More Than Words

Some people never say the words
I love you
It's not their style
to be so bold
Some people never say those words
I love you
But like a child they're longing
to be told

Something So Right...

I have a close friend whom I talk to on the phone at least once a week.  We've been doing this for over 13 years.  We can talk about everything and nothing.  At the end of the call, we always tell each other "I love you."  And we mean it.  I love her and would do anything for her.  I would like to think she'd say the same about me.

I was lying in bed tonight, trying to fall asleep, and it occurred to me that I've never in my entire life ever said those words to someone in a romantic sense.  I've felt them... or at least I thought I felt them...  four times in my adult life with members of the opposite sex.  Yet, I've never said them.  I waited for them to be said to me first.  That never happened so my side never got said. No.. I take it back.  One of them did say it -- a year too late, and by then it didn't mean anything to me and I definitely didn't want to say it back.

I tell my friends I love them.  I tell my cat I love her.  Heck, I've told people I don't really love I love them because they tickle my funny bone or do things that amuse me. I tell my car I love it.  I love certain tv shows.  I love Rick Springfield.  I love ... love ... love...  Seems almost like a meaningless word when you realize how many times in a day we/I say "love" without it really meaning anything powerful like love should.  I can say it to friends who aren't going to shut me down and to inanimate objects that could care less.  To men - fahgetaboutit.  Can't do it.  "I ... I... I likeyoualot...."

What makes it so hard to say those words to someone you have deep feelings for?  And I need to clarify here -  I'm not currently in love.  I'm not being contemplative because I'm trying to muster up the courage to tell someone how I feel.  I'm just in one of those moods.  Too much thinking.  Watched a romantic movie on TV before I crawled into bed.

I am a total mush when it comes to romance.  I cry during Hallmark commercials and movies.  I read romance novels.  My DVD library consists mostly of chick flicks and romantic comedies.  I wear out CDs filled with love songs.  I watch TITANIC every time it is on TV even though I know it has a sad and tragic end.  I can say the ending to WHEN HARRY MET SALLY right along with Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan.  ("I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.")  I daydream about meeting the man of my dreams and living happily ever after.  (Only after he says it first ....)

Lately, I've been wondering if I had had the courage to say the words when I felt them in the past, would it have made a difference?  I know I tried to show those men how I felt but I never came out and told them.  They either didn't realize it or if they did realize it, they were too kind to outright shut me down.

I remember a male friend told me once that he had never said the words either and never planned to.  He said they had too much power.  He said it was like finding out a superhero's weakness.  As soon as you say the words, you open yourself up for hurt, pain, vulnerability, expectations...  He said why would any sane person want to do that.  I told him he was just a scaredy cat afraid to take a chance on great things and possibilities.  He said he'd take companionship and no drama over possibility.  I think I believed him and adopted his way of thinking as mine.  Ironically, he got married a few years after he told me this so I'm not sure if he was all talk -- or if the person he married is the one saying "I love you" and he's saying "ditto" (like Patrick Swayze in GHOST.)

I just hope I haven't missed out on my chance.  Wouldn't it suck to realize you only get so many opportunities in life to say how you feel and once they are gone, they're gone?

Maybe I'd better start practicing.   I  lo... lov...   (damn....) 

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

It's suppertime.
Yeah, it's suppertime.
Oh, it's sup-sup suppertime very best time of day.

It's suppertime.
Yeah, it's sup-per time.
And when suppertime comes can supper be far away?

Bring on the soup dish, bring on the cup,
Bring on the bacon and fill me up.
'Cause it's supper
Supper, supper, suppertime.

I think I've said it before -- I like to entertain.

When I lived in Ohio, I had some sort of themed party every few months.  I had a nice core group of friends who would come to my parties and every now and then I'd mix it up by introducing some new friends.  At one point, there were 4 or 5 of us who took turns hosting parties at each others' places.  

I fancied myself a Martha Stewart wannabe.  Invitations were sent.  Decorations were purchased.  Menu was planned well in advance.  I even had some sort of ice breaker or party game to help loosen things up.  Channeling my inner DJ, I'd even create a CD (or, gasp, cassette) of appropriate music for the various occasions.  

I've looked at the photos recently and miss those days.

It's probably no wonder then that I've been having dreams recently about throwing a dinner party.

In my dream, there are three people from my current job invited.  At first, I didn't understand the logic of the three people I invited because a couple are relatively new friends but then I realized the connecting factor is that all three are people who like to cook and with whom I've had conversations about recipes in the past.  The rest of the guest list consists of 4 of my oldest (in length of time known, not by age) good friends.  

In my dream, everyone is in my living room (you can see a really old video of my living room that I made for my mom when I first moved into my apartment May 2008) sitting around talking.  My older friends are entertaining my newer friends with stories about me, how they met me, and things we've done and said and vice versa.  

I bring out trays of food and place them on the coffee table and then on a white farmer's style dining room table (which I don't own) and then on the breakfast bar/counter area in my kitchen. Everyone fills up a plate and returns to their seats.  I stand back and observe everyone and then, without saying a word to anyone, I go into my bedroom, pull back the covers on my bed and crawl in, fully dressed, and pull the covers up over my head.

At this point, the dream gets a little weird.  Now, I'm like some sort of ghost or something watching everything.  I can see myself lying on my side in bed.  I can see everyone talking and eating in the living room, totally functioning and having fun without me.  Then, I can see into my spare bedroom.

In my spare bedroom, which is set up as a home office, home library and Abby's playroom, there is this guy from the TV reality show Storage Wars sitting in a large recliner, in front of large flat-screen tv, playing some sort of video game.  This guy is totally obnoxious on the show. He likes to drive up the bidding and has this annoying "Yep" thing that he does when he bids.

My mom now arrives out of nowhere and goes into the spare bedroom and tells Dave (the guy from the reality show) that he needs to go out and join the rest of the party.  He cusses her out and continues to play video games.

Then, I wake up.

The first morning, I woke up craving pancakes.

I had the dream again Friday night and Saturday night.  Each morning, I woke up craving different breakfast foods.

Yesterday (Sunday) afternoon, I had a really bad headache and took a nap and had the same dream during my nap.  When I woke up, I wasn't craving anything but I felt like I should make some sort of breakfast food anyway.

I think my subconscious is trying to tell me it's time to have parties again.

I wish I knew why I felt the need to just leave the party, though, and why no one seemed to notice that I left.  Is it because I was exhausted from all of the work?  Was I upset about something?  Was the party so well-organized that I wasn't needed anymore?

When I re-hash the dream, I get a "Sixth Sense" kind of feeling.  At no point does anyone really talk to me or interact with me.   What if I was dead and this dream was my wake or something? I think Dave may represent my dad, who always seemed to be in a recliner when I was growing up, distant and away from the things going on around.

Very strange.

I didn't have the dream last night, though, which is a good start. 

It's never boring in my head.

The Cubicle Next Door

I can't fight this feeling any longer.
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow.
What started out as friendship,
Has grown stronger.
I only wish I had the strength to let it show. 

One of my favorite authors is Siri Mitchell.  I like her writing style.  It reminds me a lot like my own writing style.  A few years ago, I read one of her books called THE CUBICLE NEXT DOOR.  I was hooked.

Last night, after having some alcohol and chocolate with dinner, I was in a mellow mood.  I don't drink much and a little alcohol goes a long way with me. After a couple of drinks, I become super laid back, very drowsy and super affectionate.  Since I live alone, the affectionate part is not very useful.  I turned to an old stand by instead.  Romance novels.  I decided I wanted to re-read THE CUBICLE NEXT DOOR. (Yes, I'm weird in that I will re-read books I've already read.)  Mainly because it's about blogging and also because I recommended it to someone recently and wanted to make sure it really was as good as I remembered it to be.

THE CUBICLE NEXT DOOR is about a no-nonsense girl-next-door type who is forced to share her workspace with a somewhat cocky and attractive man.  He annoys her and rubs her the wrong way so she blogs about him.  Annoyance turns to affection and her change of heart plays out publicly in her blog, which has a growing audience of supporters, including (unknown to her) the object of her rants.  She says things in her blog that she can't say to him in real life, good and bad. You can read my complete review of the book here.

I can totally relate to the woman in the book.  For me, the annoying co-worker was "S".

In the fall of 2000, I moved to a new department at my former company and was paired with S.  He and I were going to be working on a special portfolio of loans together and needed to be partners.  S was (and I'm sure he probably still is) very attractive.  Young.  He was 7 years younger than me, fresh out of college, and the total opposite of me in personality.  He had this cocky yet charming attitude.  Girls swarmed around him wanting to do things for him.  He rolled into work late every morning, usually hung over, took very long lunches and hardly ever did anything more than the basics needed to get his work done.  Being that we were partners, that left a lot of stuff for me to fix, do, etc.  He drove me nuts.  We fought like cats and dogs.  He was always telling me loosen up.  I was always telling him to grow up.  Bicker, bicker, bicker.  And not in a good way.  Not in a fun way.  

Then, about 6 months into the partnership, my attitude towards him started to change.  You know the saying that there's a thin line between love and hate?  I didn't really understand it until I met S.  I didn't love him but I realized that the same energy it took to despise him was the same kind of energy to like him. I had been interested in someone else when he and I started to work together so I never really "saw" him as the attractive, charming guy he was.  He did not like the guy I liked at all.  He would tell me that I could do better and that I shouldn't let a guy talk to me the way the guy talked to me.  (He was cruel and abusive, but that's another story for another day.. and after a lot more alcohol.)  I got mad that he was giving me advice when he couldn't even remember the names of the girls he slept with most of the time.

I digress.  One cold winter day, he told me I was going to lunch with him.  No arguments.  I was going.  He made me go to the mall with him and give feedback on clothing he was trying on.  He had no intention of buying anything.  He just wanted me to get the heck out of the office.  So, I went.  Then, for being such a team player, he bought me hot chocolate at a coffee shop in the mall.  He was actually quite funny and nice.  We chatted for awhile and I started to warm up to the thought that maybe I had misjudged him a little.  That was the first turning point in my mindset about him.  While we were in the coffee shop, the clerk tried to sell us some cheesecake.  I'm not a big fan of cheesecake but they had a white chocolate raspberry cheesecake there that was very delicious.  I declined the cheesecake, citing a diet.  The second turning point in my attitude happened when he made a harumph sound and said, "You know, some guys actually like their women a little on the thick side."  I still resisted the cheesecake, but after that, I started to hate him less and like him more.

A couple of months later, I got re-assigned to another project and he moved on to another role in the department and we were not reliant upon each other anymore.  One day, out of the blue, he showed up at my desk with this plastic take-out container.  It had a slice of white chocolate raspberry cheesecake in it.  He just smiled and said, "You can hate me later" and walked away.

A few months later, he left the company altogether and I never heard from him again.  It never would have worked out because he had a lot of growing up to do (and so did I, as it turns out.)  But, he did help me in ways he'll probably never know -- I have learned to be more tolerant and less rigid.  I also learned that first impressions may not always be the best impressions.  I also learned that a little cheesecake now and then doesn't hurt.  My only regret is that I never got the names and numbers of those guys he knew who liked "thick" women. :)

Someone at work used to tell him all the time that he resembled the lead singer of Matchbox Twenty so whenever I hear the song "Push" by them, I think of him.  It was popular when I knew him and it sort of was fitting for our relationship, too.  

I wanna push you around, well I will, I will
I wanna push you down, well I will, I will
I wanna take you for granted, I wanna take you for granted
Well I will

Need A Little Patience

She wants to lead the Glamorous Life
She don't need a man's touch
She wants to lead the Glamorous Life
But without love it ain't much 

I love getting manicures and pedicures.  When I lived in Ohio, I didn't treat myself to them as much as I do here, but I also didn't spend approximately 7 months out of the year wearing some sort of sandal or open shoe.  The pedicures are practically mandatory here.  I enjoy them, despite the fact that my feet are ticklish and I usually writhe in agony when they touch the bottom of my feet.  

Manicures are somewhat new for me.  I've been getting them to help curtail my nasty habit of chewing my nails.  Yes, yes, I'm a nail biter.  Hello, my name is Beverly D. and I bite my nails when I'm stressed or worried.  I've tried all sorts of things to keep myself from doing it, and the only thing that works lately is knowing I paid $20 to have someone paint them (well, ok, they do more than just paint them).

Every now and then, I get emails inviting me to try various local things for a reduced price. A few weeks ago, there was an invite to try a "deep pore facial" at some spa here in town for $30.  The regular price is $75.  I thought to myself, "Self, it's been almost 4 years since you've had a facial.. and you've been looking a little tired lately, why not indulge?"  So, I bought a certificate for the facial.

I had a facial, my first, about 4 years ago, when I first moved here, on the suggestion of my family doctor who felt I need to relax. (I was originally going to use the lyrics for RELAX at the top of my blog but I quickly realized it was all about orgasm and trust me, there was no orgasm involved in this facial.)  I went to a place called the Phoenix Spa and plopped down an obscene amount of money for a facial.  True, the place was nice.  Really nice.  Fluffy robes, fuzzy slippers, water flavored with mint, lemon, cucumber and orange (not all together).  They even offered snacks and such, like you see on TV.  I just wanted a facial.

I didn't enjoy it.  I don't know why I thought things had changed since then.

This place did not have robes or slippers or anything special.  The best part of the facial was the actual cleansing and such, but then they slapped a "deep cleansing" mask on my face, turned on elevator music (I heard a musak version of TO MAKE YOU FEEL MY LOVE which will not leave my head now) and said, "I'll be back in 30 minutes."  Whaaaaa?  30 minutes?

As soon as she left, my stomach started to growl.  I was up at 6:30 today, had breakfast around 7:30, worked my PT job for 3 hours, then went to the rec center, then skipped lunch, and it was going on 1:30 at this point.  Then, I had to go to the bathroom.  Then, I couldn't get comfortable.  I am not someone who can sit still for very long.  At work, I have to get up every 30 minutes or so just to pace or something.  I'm frequently repositioning myself in my chair.  I am a leg jiggler and chair swiveler.  I even toss and turn so much when I sleep that my bed looks like a war zone when I get up in the morning.  So, to make me lie on my back for 30 minutes, with a thick mask on my face, listening to musak... TORTURE.  I couldn't get anything to eat or drink.  I couldn't go to the bathroom.  (Well, I could have but it would have been a tad bit embarrassing to explain.)

I know the point is to lie there and relax.  I couldn't do it.  I thought about work (both full-time and part-time jobs.)  I thought about stuff I put on Facebook Friday night that I regretted doing.  I thought about how expensive my upcoming vacation to Vegas is going to be.  I thought about what I could make for dinner.  The only positive thing I thought about was that I noticed my stomach is flatter when I lie down.

When she came back and released me from my mask prison, I was so happy.  "Are you almost done?" I asked.  I think I scared her.  "Most people fall asleep.  Were you awake the whole time?"  Um, yes. YES!

She told me to take my time getting up because I might be dizzy and to feel free to linger as long as I wanted. 

As soon as she left, I eased my stiff back off of the table, went to the bathroom, put in eye drops because my contacts were fused to my eyeballs and tried to make some semblance of order to my hair which was sticking up all over the place like a troll's. 

As soon as I got home, I washed my face.  True, it is very smooth and feels great.   But, until they find a way to do an express facial, I'm going to have to put "facials" in the "NO" category of things I like to do.

To Have A Friend...

Friends
How many of us have them?
Friends
Ones we can depend on

Friends
How many of us have them?
Friends
Before we go any further, let's be

Friends

I know I've said here before...  but it bears repeating.  I had a far easier time making and keeping good friends when I was younger.  My "friend-dar" (like gay-dar) seemed to be more finely tuned back then.  Or maybe I had more patience.  Or maybe my needs were simpler.

However, since moving to Virginia Beach, it has been hard to make friends.  No, I take it back.  It has been easy to make friends.  It has been hard to keep them.

When I first moved here, I had high hopes that the realtor who helped me find the beach house could be a friend.  Then, she did such a crappy job of maintaining and managing the beach house that I knew I couldn't be friends with someone who was flaky, flighty and irresponsible.  She never responded timely to calls and emails and made excuses for why she didn't disclose to me before I moved in that there was no frigging heat in the beach house, that some old fisherman guy would feel free to come and go as he pleased, using my water to rinse off his boat and ask to use my bathroom and kitchen at odd hours...  

Then, I met this lady that I had interviewed for a position on my team when I was a supervisor.  I didn't hire her because she couldn't work the hours I needed her to work.  However, we really hit it off in the interview and she did have some good skills, on paper.  I gave her resume to other supervisors who had open positions.  One day, I was in Harris Teeter (a grocery store) near where I live/work and heard someone saying my name.  I turned and it was the lady and a little girl, about 6 or 7.  She reminded me how I knew her and we made small talk and she told me that someone from my company had offered her a job and she felt she owed me a huge thank you.  She wanted to take me out to lunch to thank me.  I gave her my home phone number.  Then, she started working at my company, and started to email me.  At first, she was polite and friendly.  Seemed like a pretty decent person. I agreed to meet her for lunch at her "favorite Italian restaurant", which wasn't too far from where I lived.  The restaurant was a dive.  She was 15 minutes late and showed up with her daughter.  I like kids.  But, if I want to hang out with someone my own age, I don't want to have to play nice with their kids too.

I have been accused on more than one occasion of being "Sally-like" (from When Harry Met Sally) when I go out to eat.  I have a variety of things I don't like to eat and tend to drive wait-staff a little nuts with all of my questions about what can and can't be substituted, removed or altered in my meals.  I've gotten better... but mostly because I won't go out to places I'm not familiar with or places I can't fully research before I go.  That said, this woman was far far worse.  She talked to the waitstaff like they were dumb adults and practically told them how to prepare her food.

Then, while we were talking, she only wanted to bash her ex.  There are two things I don't like to talk about on a "first date" (and even though this was not a date, I think the rule should apply to "new friends" too)-- work/money and past bad relationships.  It just gets too awkward and I'm a big fan of a clean slate.  I don't need to know how much someone screwed you over in the past or how much you hate your job.  Let's talk about something positive...  like how I'm not like that person who screwed you over and how I have nothing to do with why you hate your job. :)

I left the meeting a little disappointed.  However, I am a big fan of benefit of the doubt, which I've said before.  Eternally hopeful and optimistic. She continued to email me at work and then we decided to meet up again, this time without her child, at another restaurant.  A BBQ place near the oceanfront.  She was on time for this one, but dressed a little on the revealing side.  When we got inside, the place was crawling with men.  Now, don't get me wrong, I love men.  I've dated a few in my time.  However, once we were seated, her mission became clear -- she was there to look for a man.  She told me that a friend had told her that firemen, construction workers and bikers like to frequent the restaurant.  We hardly talked because she was busy adjusting her very low cut top and trying to get attention.  

Things sort of disintegrated after that.  She would call me to ask if her daughter could come by and swim in my pool and sent me emails at work about how much she hated her job, etc.  I eventually told her it wasn't appropriate for me to be friends with someone at work, especially when I was a supervisor.  My company has no real policy against social or romantic relationships, which totally surprises me because at my previous company, they were very big on making sure that work and personal relationships were clearly defined.  However, she seemed to buy it.  She then started being uber chilly at work and when I moved to another department, would try to be the boss of me, because she had gotten a promotion and felt she was better than me. 

Then, I made friends with another co-worker who would ask me stuff about my life and then go and gossip about me.  I had some gut feelings that she probably wasn't going to have my back when she would tell me stuff that other people told her and then would make me swear to her I wouldn't say anything.  I kind of had a feeling that if she was doing it with me, then she was probably doing it to me.  She left the company and I saw it as a perfect opportunity to extract myself from the friendship.  I also unfriended her on Facebook, which led to some pretty nasty messages from her telling me to grow up and stop being so childish.  She also posted stuff about me on some mutual friends' pages, so I unfriended them as well so that I wouldn't have to see such toxic immaturity.  

Recently, I find myself in a kind of awkward situation.   I have a new friend.  We got to know each other through other friends.  I trust my other friends and this new friend seemed to be okay, too.  But, lately, I'm not sure.  We don't have frequent contact and when we do, it's usually with the other friends around.  Because I do have a fairly friendly relationship with the other people, they know more about me than the new friend.  I think the new friend may be a little envious of that and has been asking me increasingly more personal questions about my life, my interests, etc.  I don't mind answering the questions as it's part of getting to know someone.  However, recently, we were talking with some of our mutual friends and I brought up something we have in common.  She got mad at me.  I got a message from her later after we all went our separate ways that her other friends didn't know about the thing we had in common and that she would prefer that I not let on to our mutual friends that she and I have been talking outside of when we're with them.  Very odd.  So, now I feel like a dirty little secret of some sort.  I have to pretend like I don't really know her even though I do know her?  I'm not allowed to tell our other friends that we've talked and hung out without them present?  Sheesh... you'd think I was seeing a married man or something.   So, now I'm in this "f*ck it" kind of mentality.  I don't want to tell her anything else about myself or my life and I don't want to tip toe around our other friends.  I also have not invested enough in the friendship to really want to "fight" for it.  When I first met her, something inside me said that something just didn't feel right and that I felt like there seemed to be a heavy reliance on our mutual friends.

Now, on a positive note, I have made a few new friends who are decent people whom I hope to continue to get to know and be friends with.  I'm just treading cautiously and being, you guessed it, eternally optimistic.  The new friends are people who are more like me.  We have similar senses of humor, sarcasm, intelligence, life paths and hobbies.  We have similar passions, drives and motivations.  The above potential friends were people who were not like me and were attempts to broaden my horizons.  

Moral of the story: stick to what I know... and listen to my gut.

Only The Good Die Young

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Bucket Lists.  It seems that a lot of my friends my age have them.  

A few years ago, I created one.  To be honest, I hadn't really given it much thought until one of the items on my list is going to be a reality next month.

I fell in love with Jason Mraz's music while visiting a friend here in Virginia in 2004.  A friend played the CD while we drove around and as soon as I heard "You and I Both", I was hooked.  There is just something about his voice.  Then, I saw the video and was shocked by the baby-faced somewhat geeky guy who sang the song.  I was also turned on by the fact that he used correct grammar.  Not "You and Me..."  No sirree.

I have this rule that I won't buy an artist's CD until I hear and like at least three songs on the CD.  I waived my rule for Jason Mraz.  I had my friend burn me a copy of hers to listen to until I could get to the store and buy my own copy.  Since then, I've added several of his CDs to my collection.  He does an awesome cover of Rainbow Connection, wearing a pink Rick Springfield t-shirt.  And most recently, he released "I'm Yours" and "Lucky", two songs that always put me in a good mood.   Seeing him in concert was on my "bucket list".  My friend who turned me onto his music and I are driving up to the DC area to see him with a friend of mine who lives up there on September 24.

What else is on my bucket list?

To see Jack Johnson in concert.  I love his songs Bubble Toes and Upside Down.

To visit Graceland.

To go parasailing.

To go to Hawaii.

To go to Paris.

To meet Rick Springfield.

To learn how to swim.

To learn how to surf.

To be a published writer.

To buy clothing in "normal" sizes.

To learn how to speak Italian.

To take a "cook's tour" of Italy.

To own my own house.

To make a positive difference in someone's life.

There are a few other items but they are too personal, even for me, to put out there.  Things I've always wanted to do and hope to do before I die.

I think the goals are obtainable.

I figure I have about 40 years to meet them.

As Jack Johnson sings:

I want to turn the whole thing upside down
I'll find the things they say just can't be found
I'll share this love I find with everyone
We'll sing and dance to Mother Nature's songs
I don't want this feeling to go away

Who's to say
I can't do everything
Well I can try
And as I roll along I begin to find
Things aren't always just what they seem

Love Potion # 9

I took my troubles down to Madame Rue
You know that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth
She's got a pad down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine
Sellin' little bottles of Love Potion Number Nine

Work for my part-time job has been scarce lately.  Go figure - I finally decide to take a real vacation to Vegas this year and need to save up "play" money, and now I'm scraping the barrel.  Hope it picks up soon.

While I've been clicking away for the past few hours, trying to get some work, I watched an old favorite movie of mine called LOVE POTION # 9.  It stars a barely famous Sandra Bullock as a nerdy scientist who stumbles upon some magic love potion that makes her irresistible to members of the opposite sex. As with most romantic comedies, there is a lot of confusion and mayhem as she struggles to find true love, which as with most romantic comedies, had nothing to do with the love potion.

Made me think -- would I use such a thing if it were given to me?

I went to an "adult toy party" a few weeks ago and the hostess raved about a pheromone spray which allegedly drives men wild. (Well, she's not going to say, "It's just fragrance and oil with a sexy name....") She even spritzed us with it.  I passed three men on my way to my apartment after the party and none of them dropped to their knees begging me to make them my love slaves. Abby, however, seemed to enjoy it.  (But, she loves me without the spray so her inappropriate licking and rolling around doesn't count.)

So, now, watching this movie...  my mind starts to wander.  What if I suddenly showed up at the nearest male-populated place, doused from head to toe in some "drives men wild" spray?  Would I really want that? What happens once the spray wears off?  Then what?

It's kind of like when you watch the Twilight Zone and there's some episode about someone wishing for something and be warned "Be careful what you wish for" and they wish for the object of their affection to love them passionately and insanely and then, the person is driven nuts by the constant attention, suffocating love, etc.  

So, I guess as cliche as it sounds, I wouldn't want a magic potion to make someone fall in love with me. 

However, I may be interested in borrowing some for a nice long weekend in Vegas.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.  Right? ;)

The Big 50

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

 I'm having a bit of blogger's block.  I need to go do something exciting so I have something to write about.

A few weeks ago, I got spammed by someone with an email asking me to list 50 random and odd facts about myself and send it to all of my friends if I wanted to have good luck.  I don't do chain mail, but I could use some good luck.

So, here's a list of 50 random and odd facts about me.

1. I don't like mustard.  In any shape, form, recipe or brand.  Not on my food or in my food.  Not wet or dry.
2. GAIN is my favorite laundry detergent.
3. Pink is my favorite color.
4. I had my tonsils out when I was 6.
5. I can't sleep with the bedroom door shut.
6. I tell Abby "Mommy loves you. Be good. See you tonight." every morning before I leave.
7. I believe in true love.
8. Men whose names start with the letter "R" have played significant roles in my life.
9. I often wish I had a cool job like special investigator, FBI agent or forensics specialist.
10. I love the water but I don't know how to swim.
11. When I was a little girl, the one thing I wanted more than anything was a white canopy bed with pink frilly bedding.
12. I have a half-sister I've never met.
13. I broke my right ankle in 1992 falling down some stairs and now I'm afraid of going down stairs without looking at them as I go down them.
14. I love lying in bed listening to thunderstorms and watching lightning.
15. I could eat cantaloupe for every meal.
16. I had a psychic reading many many years ago and the lady said that the letter "K" would play a big part in whom I'd marry.  She also said I'd never have children of my own but that I'd help raise a daughter.
17. I'm superstitious.
18. I spent the night in an alleged haunted house but didn't know it until the person I was house sitting told me about it later.
19. I did not get my license until I was 17.
20. I'm afraid of snakes, knives and heights.
21. I slept with a night light until I left for college.
22. Hallmark commercials and movies make me cry.
23. I act a lot tougher than I really am.
24. I'm actually a pretty shy person.
25. I like daisies over roses.
26. I consider myself romantic but prefer song lyrics over poetry.
27. I'm a two-drink drunk.
28. I shoplifted some "googly eyes" from Woolworth's when I was a kid for a craft project I was making.
29. I prefer salty things to sweet things.
30. I screen all of my phone calls.
31. I prefer Coca Cola to Pepsi.
32. Clowns creep me out.
33. I hated my name when I was a kid because I could never find a pencil or ruler with it on it.
34. I had a crush on this guy in college and would leave notes in his mailbox, written in pink ink, telling him how much I liked him.  Then, later, we had a class together and I would purposely take notes using the same pink pen, but he never caught on.
35. I do not like gory movies.
36. I love old horror films from the 50s and 60s.
37. I love old romantic comedies from the 50s and 60s.
38. I know all of the words to the movie PRETTY WOMAN.
39. I think a sense of humor is far more sexier on a person than 6-pack abs.
40. I do not like "women's talk shows" (like the View.)
41. I sleep on the right side of the bed, on my right side.
42. I prefer showers to soaking in a tub.  I think soaking in a tub is too much like sitting in "person soup".
43. I was allegedly conceived at a drive-in movie theater.
44. I like seafood but I do not like fish.
45. I don't like mushrooms.
46. I have a hard time telling people how I feel about them.
47. I prefer the scent of men's aftershave over women's perfume.
48. Halloween is my favorite holiday.
49. 28 is my favorite number.
50. I like to make lists.
    

A Hairy Situation

Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair

This past weekend, I became the victim of a talkative, distracted hairdresser who cut my hair way shorter than I wanted.  Now, I get to suffer for the next 4-6 weeks while it grows back out.  The lady was appropriately apologetic and offered me a free haircut (it was only $13) or free product (it was $29).  I chose the free product, ironically called Big Sexy Hair.

All of my life, I've wanted someone else's hair.  Cursed with thin, baby fine hair, I could never wear barrettes. My first grade school photo shows a barrette slowly migrating south on my head as the photographer snapped away.  I also have "naturally wavy" hair, which my mother thought would be adorable permed in the 4th grade.  My brother teased me mercilessly and called me Q-tip head because my naturally wavy hair frizzed and poufed all around my head.  If Richard Simmons had been popular back then, I'm sure I would have been considered his love child.

I envied those girls with the long flaxen locks.  I remember being jealous of my school friends who would sit together and comb each others' hair.  I went through a phase where I did not cut my hair at all, except for my bangs.  It would just hang there limply. 

I've had mulletts.  I've had bowl cuts.  I had the "Dorothy Hamil" about four years after it wasn't popular any more.  I dyed it maroon once.  I had the asymmetrical cut in college, where one side was longer than the other.  I've experimented with sun-in and chemical streaking kits.  I've tinkered with hot rollers, curling irons, and krimping irons. Headbands were my friend in the early 90s.  I've done everything short of shaving myself bald and starting over.

And yet, I have not been able to reach a happy medium with my hair.  

I notice that Avon sells hair extensions now.  If I quit my current job and go some place where no one knows me, I think I might invest in some hair extensions and see if I can have "bouncing and behaving" hair like on commercials.  Hair I can toss seductively over my shoulder and coyly send come hither vibes to members of the opposite sex.   Hair that I can take to a salon and say, "I'd like the cut on page 42" and not have the stylist tsk at me and say, "Oh, honey, that just will not work."

Until then, I will keep trying to tuck hair that doesn't exist behind my ears (yes, she cut it that short) and pray that it grows quickly.  At least I'm still getting "ma'am"ed at the store and not "Sir"ed.

I have some miracle gro in the cabinet from an aborted gardening adventure.  I wonder if it works on scalps?

Turn The Radio On...

You could hear the music on the AM Radio

The VCR and the DVD - there wasn't none of that crap back in 1970
We didn't know about a World Wide Web
Was a whole different game being played back when I was a kid
Wanna get down in a cool way?
Picture yourself on a beautiful day
Big Bell Bottoms and groovy, long hair
Just a-walking in style with a portable CD player - No!
You would listen to the music on the AM Radio
Yeah, you could hear the music on the AM Radio 

 As far back as I can remember, music has been a big part of my life.

I got my first record player when I was 7.  It was a tiny portable "toy" record player that ran on D batteries and skipped.  I remember wanting one of those big record players like the music teacher had in grade school, with the big speaker in the front and the locking, hinged lid.  Brown handle.  I didn't want no stinking plastic PLAYSKOOL record player.  I wanted the real thing.

I started collecting records around the same time.  I'd get a weekly allowance and would save up my money to buy 45s.  I remember begging my mom to get me "Afternoon Delight" because I liked the "rocket" sound in the song.  I had no clue it was about a little afternoon nookie and obviously my mom didn't either because she bought me the record.  My second favorite song was a little country ditty called "Never ending song of love" by someone named Dickey Lee.  (I can't believe I still remember these artists.)  I don't know why I liked the song so much but I did.  Google it.  It's pretty sappy.  I guess I was a hopeless romantic as a child, too.

By the time I graduated high school, I had at least 20 of those round plastic record holders for my 45s and several plastic milk crates of albums (LPs).  Sadly, I left them all behind when I left for college and they eventually met their demise in the great storage shed fire of 1990.

I also spent a lot of time listening to the radio.   AM radio.  Barry Manilow, Captain and Tenille, Carpenters, Bee Gees, Eagles, and an odd assortment of country (and western) singers.  

In junior high, I remember holding a cassette recorder up to the radio to record songs.  This was before radios came with recorders built in.  I would wait for Casey Kasem's countdown on Sunday morning and sit there in my room, waiting to record my favorite songs, and get very upset when the DJ would talk through the beginning of the song.  Believe it or not, I still have some of those "mixed tapes" of the songs I recorded off of the radio.

I'm feeling kind of nostalgic because today is the 30th anniversary of the launch of MTV in 1981.  I remember the day MTV came on.  I was glued to my television for the entire 80s, watching music video after music video.  Who remembers that other channels tried to do their own video shows, too?  There was a show on one of the main networks on the weekend called Friday Night Videos ... and I believe TBS even had their own version called Night Tracks. I watched them too.   And yes, sometimes, I would hold my cassette player up to the tv to record songs or interviews.

I was such a dork, but music helped me survive my adolescence.  Seriously.   

I was a pretty shy kid.  I had some friends, but for the most part, I stayed in my room, reading books and listening to music.

Every mood has a song.  Every moment of my life has a song.  If you play a song from the 80s, I can pretty much tell you where I was and what I was doing when I first heard the song.   I can probably tell you who I was crushing on at the time and what outfit I was wearing.  I can tell you who my best friend was when the song was out.  I always felt like the lyrics were written just for me.  I would write in my diary parts of songs and analyze the lyrics.  There used to be a magazine that published the lyrics to songs that I would buy at National Record Mart and then highlight and underline the lyrics to songs that I found meaningful and significant. 

And I still do it today, evidenced by the lyrics I pop into my blogs on occasion.  I have a vast music collection rambling around in my head.

So, want to play a modern version of name that tune?  I warn you -- I play to win.

And as ABBA says, "The winner takes it all."