gates. However, in my case Date #5 has proved itself over and over again to be the end-all number.

Let’s do a little recall of the last bachelor that made it to Date #5. Surely you remember Mr. Shakespeare? He was the man who, on Date #5, I took to my company Christmas party. He got tanked, covered himself in champagne, and proceeded to make a fool out of himself. We all know that ended very badly for him.

I haven’t written about my last bachelor, partially because I haven’t had time and partially because part of me must have known he wouldn’t be around for long. However, I feel that a little recap of our brief dating encounter is necessary to prove my Date #5 theory.

My most recent bachelor was introduced to me by a co-worker. There was an immediate attraction on both sides. (His front side and my backside)

Our first date felt easy and natural, no awkward moments, just two people chilling with good music by the fireside. It was a great date, probably one of my best. At the end of the night, he drove me home and I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Date #2 felt a little more forced because we went out to dinner and had to rely on our own conversation skills for entertainment rather than live music. This is where I learned his dating skills were pretty primitive. However, he had the basics down. Pick up the check; hold the door; tell me I look pretty; that sort of thing. His conversation skills however were all one-sided.

After dinner, we went to a night club and again enjoyed more live entertainment. It became obvious to me very quickly that this was his comfort zone. I slid into his lap and we kissed a little. No big deal. He drove me home that night, and we made out in his car for a minute. This is where I learned I was a better kisser than him, but I was still interested in another date. 

Okay, so it was a little better than this!

Date #3 found us once again enjoying live music by firelight. We danced a little and flirted a lot. When he drove me home, we had a pretty hot and heavy make out session in his car again. This is when I noticed that each time I was in his car there was a packed duffle bag in the back seat. Was he expecting to spend the night? I did not invite him in.

Date #4 brought us to karaoke at Chinese restaurant.  Our dinner conversation was much improved upon the last time we ate out and we both seemed to be having a really good time. (Probably because I opted not to sing) We eventually gravitated toward the clubs in downtown and landed at one club in particular where we got pretty hot and heavy on the dance floor. I noticed him tugging the front of his shirt down as we exited the dance floor. It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling knowing I could still give a man a raging hard-on in public.

Again he drove me home and we proceeded to make out intensely in the front seat of his car. Something hit me unexpectedly (probably the two large cups of Chinese coffee) and I broke free. We talked for a little bit and then somehow the conversation shifted to things you pull out of a drain in hotel bathrooms. (Did I mention his conversation skills were primitive?) Now that the mood was thoroughly killed, I quickly bade him good-night.

I’m quite sure that poor man’s balls were as blue as a whale for days to come.

Days passed, and I did not hear from him. I confessed my confusion over the situation to my friend. She looked at me sympathetically and patted me on the knee.

“It’s probably because you didn’t put-out sweetie,” she said. “You can’t get a guy all worked up on the dance floor and then send him home empty handed.”

Translation: You’re a cock teasing whore and men don’t like you.

The sound of my heart breaking could almost be heard over the loud rush of wind whistling out of my deflating ego.   

I realized that Date #5 is the point where things either get serious or they fizzle out. In my case, there is something besides being a cock-teasing whore that is standing in my way of getting past Date #5.  

After some soul searching and taking a good long look in the mirror, I was able to determine the route of the problem. It’s not that I’m a cock-teasing whore. I’m just not ready to open up to anyone just yet, because I’m still hurting over my divorce.

I still love Minute Man. I’ve been too angry at myself for feeling that way to really accept it as a truth. However, I’ve recently permitted myself full access to those feelings, and with that access, came a level of truth and knowledge that was a real eye-opener. I realized that I’ve been so emotionally guarded that I haven’t allowed myself to feel anything – not even my own broken heart.

I’m going to stop being angry at myself for loving him. I’ve been under the notion that loving somebody that hurt me makes me unfaithful to myself. That’s not the truth. The truth is sometimes people we love hurt us, but that doesn’t mean we stop loving them. Sometimes being faithful to ourselves means we just have to stop handing them the knife that keeps cutting us down.

Wordy Wednesday: Peehicular Manslaughter

Because so many of you have expressed that you would greatly miss my Wordy Wednesday feature using words and terms sited on Urban Dictionary, I screwed off at work made some painstaking sacrifices to find the time to throw together this week’s edition of Wordy Wednesday.

Super Bowel - A raucous bowel movement experienced the day after the Super Bowl due to consumption of large amounts of chili, hot wings, and beer.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Up
My Rating: Thumbs Down

I have a couple issues with this term. First of all, it’s off-putting. It makes me wrinkle my nose in distaste. Secondly, it’s incomplete. A bowel is a part of the human body. Technically, it does not refer to turd. If it was Super Bowel Movement, then ok, but then it becomes more difficult to interpret the meaning. This term fails.

Peehicular Manslaughter - While using urinal and the piss splashes back at you or the guy standing next to you.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Down
My Rating: Thumbs Up

I don’t care what Urban Dictionary says, I love this term. It generated an instant giggle from me. (Much better than the distasteful nose wrinkle) To be 100 percent correct though, it could only refer to splashing the person next to you with your pee, because you cannot commit manslaughter on yourself. Correct? But yes, I like this term for pee back splash. Guys, does this really happen?

Is a Frog’s Ass Water Tight? This is a phrase that hails from the heart of Georgia. It is used to describe something that is so obvious.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Down
My Rating: Thumbs Up

Aw! This term is SO cute!! Just the very image of a frog’s bunghole makes the corner of my lips turn upward. Plus, if it represent a part of this beautiful country and its culture then I’m all for it! Do I love it? Is a frog’s ass water tight? Yes!

iFinger - It's the finger(s) you purposely keep clean when you eat something messy so you could operate your touchscreensmartphone/tablet/GPS without making the screen look like your plate.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Up
My Rating: Thumbs Up

Let’s face it; we live in a multi-tasking society folks. Although I personally have not engaged in this action, I’m sure this sort of thing happens all the time. Therefore, I give this word my thumps up rating.

PartyPressure - When you are invited to a party or event and don't really feel like going, but you feel some sort of obligation to attend. Like peer pressure, but related specifically to going to a party.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Down
My Rating: Thumbs Up

Yep, been there, done that! At one time, this was the only working method known to actually get me out into the social scene. This term doesn’t win points for creativity, but it wins my thumbs up rating for practicality.

Now, prepare to be astounded and amazed as I twist these terms into a silly little fable using my followers as main characters.

Suz was sitting at her dining room table munching on Cheetos while surfing Blogger on her smartphone when she heard a knock at her door.

"Come in!" she shouted through a mouthful of Cheetos.

My Own Private Idaho whom she was expecting strutted into the dining room.

"Are you going to the party at Inferno tonight?" Idaho asked.

"I don't think so," said Suz.

"Come on, it will be fun!" said Idaho

"It's a Monday night," argued Suz

"And?"

"Look, I just really don't feel like going out," insisted Suz

"You said that last time," said Idaho

"I don't have anything to wear," said Suz

"You look great in what you're wearing now. Besides, everybody's going to think you're a loser if you don't go,"" persisted Idaho

"Fine!" spat Suz. "Enough with the party pressure already! I'll go!"

"Great!" a triumphant Idaho glowed. "I knew I could convince you!"

Suz extended her middle finger in response to Idaho.

"Careful," warned Idaho. "I wouldn't want to see anything happen to your iFinger."

"Very funny," sneered Suz. "Did you bring whiskey?"

"Is a frog's ass water tight?" Idaho replied and produce a fifth of Jack Daniel's from his jacket pocket.   

After hitting the bottle of Jack a couple times Suz was in much better spirits and ready to party.

Almost immediately upon entering the club, Suz reached for her stomach.

"What's wrong?" asked Idaho

"I ate too much at the Super Bowl party last night and now I'm suffering from Super Bowel," said Suz.

(authors note: See! THAT is how you would use that term! Snap!)

"Oh TMI!" said Idaho, "I gotta hit the head myself though. Meet back here?"

"Yep!" Suz called over her shoulder as she hurried to the ladies room.

Suz finished her business quickly and stood waiting outside the men's room for Idaho. She was startled by the sounds of a little girl screaming coming from the men's room. She was about to grab a staff member for help when Lost in Idaho exited the restroom with a face as white as the fur of a lab rat.

"What happened in there??" Suz asked.   

"I...I.. I..." a shaken Idaho attempted.

"Calm down, take a deep breath," assured Suz. "It's okay. What happened??"

Idaho took a deep breath and took a moment to steady himself.

"I was just made victim of Peehicular Manslaughter!!!" he cried.

"What??" asked Suz.

"Some dude's pee back-splashed on me!!!" a distressed Idaho exclaimed indignantly.

Suz began to giggle.

"It's NOT FUNNY!" cried Idaho!

"Serves you right for laying party pressure on me earlier!"Suz declared.

How I Feel About HTML Code

It's funny having two classes that are polar opposites of each other. I love my art class. I actually look forward to showing up there after work and covering myself with chalk and charcoal. I'm learning a lot about shading and values. We've been working on drawing draped cloth. It may sound pretty boring but seeing all the different outcomes of the same material is amazing.

But my Web Page Design class is not quite as enjoyable. We're currently learning HTML code. 

At first my understanding of HTML was pretty primitive

Then I started putting meaning to the codes...

But just when I thought I was making some headway, trouble struck.....

And I started to feel a lot like this...

Somehow, I was able to put things back into perspective...

I just hope after all this work, I don't end up like this guy

Wordy Wednesday: Fartriloquism

Now that the semester has started back up again I can predict that my Wordy Wednesdays will once again become unpredictable. So get it while it’s hot folks!! Here are my ratings for the most recent terms sited on Urban Dictionary!

Fartriloquism - Art of “throwing” one's farts in such a way that the sound and/or smell seems to come from a source other than the farter.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Down

My Rating: Thumbs Up

I was right on the cuff with this one. However, after some deep soul searching I decided to give fartriloquism my thumbs up rating. I think the final deciding factor in this judgment was recalling how my ex used to blame his passed gas on a flock of ducks – and I believed him at least once. Now that’s talent folks!!

Eye Broccoli - opposite of eye candy, someone unappealing to look at

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Down

My Rating: Thumbs Down

I couldn’t give this one my thumbs up rating because I think it encourages mean spirited thinking. Why can’t we all just get along???

Petri Douche - Petri Douche: A place/location where a lot of douchebags are known to congregate.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Up

My Rating: Thumbs Up

And this is where I appear to become a complete hypocrite. Why give this term my thumbs up after rejecting the Eye Broccoli? I’ll tell you why! This term right here puts a general population at the mercy of mean spirited thinking, rather than singling out an individual. Singling out individuals in a negative manner based solely upon their looks is wrong folks! Singling out a small group of people based upon their predictably bad behavior, well that’s just fine. 

501k - When one’s economic situation has become so tenuous that their entire net worth is in the pockets of their jeans.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Down

My Rating: Thumbs Down

This term fails on so many different levels, it is astounding. First of all, individuals of the female gender can tell you that the last scraps of their financial well-being will never be found in the pocket of their jeans. (We have other places for that sorta thing) Secondly, Levi 501?? Please, there are SO many other varieties of jeans out there. To single it down to just one pair is pretty much sacrilegious in my book. 

Congressional Review - To loosely read or breeze through a document, likely missing a fair amount of the information contained within.

Urban Dictionary Rating: Thumbs Up

My Rating: Thumbs Up

Being a student, there is no way I couldn’t find appreciation for this term. In fact, just the other day my art professor told the class to “skim through” the first six chapters of the book. I can hardly wait to report back to her that I completed the Congressional Review of those first six chapters!!

Now I will astound and amaze you with my ability to weave these words into a friendly little fable starring some of my most loyal followers.

Daydream Believer and Mrs. One Day were hanging out at their local Petri Douche because their club of choice was closed for renovations.

“I can’t believe we even bothered coming here,” moaned Daydream Believer. “I’ve never seen so many douchebags congregated in one location.”

Mrs. One Day paused, looking up from her Congressional Review of last month’s edition of Cosmopolitan and scanned the crowd. 

“Mmm, look at that douchebag over there with his gangsta pants hanging below his knees,” Mrs. One Day agreed.

“Now that’s a fine piece of Eye Broccoli for ya,” chimed Daydream Believer.

Just then the aforementioned gangsta pants douchebag walked by the table where Daydream Believer and Mrs. One Day were sitting.

The sound of a reverberating fart echoed from behind Daydream Believers seat. Mrs. One Day’s eyes widened with shock.

“Daydream Believer!! That was offensive!!” stated Mrs. One Day

“What???” Daydream Believer exclaimed. “That wasn’t me!!”

Mrs. One Day raised her eyebrow and shot a pointed look of suspicion toward Daydream Believer.

“It wasn’t!!” Daydream Believer insisted. “It was gangsta pants over there! He must be a master at fartriloquism. He threw his fart to make it sound like it was me!!”

Gangsta Pants, hearing mention of his persona looked in their direction.

“Damn baby you could take that to the girlie’s room next time!” Gangsta Pants stated with a slight wave of his hand in front of his nose.

Daydream Believer’s jaw dropped in indignant protest.

“That’s it!” said Mrs. One Day. “No more popcorn for you!”

Gangsta Pants nodded solemnly in agreement and went about his way.

“I’ll swear on everything in my 501k it wasn’t me!!” cried Daydream Believer.

She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a button and a blue lint ball.

Mrs. One Day put her hand impatiently on her hip.

“That’s convincing,” said Mrs. One Day.

“But, but…” Daydream Believer continued in her own defense.

“Yeah, your butt stinks! Now off to the ladies’ room with you!” said Mrs. One Day.

“fartriloquism…” Daydream Believer trailed off pointing her finger across the room at Gangsta Pants.

“I don’t want to hear anymore of that mumbo jumbo, now Go!” said Mrs. One Day firmly.

Daydream Believer obediently got off her stool and headed toward the ladies’ room. This was the last time she was ever coming into a Petri Douche like this one.