I'm Mr. Brightside

And I just can't look it's killing me
And taking control

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes

Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

I had one of the most bizarre dreams I've had in awhile this afternoon.

I had a beer while watching the Steelers game on TV and then started to get a headache so I decided to lie down for a little bit until the headache passed.  Had no intention of napping.  Especially not on a Sunday. But I fell asleep and slept deeply for over 2 hours.

In my dream, I am sitting at one of those cafeteria-style tables with built in benches in what looks like a school gymnasium or cafeteria.  There are four of us, spaced out at the table.  Two on one side.  Two on the other.

I'm wearing a full skirt and baby pink button down cardigan.  Very private school circa the 50s/60s.

I'm sitting across from a man whose face is blurred but he is built like young Elvis in the Viva Las Vegas video I posted on Facebook earlier.  Lean hips, tallish, slender build, wide shoulders, dark hair.

We're all taking a fill-in-the blank style test and there is a proctor walking around in the room.

The test, however, is all about VH1's Top 100 Songs of 00s.  100 questions.  Each one contains a missing word or two in the title or artist of a song.  Pretty easy. 

The guy across from me would make these "Score!" motions with his hands/arms as he completed questions.  I thought this was funny.  He'd whisper "Score!" and then make a cheering crowd sound.  The proctor would shush him.  We'd make (blurry) eye contact and I'd smile.

So, then as I was answering my questions, I'd hum parts of the songs as I was answering my questions.  The proctor kept shushing me.  The guy would chuckle then cough to cover up the chuckle.

I got to the last question and the question was:  100.  Mr. ___________ by The Killers.

I wrote in Brightside and then as loud as I could, I started singing the verse I pasted above:

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes

Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

The proctor rushed over to me.  I handed her my test and left the room.

I went to the restroom down the hall and then thought about just leaving, but then I looked down and realized I was in socks and that my shoes were back in the gymnasium.

As I got to the door of the gym, it opened and Mr. Tall, Dark and Assumedly Handsome was coming out and carrying my shoes.  He gave them to me and said, "Wanna get out of here for a little bit?"

We walked outside to a parking lot and got into this hybrid type sedan.

We started driving down Virginia Beach Blvd, toward Town Center.  Neither one of us were saying anything to each other.  I was watching the scenery pass by.  Then, something compelled me to reach for his right hand with my left hand.  They fit perfectly and he had the softest skin.  He squeezed my hand and kept staring straight ahead.  I smiled and looked out the passenger side window.

Then, all of sudden, he jerked his hand away and I felt totally rejected, but then I realized it was to shift gears. (Note to self:  do not date men with manual transmissions.)  I looked to the left and noticed we were now in the town where I grew up and I said to him, "Over there is where I grew up!"  We were on the street that runs parallel to my street, with a creek in between. "Really?" he said and he made a left turn over a bridge and as we were turning left onto my street, a deer darted in front of the car.  He stopped short and then we drove down the street.  I pointed out the trailer I grew up in, my grandparents' house, my grandfather's garage, my grandmother's store and then the shack that my brother lives in on occasion, when he's between women.

When we were at the end, he said, "That was a short street!"  I giggled thinking he was being funny.  He looked at me oddly.  "That's the name of the street.  Short Street," I explained.  Then, we both laughed and he kept on driving.  A few seconds later, we were back at the parking lot of the school.

I opened up the car door and accidentally hit him in the chest with it because I didn't realize he was being gentlemanly and coming around to open my door.  The car was no longer a car, though.  It was a teal-blue Ford Ranger truck. (Do they still make those?)

We went back into the cafeteria and took our original seats.

A few seconds later, a woman walks into the room from a door on the opposite side.  It was my boss from my day job.  She said, "Thanks for waiting!  I'm not going to have the test results today.  I got tied up making costumes for the Halloween pagent.  You can go ahead and go home."  Then, she left.

We walked back out to the parking lot.  I walked to my car.  It really was the car I drive now.  I blurted, "I'm going home and making pancakes!"  He said, "I love pancakes!"  Then, we sort of stood there and then he said "good night" and walked away.  His car was back to his hybrid type car.

As I drove away in my car, I said to myself, "I should have asked him over for pancakes."

Then, I woke up.

With a headache.  And craving pancakes.  And hearing "Mr. Brightside" in my head.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......   Like I posted on Facebook the other day -- if dreams are wishes the heart makes, then my heart is truly messed up.

Surprises Let Me Know You Care

All the small things
True care, truth brings
I'll take, one lift
Your ride, best trip

Always, I know
You'll be at my show
Watching, waiting
Commiserating

Say it ain't so
I will not go
Turn the lights off
Carry me home

Na, na, na

Late night, come home
Work sucks, I know
She left me roses by the stairs
Surprises let me know she cares

I've decided to take a stab at writing a book again.  Inspired by all of these blogs I've been writing.

But, I need your help.

I've been bouncing around the kind of book I want to write and my heart keeps going back to a romance so that I can maybe put some of my past fantasies, current dreams and future hopes on paper.  "He's Just That Not Into You" has already been done, so I'm going to try something upbeat and positive.  :)

However, I'm rusty in the romance department and to be honest, my ways of dealing with relationships and romance are not exactly the most traditional.  I'm not sure mainstream publishers would like a book where the woman does the pursuing and then says the hell with it and rents a stack of DVDs once she realizes the guy isn't interested. :)

So -- I hope you'll help me. 

An idea I've bounced around for awhile involves a young woman who sets a goal for herself to go out on 30 dates with 30 different men before settling down.  I'm thinking she will be a serial short-term relationship sort who dates men for a bit, "falls madly in love" with them while she is dating them and then is totally demolished when it is over.  It will be quirky and funny.  Chick lit over traditional romance.  

Then, one of her friends challenges her to just "date for awhile" and not fall in love with every man she meets.  She'll also be someone who has a "type" she typically goes for and her friends will encourage her to date "outside her type".  So, she sets a goal to date 30 men before getting serious about anyone again, whether it takes one month or one year.  Nothing serious until all 30 dates/30 men have been completed.

Of course, the twist will be that she will meet someone outside of the dating challenge who is interested in her but she isn't aware of it -- or she's so focused on her goal that she doesn't see it -- and he keeps trying to get her to see him as a potential.  

This is where I get a little... bumpy... in my outline.   What does he do?  How does he let her know?  Keep in mind that this is a romance novel which means that it can't be something so obvious as "Hey, I like you.  Screw those other men.  Date me!"  There has to be some subtlety to it, but something that not every other guy she knows (i.e. male friends) do.  I think I'm going to take the approach that she keeps thinking he's just joking and/or flirting.  Maybe have him be a recovering serial "serious dater" himself that she sees a lot of herself in and doesn't think he can commit long-term.  Maybe a neighbor, client or co-worker that she fears ruining their existing relationship if she even entertains the thought of dating him.

What are some ways you (if you aren't a male, pretend...) would let someone know you were interested without coming right out and letting them know?

You can respond by comment here, on my Facebook, by message on FB or you can email me.  I'd appreciate any help you can provide.

If you aren't single anymore, what worked for you?  How did you let someone know you were interested?  How did someone let you know they were interested?

Games People Play

Oh the games people play now
Every night and every day now
Never meaning what they say now
Never saying what they mean

Games People Play

I don't like to play "games" with people.  Emotional games. Mind games.

I grew up with a mother who loved to play mind games, emotional games.  It exhausted me.  Everything had an ulterior motive.  Nothing made her happy.  She was really good at making you feel guilty about not making her happy and she wasn't happy unless she was making other people miserable.  She would hint about things and never tell you outright what she wanted or was feeling or thinking until AFTER she was disappointed and hurt.

Birthdays, Mother's Day and Christmas were pure hell because you'd try to get her what she wanted but it was never exactly right.  She'd hint for weeks about a purse.  But, then whatever purse we bought wasn't THE purse she wanted. My dad would always tell her to just tell us what she wanted but then she'd get mad and tell us that if she had to tell us, it wasn't special or a surprise.  I dreaded her reactions to things.

Now, I send cards with cash and/or a gift card and then call her 5 minutes before one of her "shows" is about to come on so that I don't have to listen to her gripe for hours about what she did or didn't get.  I never get a thank you.  I always get to hear about what everyone else didn't do for her.  

She's a sad, miserable woman and I worry that I'll become her some day.

I don't believe in playing mind games.  I tend to be a pretty straight forward person.  If you ask me for ideas for what to get me for my birthday or Christmas, I'll give you some ideas.  Sure, I'd love to be surprised, too, and hope that you know me well enough by now to know what I do and don't like and what will please me.  If you ask me what I'm thinking or feeling, I'll tell you.  What you see is what you get. Sometimes, I'll tell you even if you didn't ask. :)

If you don't know me by now... (Hmmmmm, now I have that song stuck in my head... oh and this one too.)

However, there is something that I have caught myself doing that could push the envelope on game-playing.  I test people.  As in, I create situations to see how they react to gauge how well they know me or how well they are listening to me.  I just realized a few weeks ago that I do it.  I've noticed that I usually do it when my insecurities are surfacing or when I feel out of sorts about things or where I stand with people.

I'll tell a friend about a huge deadline, project or other important thing and then as that date nears, I wonder in the back of my head if they'll remember it and say something.  

You see, I'm the kind of person who remembers just about everything that people I care about tell me.  Sometimes, I pretend I'm not paying attention but the reality is that I have a memory like an elephant and can oftentimes recall word for word, entire conversations.  Right down to who was wearing what.  It's just this quirky Sheldon-esque thing I do. (Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory reference.)  

At my last job, I used to be called upon on many occasions to settle bets and clear up things that were and were not said during meetings or lunch.  I've been a good addition to many a trivia game.  Just today, my boss commented that she was amazed that I could recite entire passages from movies when she can barely remember what she wore on Monday. 

I digress.  Because I do pay attention to such minutia, I hope others are as keen and detail-oriented about me.  I make it a priority to check in on my friends and make sure that their deadlines, special projects and important things turned out fine, even if it makes them uncomfortable to talk about it.  I care.  I listen.

So, I don't know if it's because I've been feeling a little insecure about friendships lately... or lonely... or because there's just not enough drama in my life...  but I've been dropping little (and not so little) nuggets into conversations, IMs, emails, posts, my blog, phone calls, texts, etc about things going on in my life to see if people respond.  To see if people are paying attention.  To see if people give a f*ck.

I've been kind of disappointed, to be honest.

I know everyone is busy.  I know people are tired.  I know there are tons of other things going on in the world.  However, if I have to tell anyone one more time when my birthday is (especially after I've been counting down to it for over a month now) or when I leave for Vegas (again, I've been counting down), I may just scream.  

Remember how I posted about feeling invisible sometimes?  This isn't helping.

I think this is why I'd like to have someone read my mind.

It hurts.  And it makes me want to be less of a friend.

It also makes me look long and hard in the mirror and wonder how long until I start leaving Target ads lying around with purses circled, or coupons for Ponderosa on the kitchen table, or cut letters out of magazines and leave random notes in various places telling people what I want, how I feel, who I am.

Luckily, my doctor prescribed some nice white pills to calm me down if I ever feel like throwing a tantrum...

Now I'm going to bed.  No, you don't need to remember that.  I won't expect you to call me and tell me good night or offer to tuck me in.

You're off the hook.  For now.

If You Could Read My Mind

If I could read your mind love,
what a tale your thoughts could tell.
Just like a paperback novel,
the kind the drugstore sells.
When you reach the part where the heartaches
come the hero would be me.
Heroes often fail.
And you won't read that book again
because the endings just to hard to take.

Took a break from the part time job to talk to the friend going through the break up and she uttered words that every woman at some point in every relationship utters (no, not "put the toilet seat down!" -- or in my case, "Are you gay?").  She said, "I wish I was a mind reader!"   She then said that it would make things so much easier with dealing with the opposite sex if she could just read his mind and know what he was thinking.

So, of course, this made me do some thinking.  Yeah, yeah, I know I have a part time job's goals to satisfy.  I'm doing good.  I'm on target.  I only need to get in 48 more emails before midnight on Thursday.  I think I can do it.

Every now and then, I'll meet someone (both males and females) that I connect with and often joke that we have the same mind-set and could probably read each others' minds.  It's more of an intuitive thing than an actual psychic thing, but I have had moments of sentence finishing and "I just knew you were going to say that."  Sort of like when the phone rings and you know who it is before you look at caller ID or answer it.  Or, when you think of a song you haven't heard in awhile and it comes on the radio, at the precise moment you think about it.  Weird stuff.  I get these little feelings in my gut every now and then.  Prickly feelings on the back of my neck.  And there will be the person I was thinking about... or someone will come up to me and say something I was just thinking.  I LOVE moments like that.

I think it would be awesome to have selective mind reading.  And to have the ability to selectively block my thoughts as well.  (Without wearing a tin foil hat.)  There have been so many times in my life when I've been dealing with people and have hit a wall and wondered what they were thinking.  Both men and women.  It's very frustrating.  I couldn't get a read on them or feel out their vibes and they were not being very forthcoming with the words and feelings.  At moments like that, it would be great to tune in (without them blocking, of course) and figure out what the heck they were thinking.  Were they upset about something?  Were they worried about something?  Were they thinking about doing laundry or their taxes?  Were they making a mental to-do list?  Something, anything to help understand them better. Some people are very hard to understand.

On the flip side, there have been times when I didn't think people were getting what I was saying or trying to say.  I know I've sworn off of the "R" word ("romance") for now, but there have been times in the past when I think it would have been so incredibly useful to be able to allow others to read my mind.  Remember how I blogged about how I have a hard time telling men how I feel about them when I have romantic or "L" word ("love") feelings for them?  I know I must have thought it a gazillion times.  "I like you."  "I want you." "Call me." "Talk to me."  "Do you like me too?"  Remember how I blogged about wanting that safe Facebook app that allowed members of the opposite sex to let each other know without fear of rejection how they feel?  Mind reading would be great for that.

I could just mentally send the thought and then wait for a response.  Or, if I was too scared to hear the response, I could send the thought, then block my ability to receive thoughts and just have peace in knowing that I went out on a limb and sent my thought.  And then sit back and wait for awhile for a response.  And, if after awhile, when I felt braver, I could tap into his thoughts and hear the "I like you as a friend" or "I'm seeing someone" or "Damn, I forgot to buy lemons."

Of course, this could be kind of awkward or distracting to the other person, I'm sure.  Could you imagine standing in line at the grocery store and all of a sudden someone's voice filled your head "I think I love you" or "I want to break up" or "I worry about you" or "I'm gay"?

Still, at the end of the day, it could prove to be useful.  Helpful.  I'd take a stab at it for a bit.  It would help with figuring out what people want for their birthday, why they are acting all weird, if they need your help, if they are thinking naughty thoughts...  :)

I'm sending you a thought right now.  Did you get it?  No?

Damn.  Well, I tried.

For Love or Money

It's never enough to say I'm sorry
It's never enough to say I care
But I'm caught between what you wanted from me
And knowing if I give that to you I might just disappear

Nobody wins when everyone's losing

It's like one step forward and two steps back
No matter what I do you're always mad
And I, I can't change your mind

It's like trying to turn around on a one way street
I can't give you what you want
And it's killing me and I, I'm starting to see
Maybe we're not meant to be

Yesterday, one of my Facebook pages had a poll:  "True Love or $10 million.  Which would you choose?"

Without batting an eye, I chose the money.

I've been sitting here tonight, working on my part-time job, and realized that if the perfect man showed up at my door and someone from the lottery commission holding a check for $10 million, I'd have to tell the perfect man hasta la vista.

As much as I bellyache about wanting my soul mate, I realize I think I'd rather have the money more.  At least right now.

I talked to a friend earlier this evening for a few moments.  She's in the process of breaking up with someone and it isn't very clean.  It's actually very messy.  Do I want that?  Not on your life.  She keeps saying it would be less messy and easier if she had more money.

Of course, you may argue that it's a pessimistic approach to assume that the relationship will end messy.  Just like when I joke about finding my future ex-husband and man I'll share custody with some day.  Guess I'm waiting on someone to prove me wrong.

However, I keep thinking about money.  Most of my daydreams and fantasies deal with money.

With money, I could fill my life with things to keep me from thinking about wanting the soul mate.

With money, I could quit the part-time job and free up time to go out and meet people and do things that will keep me from dwelling on a soul mate.

Hell, with money, I could probably pay someone to be a reasonable facsimile of a soul mate if the urge hits me.

I don't know why I've been so aggressive and obsessive about my single status.  I was doing fine.. just fine... until this past spring when a few well-meaning friends started to plant the "it's time" seeds in my head.

It's time?  Time for what exactly?  Time to be misled?  Time to be disappointed?  Time to be put through the ringer?

No.  It's time for me to stop thinking about it.  It's time for me to focus on other things. 

Life is too short and ... well, if it's meant to be, it'll be.

I really could use $10 million.

Whatta Man

I wanna take a minute or two, and give much respect due
To the man that's made a difference in my world
And although most men are ho's he flows on the down low
Cuz I never heard about him with another girl
But I don't sweat it because it's just pathetic
To let it get me involved in that he said/she said crowd
I know that ain't nobody perfect, I give props to those who deserve it
And believe me y'all, he's worth it
So here's to the future cuz we got through the past
I finally found somebody that can make me laugh
(Ha ha ha) You so crazy
I think I wanna have your baby

I started the day with a headache and ended it with a marriage proposal of sorts.

It started out innocently enough.  A co-worker asked me what I wanted for my birthday and I jokingly said, "A boyfriend."  This was because she and another co-worker had been talking and joking about their boyfriends, how they met, etc.  I was a little jealous.  I've never had a boyfriend on my birthday.

The two co-workers made various suggestions - speed dating, eharmony, match.com, friends of friends.  I quickly rattled off "been there done that" responses and even shared a story of a recent attempt to ask out a friend of a friend who point-blank shot me down after months of leading me on.  Then, one of the co-workers started to name co-workers, who were for various reasons not good choices.  Married, too young, dating someone, old enough to be my dad, etc.  Then, the co-worker shared a "co-workers turned spouses" success story, which, although heart-warming, did not exactly inspire me to hook up with any of her suggestions.

It was funny for awhile, but it also was sort of uncomfortable, especially because one of her suggestions has this habit of cornering single young women in the office and making comments that could be inappropriate.  He reminds me of a friend's dad so I usually just laugh him off.  I know he's harmless.  However, I don't want someone to walk by and hear the joking and think I'm seriously interested in the man.  Awkward.  I spent a large part of my summer convincing other co-workers that I'm not chasing one of my single co-workers and that I'm not his type.

Then, I had a training class and the man my co-worker was suggesting as my soul mate was the sole attendee in the class.  Before I shut the door, he made a comment that people would talk about us being alone in the room.  I asked if he wanted me to keep the door open.  He laughed and made a comment that he enjoyed being alone with me.  Now, I love to flirt.  If he was about 30 years younger, I might be totally flattered and enamored by the attention.  I daydream about the man o' my dreams saying similar things to me.  Then, I dimmed the lights for my presentation and he ooohed and made a comment about being alone in the dark with me.  I laughed and closed my eyes and imagined it was someone who does push my buttons saying the things.

Towards the end of the training, he asked me why I had asked another co-worker to be my fake husband when he was available.  I explained to him that someone had called me about a contest and said I had to be married to claim my prize and that someone else volunteered the other co-worker to be my fake husband to claim the prize.  To this, he said, "I have two ex wives.  Do you want to be number 3?"  I laughed and since we had just talked about credit scores, I asked him what his credit score was and if he could get me a good rate on a mortgage.  I quickly changed the subject and went back to my office.

I shared the news with my co-worker whom said "There you go!  It's fate!"  (sigh)

So, I told my co-worker that he wasn't my type.  She seemed shocked that I have a type.

I know beggars shouldn't be choosers, but I do have a type.  And the guy she keeps teasing me about isn't that type.

She asked me what my type was but I decided that I should probably just keep my mouth shut because I knew exactly who she'd suggest once I told her what I do want in a guy, and I just can't open up that can of worms.

Ah, I think a serial killer who reads my blog and remains unfazed is probably going to be the best route.

It All Makes Scents...

The smell of your skin lingers on me now
You're probably on your flight back to your home town
I need some shelter of my own protection, baby
To be with myself and center
Clarity, peace, serenity

Someone passed by me today at the Neptune Festival wearing Eternity for Men.  I smelled it and recognized it instantly.  There is something about that scent that immediately puts me on notice.  A male friend used to wear it in college and that's how I first discovered it.  I don't know if it is a specific "note" in the cologne or what, but it totally puts my senses on high alert when I smell it.

Confession time:  I love love love the scent of a man.  

I know what you are thinking -- that opens all sorts of doors.  So, let me correct and clarify.  I love the scent of a crisp, clean man.  I don't care if it is deodorant, soap, shampoo, aftershave, fabric softener or just the smell of freshly pressed cotton, I love it.

There's a guy at work who delivers paper to the copiers and I look forward to his visits because he always smells so good.  I'm sure I've made him uncomfortable a couple of times because I've cornered him and told him that I like the smell of his aftershave.  Now, before you think I'm stalking some poor man at work, he's probably old enough to be my dad or uncle and absolutely loves the attention.  He's also happily married.

I like citrusy scents.  I don't like the heavy over-powering spicy stuff.  I like the stuff that smells "clean".  Subtle.  It invites you to get closer. I love when you are standing next to a guy and you can just smell the aftershave (or whatever) and want more, but know you can't have it.

I've blogged twice about my introduction into the pheromone oil that was allegedly supposed to drive men wild.  I IM'd a male friend about my experiment and my disappointment that hoards of men did not chase me down the street like in the movie Love Potion # 9 and he made a very astute comment that people are attracted to different scents.  I couldn't agree more.  I just hoped that the added bonus of the pheromone would help identify which males in this universe were attracted to my scent.  Apparently, none. 

Scent is a potent thing.  It's no wonder that Bath and Body Works and Yankee Candle are two of the highest selling companies in the USA.  I can't walk by BBW without buying something.  Right now, as I type this, I'm fresh from the shower, where I used their Orange Ginger body wash.  Then, I slathered on some of their "sleep" aromatherapy lotion which has lavender and chamomile.  Tomorrow, when I get ready for work, I'll spritz on some of their White Citrus body spray.  Earlier tonight, I burned my Island Spa candle from Yankee Candle.

For myself, I do not enjoy heavy floral scents.  Because of my allergies, I have a hard time finding perfumes and body sprays that do not put me in a funk.  I've noticed that many of the florals drive me crazy.  Freesia seems to be the only floral scent that I can tolerate.  And lavender.  For myself, I am also drawn to citrus based scents.

As I type this, I'm more aware of the scents around me.  Abby is curled up on the back of my chair, giving me sleepy eyes.  She has some stinky breath.  I tease her all the time about her stinky breath.  Some mornings, she wakes me up because she'll get right in my face and start licking my ears and nostrils and I'll smell her stinky breath.  But, I love her.  She doesn't stink otherwise.  I can smell the remnants of the pasta I made for dinner and the Island Spa candle I blew out about 30 minutes ago.  I can also smell the apple cinnamon airwick outlet warmer in the hallway.  The scent of my shower is lingering in the air, too.  My robe smells like Gain fabric softener and my skin smells like lavender.

There are so many scents that I enjoy:

Baby powder

Freshly cut grass

Oranges

Lemons

Cantaloupe

Berries

Gain laundry detergent

Downy fabric softener

Peaches

Pizza (oregano)

Rain hitting the dirt on a spring day

Hot chocolate

Apple pie

Cotton candy

Movie theater popcorn

Fresh baked bread

Cedar chips

Hot charcoal in a grill

Wood burning fireplaces

Krispy Kreme donuts

Bleach

Murphy's Oil Soap

Pledge

Dawn dish liquid

Mint of any sort

Eucalyptus

Vick's Vapo Rub

Icy Hot
Pine
Lumber (as in at Home Depot)
Spray paint
Nail polish remover
French milled soap
Ocean air
New Car
Candle wax
L'Occitane's Cherry Blossom lotion
Eternity (women and men)
Chocolate Chip Cookies

Ahhh, I'm sitting here conjuring up all sorts of happy memories about each of the above scents. 

I remember reading an article once, in COSMO or GLAMOUR, that said that most men like scents like vanilla and cookies.  I think there were a few men who also said they liked popcorn and cinnamon scents.

Go figure.  We spend hundreds of dollars on good stuff and all we really have to do is dab some vanilla behind our ears and bake some cookies.  

Hmmmm....   Maybe I should sign up for a cooking class after all.  One making desserts.

"What's that delightful smell?" he asks.

"Oh, you mean the vanilla cinnamon sugar cookies I just baked for you?"  I ask coyly and then invite him in for a movie marathon and freshly popped popcorn.

I wonder if the lotion the guy in Silence of the Lambs used was vanilla scented? 

I Wish...

Just wishing and hoping
and thinking and praying
and planning and dreaming
his kisses will start...
that won't get you into his heart...
so if you're thinking how great true love is
all you gotta do is...

During new hire training, we (well, most of us) like to do these little "get to know you" type games and ice breakers in order to break up the monotony of training and to get to know the trainees on a more personal level.

One of my favorite's is "three wishes" where we get to list what we'd wish for if a genie were to grant our three wishes.  

I have my token reply:

1. Financial Independence

2. My idea of the perfect body (for myself)

3. A soul mate

Sometimes I elaborate.  Sometimes I leave it at that and let the class discuss their dreams and fantasies, while I allow myself to daydream about the possibility of a genie actually showing up to grant my wishes.

Of course, in my daydreams, I'm greedy.  I want more than 3 wishes.  On the TV show I DREAM OF JEANNIE, the astronaut had unlimited wishes.  His genie was his to use however and whenever he wanted.  True, she was in love with him and that's probably why she didn't limit him, but... hey, it's my fantasy and in my fantasy, my genie grants me all of the wishes I want. 

So, I'm going to indulge.  If there's a genie reading this, message me.  I'll give you my address.  I promise that once my wishes are granted, my final wish will be to release you from servitude so that you can enjoy life as a mortal.  

1. Financial Independence.  I know I joke all the time about winning the lottery.  Big.  However, I don't know that I want the publicity and fame (and stalkers and weirdos) that come with a big lottery win.  I don't want the fame.  I just want the fortune. So, in my perfect genie world, I'd wish for all of my credit cards and other debts (i.e. car and personal loan) to be paid off.  Clean slate.  Then, I'd wish for a major cash infusion into my savings, retirement and checking accounts.  A nice healthy sum that if I needed to buy something, I could without scrimping and saving ... and budgeting for months.  Hmmm... maybe $500,000 into each account.  That's "small enough" to fly under the radar for vultures, but "big enough" that I could quit the part-time job and maybe even find a full-time job that is more in line with my personality and needs.

2. The perfect body for me.  I don't want to be a stick figure.  I like being a little different.  I don't find bony women attractive.  I like the look of curvy women.  So, I'd want curves.  I like my breasties.  Along with my eyes, I think they are a positive for me.  Guys who have had conversations with my boobies seem to agree.  But, I'm tired of being invisible.  It's amazing, actually.  As big as I am, I'm highly visible.  Yet, people look past me like they don't see me.   So, I'd ask my magic genie for a "head start" on regaining visibility.  Something closer to what the average woman weighs and wears.  A size I can buy in the regular department at any department store.  I'd want nice toned muscles.  I'd also love to reverse my nerve damage so that I can run, walk fast, dance and do all sorts of athletic things that require the full functionality of both legs again.  I'd also ask for longer, thicker hair. Maybe even perfect eyesight.  Nicer teeth?  Dunno.  Jewel's crooked smile doesn't turn off people so I guess mine is okay.  Growing up, I was jealous of all of the kids with perfect teeth, and hated my crooked gappy teeth. But, they are uniquely me.  Can you tell I want to be more average yet retain uniqueness?  :)

3. My soul mate.  Seems simple enough.  I've blogged for months and months about my soul mate. But, who is it really?  A long, long, long time ago, I saw a therapist after a break up and she had me list all of the things I wanted in my "dream man".  She did it to prove a point that the man I was having a hard time letting go of wasn't for me and ultimately, wasn't what I really wanted, down deep.  She told me to dream big.  I made up my list and carried it around in my purse for years.  Then, I decided that carrying around a wrinkled, torn, deteriorating wish list for a man was pretty pathetic and threw it away.  I always joke that my needs are simple, but considering I'm still single, maybe they aren't.  Someone who loves me for me, who respects me, who isn't afraid to share his feelings about me with me and who can be my friend.  My partner in crime. Funny.  Smart. Someone who rallies for me and who wants me to rally for him. Someone who thinks the things I have to say are interesting and amusing. My cheerleader. My hero. The male version of me. He also has to be great in bed... and if not "great", at least creative.  (Hey, I have needs.) 

I have a knack for being drawn to complicated men.  Men whom I hope I can "fix" or turn around with my charm, sense of humor, quirkiness, love and endless supply of gifts, trinkets, and home-cooked meals.  I also have a knack for being attracted to guys who always see me as the buddy type and who don't really have any serious interest in me other than to have someone to talk to when their male friends are busy or when their girlfriends/wives "just don't understand".  Oh, and the gay man.  I have also been known to be attracted to gay men.  It goes back as far as George Michael in college. :)  The therapist had a theory.  I purposely go after men I can't have because it's safer than going after guys I can have.  Really?  You think?

OK, so those are the three "basic" wishes.  But, this is my blog.  My world.  My fantasy.  I get more than 3.

4.  To be "discovered" and offered a syndicated writing gig, writing a weekly or monthly column similar to the crap I write in my blog.  A real girl's voice of reason or something like that.  "The Guinea Pig Diaries".  Where I go out and try various things and then blog about it.  Speed dating, singles cruises, matchmaking, new trends, new restaurants, dance clubs, "As Seen On TV" gadgets and gizmos, diets, exercise programs, travel spots.  You name it, I try it.  Within reason.  Nothing gross, humiliating or painful.  I won't eat bugs.  I won't bedazzle my vajayjay. 

5. To break out of the "girl next door" role.  I know this is my own fault.  I know that I don't dress sexy.  I don't play games.  I don't gush and coo and make men feel like they are the big bad strong guys who need to help save defenseless little ole me.  Maybe I should?  I've seen strong, intelligent women act like total morons to get guys to help them.  I get mad at myself if I have to ask a male friend to show me again how to resize the image on the smartboard in our training room.  I don't do dumb well.   Hmmm... had a thought while I was typing...  if this is my wish and my genie, f*ck it.  I wish that my "girl next door meets guy next door" type of personality is stunningly sexy to most guys.  Move over Fergie.  I'm Bevilicious and I'm taking over.  My habit of making the most common conversations into something suggestive?  SEXY.  My sarcasm?  SEXY.  My comfy clothing and ugly sandals?  SEXY.  My straight-forward no nonsense approach? SEXY My desire to talk about random sh*t, quote songs and movies? SEXY SEXY. My fondness for wimpy balladeers and "kill myself" music? OK.. I won't make that SEXY.  But, I'd also like to meet a guy who has an open mind.  I will sing and quote Jason Mraz, Jack Johnson, and Bruno Mars.  I will not be ashamed of it.

6. To have a more active social life.  I used to have one.  I miss it.  I want to have opportunities to go out more often.  I want to have to consult my calendar to see if I'm available instead of already knowing that my weekend is wide open.  I want the option to pick and choose what I want to do, if anything.  I want more friends that I can call up and say, "Hey, there's a dueling piano bar in Hampton, let's go tomorrow night." and have them say yes.  More adventurous friends.  Friends who can travel with me and go on cruises with me.  Friends who don't think Vegas and Atlantic City are tacky.  Friends who will go to sappy balladeer concerts and broadway-type shows.  Male and female friends.  I have great friends.  I love my friends.  I just want more of them.  More accessible friends who call me to do things and ask me to do things. I also want more "close friends".  Friends who will check on me when I'm sick.  Friends who want to just hang out.  Friends who can sense when I need a shoulder, good laugh or vent about something. Friends who "need" me for the same things.  I like to be needed.  I need to be needed. (Now, try to get that Cheap Trick song out of your head.)

7. To write a novel and have it published by a real honest to goodness publishing company.  A romance?  A mystery?  Not really sure what but something.  Something I can see on a bookstore's shelf before bookstores go the way of the dinosaur.  I want to have book signings and dedicate the book to my friends who have supported my writing.

8.  To find a job I thoroughly enjoy ... or to start my own home-based business where I'm the boss and can set my own hours and duties.  Something fun and inspiring and creative.  Something with fun co-workers and time to goof off.  Something that does not suck the spirit out of me.  Flexible hours.  No evenings or weekends.  Meaningful.  Satisfying.  Preferably close enough to the beach to be able to take my lunch outside and sit on a bench and watch the water while I eat.

9. For LOST to come back.  OK, I know that's a pretty lame wish, but I really do miss that show.  And discussing it.  I haven't been able to find a suitable substitute since it ended.  Oh, I need to update my soul mate criteria to include a fondness for LOST and the ability to recite the numbers.  (The Numbers are baaaaaaaaaad.)

10. A brief and satisfying "lucky streak".   I love to buy lottery tickets and scratchers because there's that small glimmer of hope that I'll win something.  I still don't want the fame and attention that comes with a big win, but I'd love to have a bunch of small wins.  Maybe two solid weeks of winning.  (WINNING!)  Bingo, scratchers, Vegas slots, Atlantic City slots...  sweepstakes, drawings, 50/50 raffles.   Nothing so big that it draws attention, but nice little boosts that satisfy my desire to experience what it feels like to win something.  Pocket cash. Rainy day money.  Fun funds.

and lastly,

11. To be super motivated to do things that I need to do.  Lately, I've been sort of distracted and have a hard time making myself do things.  I can't focus on my PT job.  I should be doing it right now, but here I am, watching the 2nd hour of TERRA NOVA and blogging.  I signed up for bellydancing classes but then didn't go back to pay for them and now the class is full.  I used to go to the pool every Saturday for exercise but I haven't gone for over a month because it's cold when I get out of the pool and I hate trying to get dressed when I have goosebumps all over my body.  I need more exercise.  I need to eat healthier.  I need to stop procrastinating.  So, I'd like to have more energy and motivation.  Even some willpower.   Nothing super outrageous.  I want to still have the option to sleep in on rainy mornings and watch movies all day in my nightgown if I want to.  I just want that extra oomph that I need to make the right decision when it comes down to "healthy versus unhealthy" decisions.  Like, going to the gym BEFORE taking a nap.  Or, eating the salad BEFORE I eat the slice of warm apple pie.  Or, doing work BEFORE screwing around on Facebook in the Doubledown Casino, where I'm 22 million dollars in the hole, or trying to think of witty things to post to see how many responses I can get.  I love the attention and knowing that people are amused enough to comment.  Lately, that hasn't been happening.  Don't know if people are sick of me -- or if all of the changes to Facebook has made me invisible there too.

Ah....  it's fun to wish.  I love to daydream.  Now, where's my genie, darn it?

A friend gave me a metal lantern from a trip to Vegas a few years back -- when the Aladdin was still there -- and every now and then, I rub it, hoping for a puff of smoke and a genie to appear.

I know it's odd, but... well, it's like buying those scratchers.  You just never know what might happen.  Gotta play to win.

Gotta rub it to make things happen.  This applies to many things, actually.  ;)

Baby Mine

Baby, baby, I'm taken with the notion
To love you with the sweetest of devotion
Baby, baby, my tender love will flow from
The bluest sky to the deepest ocean
Stop for a minute
Baby, I'm so glad you're mine, yeah
You're mine

I've been thinking a lot lately about having a baby.  

The past three nights, I've had dreams about having one.  In one dream, I was attending a baby shower and realized it was for me.  I wasn't pregnant in the dream, however.  Then, in another, I was stuck in traffic, and I kept calling someone asking how my baby was doing and apologizing for being late.   Then, last night, I had a dream I was working in this uber modern office building and my boss asked me to work late and I told him I couldn't work late because I had a baby at home waiting for me.

When I was a little girl, I never really fantasized about being mommy.  I didn't enjoy playing with baby dolls or playing house.   As I grew up, I can't say that I really wanted to have kids.  I think part of it stems from the fact that my mom and dad were always hounding me about getting married and having kids, so my indirect act of rebellion was to avoid both like the plague.  Not that I was getting offers for either.

After college, I worked in a day care center for awhile.  I enjoyed the kids but at the end of the day, I couldn't wait to get home.  The babies terrified me.  So tiny.  So fragile.  So... stinky.  I always reeked of baby formula and could not change a diaper without gagging.  I used to stuff cotton balls spritzed with perfume up my nose when I had to change a diaper.  I also did not do well with baby vomit.  Everyone would laugh at me and say, "Oh, when it's your own kid, you don't notice so much."  Really? 

During this time, however, I used to fantasize a lot about getting married and having kids.  I wanted to be the "stay at home" mom type.  I didn't want to work *and* be a mom.  I wanted to be the classroom mom who baked cookies and went on field trips.  I wanted to play with my kids and be there when they got off of the school bus. I wanted to be, as corny and anti-modern woman as it sounds, a June Cleaver type. Santa Claus. Easter Bunny. Tooth Fairy. Helping with homework. Birthday parties. Halloween costumes. Disney movies.

When I'd meet a man, I'd size him up as "daddy" material and wonder if he was someone I could share custody with some day.  Sadly, none of the men I met ever really stood out as "daddy" types.  I think I purposely gravitated towards men who would not be someone I'd procreate with so that it wouldn't be a temptation some day.

Then, I shifted my focus to my career and decided that babies just were not for me.  I convinced myself that babies were not for me.  I remember seeing a doctor once and hoping that she would tell me that having children wasn't in the stars for me because of health issues I was having, but she gave me a clean bill of health. 

I've done a pretty good job of convincing myself that babies aren't for me.

However, lately, I've been thinking more and more about the fact that I have no one to carry on my heritage.  No smart little chubby faced lookalikes to be the class clown or the class geek or the class dork.  No one to take care of me when I get old.  

I'm in no position to have kids.  I can barely afford to take care of myself most days and having a cat is about all of the responsibility I can handle.  I know I wouldn't be able to work and take care of kids.  I'm not dating or even actively trying to date. I don't go places where I can meet men.  I don't want to go all turkey baster and I don't have the money for that.  I'd never trick a one-night-stand into that (too much like an old Heart song).

But, I think about it.  A lot.  I worry that my one regret when I get older will be that I didn't have a kid.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

Can we pretend that Airplanes
In the midnight sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now) (wish right now)
Can we pretend that Airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now) (wish right now)

The other night, while getting ready for bed, I caught part of new tv show about the glamour and luxury of air travel in the 60s.  I believe the show is called Pan Am.  It made flying look exciting and fun, an adventure.  Not stressful at all.  Everyone looked like they had first class treatment and no one was worried that a terrorist was going to plunge them thousands of miles into a building or empty cornfield.

I took my first flight when I was 20.  I went with my college roommate to Atlanta for a long weekend visit with her father and his new wife. I was so nervous about the flight.   

The airport near our college was very small.  No major flights and all of the planes were small and the kind that you have to walk across the tarmac to board.  We had to use it to get to another airport, where we then boarded a real plane, a jet, to fly to Atlanta.  The airport was large and I remember gawking at everything like a little kid in a candy store.  

These were the days when people could actually wait at the gate with their loved ones.  I remember spinning stories in my head about the people waiting on people and waiting with people.  I felt a little mushy about the couples holding hands and telling each other "I'm going to miss you".  I remember thinking that some day, I'd take a trip some place and someone would take me to the airport and stand there and watch my plane leave, thinking to himself how much he was going to miss me while I was gone.  Sadly, terrorism and increased security at airports have taken that dream away from me.

Once we boarded the plane, I was in awe of everything there as well.  I know I must have looked like a major dork, getting excited about the littlest things like the "skymall" magazines, barf bags, laminated emergency instruction card and hot meal we were served.  23 years later and I can still remember it.  A salad, corn chowder soup, sandwich and apple.  I loved the little plastic tray it came on and I think I even smuggled the napkin imprinted with the airline's logo into my purse as a souvenir, along with the little foil pouch of nuts. 

I didn't get sick.  I think I was too excited to get sick.  I watched the stewardess (yes, she was still called a stewardess then) go over the in-flight instructions and silently memorized what she was saying, thinking to myself that if my college education didn't pan out, I could become a stewardess and travel the world and do exciting things.  I had this thing for pilots back then and used to fantasize about cockpit (cough) fun.

I think I can credit the trip to Atlanta for creating the travel lust inside of me.  While there, we went to Stone Mountain and Buckhead and a variety of other places.  We had beignets and cafe au lait at this New Orleans style cafe, filled with attractive yuppie types on lunch breaks.  We visited her step mother at the huge hospital she worked in and had lunch in the cafeteria filled with doctors and nurses.  I allowed my mind to indulge in some "General Hospital" type fantasies. 

After college, I landed a job as a child care consultant which gave me the opportunity to travel by car and by plane to several places.  I got to go to Philadelphia and San Francisco on the company dime.  I loved the flight to San Francisco because we got to have an in-flight movie and alcohol on the plane.  During this time, I also made some wonderful on-line friends and got to travel to L.A., Des Moines and New York to visit them.

I became quite the experienced traveler.  I knew how to efficiently pack a suitcase and learned all of the ins and outs of navigating the airports and parking garages.  I knew which shuttles were the best and which airports were nicer than others.  I set a goal for myself to see at least one major city for each letter of the alphabet before I died. 

After I moved to Columbus, I headed to Iowa and New York again.  I also got to go to Vegas twice.  I really loved America West airlines.  I'm sad that they went belly up.  They were my favorite.

I eventually added several trips to Virginia Beach and remember the first time I flew over the water and looked down and saw the beach.  I thought to myself, "I want to live there some day."

Since moving here, I haven't done much traveling. I have gone to Baltimore a few times for work by plane but have not gotten on a plane for recreational purposes in over 4 years.  I've taken car trips and bus trips, but no plane trips for fun.

This year, I correct that. I'm taking a real vacation this year. To Las Vegas.  I leave on the 14th of October and get back after midnight on the 18th.  I have a direct flight. I'm hoping that means an in-flight movie, adult beverages and possibly hot meal.  I'm flying Southwest and I bought two seats so that I don't have to worry about who sits beside me and if I'm going to be forced to play nice with a total stranger for 5 hours.  I used to fantasize about meeting the man o' my dreams on a plane trip, but now I just like having peace and quiet for the duration of my flight.  A little rest. A good book. Maybe some music. My thoughts and daydreams.

I kind of wish airline travel was still glamorous and luxurious like it was on the tv show I saw part of, instead of hectic, harried and overshadowed by security precautions.  I wish the seats were generous and leg room ample.  I wish I didn't get hit in the head by people trying to shove everything they own into overhead bins because they don't want to pay for a checked bag. I wish a snack didn't cost an arm and a leg.  I wish every seat could be a "first class" experience.

One of my favorite movies is LOVE ACTUALLY.  I love the movie for a variety of mushy romantic reasons but one of my favorite scenes in the movie is at the beginning when they show all of these people at the airport, greeting each other, hugging, kissing and being happy to see each other.

The airport is a fantastic place for someone like me, who can just sit and people watch and spin tales in my head about possibilities.

If the inventors of yesterday hadn't seen the excitement in possibilities, we may never have gotten to fly.

---------------------

So, if you've read this far, you are probably wondering, "Where are those questions I have to answer?"

Yes, this is the 100th blog of 2011.  Thank you for patiently following along and playing along as I've divulged way more information than any one person should probably ever divulge.  

Here are your questions:

1)  Name two things on my "bucket list" (other than the recent Jason Mraz concert.) Hint: The title of the blog is a Billy Joel song.

2)  What was the one thing I wanted most as a little girl, in my "50 random things" post?  The # 50 is in the title of the blog.

3) What is my favorite psycho pick up line? Hmm... the name of the blog says it all.

4) What two songs do I reference in the body of my blog from early July about my "pretend boyfriend" dream? The title of the blog is a line from a Michael Jackson song, Billie Jean.

5) Which meal do I want someone to make for me every day when I win the lottery?  Do you really want to use a life line?

Good luck!!!  Thanks for reading!