Reggie’s Dating Advice

Reggie & Jules, 2013

Reggie & Jules, 2013

“I’m talking to 3 guys from Match.  They answer my questions, but don’t keep the conversation going.  It’s frustrating,” I texted to Reggie.  He’s in Chicago and I’m in Dallas, but we talk or text nearly every day.  He’s my bestest friend in the whole wide world; even if he does think that I’m a little bonkers.

“Talk to them,” Reggie texted back.

“May have to,” I replied.

“If there are more than 3 emails, I would rather talk,” Reggie typed.

“Noah asked me what day I was free, but he won’t commit until he sees how work goes this week.  I hate people who won’t plan!” I texted.  Noah is the guy that I’ve been texting for over 2 weeks now, but have not yet met in person.

“Workaholic,” Reggie replied.

I’ve dated workaholics before.  One of the Mikes definitely fell into that category.  He lived 5 minutes from my house and I didn’t see him for 2 weeks straight.  I begged him to bring his laundry over, so that we can see each other while it was running.  When he said, “No,” I knew that our relationship was over.  I mean, I’d folded his laundry before; when you date someone for 2 years, you do stuff like that.  But after 2 years, he wouldn’t drive 5 minutes to see me because he was spending all his time at work.  Ya, that relationship was over.

I dodged the question by getting back to his comment about calling the guys.  “I would rather meet in person.  For me, nonverbal clues tell me more than words.”  Kinda funny to hear from a blogger, right?

“Cannot plan if work takes up that many hours,” Reggie responded.

Ok, so he wasn’t going to let the workaholic thing go.  I texted, “Right!  He didn’t work this past weekend (he said), but nor did he ask me out.”

“True.  The phone call is to see if you like their personality.  Then meet them,” Reggie explained.

I wrinkled my nose.  I don’t like talking on the phone; I can’t tell when the other person is about to say something, or what they really think about what I just said.  It also hurts my ear to have a receiver pressed to it for too long.

However, Reggie did have a point; I might not want to meet the guy after I talk to him on the phone.  Could save me the trouble of meeting them.  But what if they’re just really bad on the phone, but awesome in person?

Reggie added, “Don’t over think it.”

Damn it, he knows me too well!

Reggie continued, “You pick a time that you want to meet and say you are free between this time and this time for an hour.”

“I’m not overthinking.  Overthinking would be wondering if he was with another and keeping me as Plan B,” I responded.  He didn’t need to know that I had been overthinking in a different direction.

“So what?” Reggie texted.

I continued, answering his previous text, “I told him Wednesday night.  I’m seriously busy the other nights.  Tomorrow, I’m meeting a guy and hope to sell the car.  Gala will be here on Thursday night and I take her back to the airport on Friday.  Saturday we’ll be in Austin, weather permitting.”

Then I thought about his So What. “I don’t want to be Plan B.”

Reggie said, “You make him Plan B or your preferred plan.”  Reggie meant that I can make him Plan A or Plan B; it’s my choice.  “But if he doesn’t commit by Tuesday, you are going with another guy.”

“I like it!” I answered.  Instead of giving Noah the power to make me Plan B or make me wait until the last minute to tell me if he’ll take me out, I’m taking the power back.  He has a deadline.  If he doesn’t get back to me soon, he’ll be SOL.  That’s an acronym which stands for, “Shit out of Luck.”

“That is the way I look at it.  Until things get serious, he is simply a plan that is implemented if convenient.  If I talk to a number of girls, there is always one I prefer.  But if she isn’t available, I go down the list based on my interest in them or an activity I want to do, i.e. go for coffee or play miniature golf.  Miniature golf wins almost every time.  Coffee wins if I have free time before meeting a friend to do something else.”

I was laughing.  One, Reggie doesn’t drink coffee.  The one time that I convinced him to go into a Starbucks, he bought a non-caffeinated frozen concoction.  Two, this text made him sound like a serious player.  Which he is not.  He hasn’t had a date in over a month and I can’t remember the last time that he got —uh—more than kissed.  But his point was well taken: don’t count on the guy.  If I want to do something, find someone else.  If we get together, great.  If not, shrug, there are other people to hang out with.

“Makes sense,” I texted, “Might not get to meet anyone this week; weather looks dangerous up to Saturday.”

“I figure I can always get a friend out of it.  So even if she (my date) is not dating material, if she seems cool, I will meet her,” Reggie said.  He meant it, too.  He had kept in touch with more than one woman that he had met on Match, even though they had agreed not to date.

“I miss sex,” I told him.

“So do I, but I don’t miss the stress of all the crap that comes with it,” Reggie texted.

I laughed.  So true!  After sex, I have decide whether to go or stay (or if he’s at my house, kick him out or let him stay); whether this means that I’m in a relationship; etc.

I texted, “True.  You are very insightful this evening.”

“I blame the pizza,” he answered.

I laughed again.  He was in rare form!

He continued, “Dating is like animals hunting.  Go for the slow and weak ones that you separate from the herd if you want to eat.  Because the athletic alert ones are super hard to catch.”

“You’re a nut tonight!” I told him.

“Big girls need love, too,” he replied.

On that note…

Cheers!

Match.com Rerun

Destin, FL, August 2014

Destin, FL, August 2014

“I love that pic!” Feverof103 commented on one of my pictures on Match.com.  I snorted; his username exclaimed, “I’m hot!”  That’s a little presumptuous!

I glanced at his profile.  It started off with, “I hope someday my future wife will read this and think, ‘Wow, that’s a great first sentence.’”  That’s certainly original, but tells me nothing at all about him.  The rest of the profile was typical: likes to travel (doesn’t everyone?), enjoys cycling, etc.  I clicked on the pictures, and thought, He looks familiar. His son looks familiar…WAIT A MINUTE!!  That’s TIM!

We had met on OK Cupid (another dating website) and had gone out two years ago.

2013

After the usual messages back and forth online, we switched to texting.  One day, he texted me a bizarre video of his 8-year-old son washing his hair with dishwashing soap at the dining room table and rinsing it with a glass of water.  In the video, he was berating his son (“I told you not to do this!”) and the boy was crying.  I didn’t know how to react.  I texted, “Uh, it’s kinda funny, but I would hate to laugh when you’re so angry.  Can he take the dishwashing soap to the shower and use it there?”

He had replied, “We intended it to be funny.  I wanted him to rinse his hair with milk, but he wouldn’t do it.”

Huh?  I really didn’t know how to respond to that.  I didn’t get it.

Other than the video, Tim seemed like a pretty normal guy.  He was 5’8”, blonde, and fit.  I agreed to meet him at a Greek restaurant for our first date.

I arrived at 5:45 p.m. for our 6 p.m. rendezvous.  I like to be early; I think that shows respect for the person that you’re meeting.  I waited by the door, keeping an eye out for him.  At 6:10, I texted him, “Waiting by the door.  Are you here?”

Tim texted back, “We’re meeting at 6:30.”

I scrolled up to our text messages from the day before.  There it was, in black and white, where he had texted, “See you at 6:00.”

I texted him, “The text from yesterday says 6:00.”

He called me, saying, “I thought it was 6:30.  Can you wait there?  I’m running a little late – 5 or 10 minutes at most.  I can’t get there any sooner.  Is that ok?”

I considered my options.  I had already waited 25 minutes for this guy; he wanted me to wait 20 more minutes.  We could reschedule for another night.  But I was already here, and I was hungry, so I told him, “Ok, drive safe.  See you soon.”

I ordered a Greek coffee.  It was disgusting.  Turkish coffee is the same way: very strong, very bitter.  I prefer café au lait with honey.  I returned it to the server, feeling guilty for standing in her entryway for so long without purchasing anything.

Tim finally arrived.  He was older and heavier than his pictures.  I forced a smile as he looked me up and down.  “Your pictures didn’t do you justice,” he told me.

I gritted my teeth.  I couldn’t return the compliment, so I simply said, “Thank you.”

His eyes were dilated.  He slurred his words a little.  OMG he’s drunk.  During the course of the conversation, he admitted to having “a glass or two” before coming out.  He had brought a bottle of wine (the restaurant was BYOB) and then proceed to drink most of it.

Dinner was excellent.  I wish I could say the same of my company.

“My son got A/B Honor Roll.  I need to decide where to take him to eat to celebrate,” Tim said.  “I think we’ll go to the sports bar near my house, so that we can watch the game while we eat.”

“Shouldn’t you let him decide where you go?” I asked.

He gave me a nasty look, as if by reflex.  I sensed this was something that his ex-wife might say to him.  After a minute, he relaxed and changed the subject.

Tim said, “Do you want to go get a drink?  There’s a bar across the street.  I’d like to get to know you better.”  The way his eyes moved over me, made me want to run.

“I’d better be getting home,” I said.  “Are you ok to drive?”  He had drank 60 to 70% of the bottle of wine, on top of being tipsy when he arrived.

“Oh, sure, I’m fine,” he said, waving me off.

That was our first date.  And our last.  I can handle someone being late, but being late without apologizing is inexcusable.  Showing up tipsy is a big no-no.  Giving me a dirty look for suggesting that he ask his son what he wants – well, let’s just say, we’re done here.

2015

His pictures on Match were the same pictures that I’d seen on OKC two years ago.  I know because his son literally had not aged a day; that was the same 8-year-old boy that had been in the video.  He still had the old picture of him dressed in cycling gear, standing next to a bike, too.  I can’t believe this guy!  That picture was old when I met him 2 years ago!

For the record, my pictures are all from the past year.  Maybe he would have recognized me if he had been sober when we met.

Cheers!

CoCo Gets Kidnapped

CoCo Truffles

CoCo Truffles

The night was cold, about 20 degrees, so CoCo zipped her leather jacket up to the top then pedaled her red 10-speed bike down the street.  CoCo Truffle was on leave from the Army and her parents were out of town on New Year’s Eve 1989.  She was nineteen years old, and she was fearless.

She was also a heck of a dart player.  In Slidell, Louisiana, there weren’t too many choices of where to drink, so she went down to the local pool hall.  She was throwing darts at the board when he approached.

“Hey, you’re pretty good,” he said.

“Thanks,” CoCo answered, glancing at him.  He was about 5’10” tall with blonde hair.  She estimated his age at 25, give or take, so a little older than her but not too much.  “Does your girlfriend want to play?”

An older woman—maybe 35 years old—had come in with him, and now sat sipping a beer and watching them.  She wasn’t very attractive; a little extra weight and dark frizzy hair made her seem menacing in the dim bar.

He laughed.  “That’s my sister, Alice.  I’m Billy, by the way.”  He smiled a dazzling smile.

CoCo turned toward him.  He was cute.  “I’m CoCo,” she said.  “I’m drinking jack and coke.  The next round is on you.” She smiled and handed him the darts.

The next few hours were spent drinking and flirting.  Alice joined them, and she wasn’t really so bad, once you got past her apperance.  The drinks kept coming and they played some darts.  Midnight came and went without much fanfare.

“Last call!” the bartender said.

CoCo frowned.  She was having fun; she hated to call it a night.

Alice asked, “You ok to drive?”

CoCo laughed.  “I couldn’t get drunk if I wanted to!  My metabolism is too high or something.”  She shrugged.  She didn’t even feel tipsy, which was a shame after all that money Billy spent on drinks.  “I’m just not looking forward to going out in the cold on my bike, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you let me drive you home?” she offered.  “We can put your bike in the trunk.  Right, Billy?”

Billy stumbled up to the table.  He swayed as he stood there, his eyes drooping.  “Sure thing!” he said enthusiastically.  He made a thumbs up, poking it up in the air so quickly that he almost fell over.  CoCo and Alice laughed.

“Ok, if you’re sure you don’t mind,” CoCo said, smiling.

In the back of the car, she said, “Turn left on Main Street, drive to Cutter Road, then turn right.” Then she leaned back and closed her eyes—just for a minute, she told herself—and fell asleep.

The car stopped and she woke up.  They were in the woods, with the headlights illuminating a beat-up trailer.  It looked like the type of place that hunters use to escape the cold: a shelter, but not inhabited.

“Why are we here?” CoCo asked, suddenly wide awake.

“I need to get some money from a friend,” Billy said.  “Come on inside and get warm.”

CoCo considered her options, and realized that she was freezing.  “Ok,” she said.  She got out and started walking toward the trailer with Billy.  Alice drove off.

“What the hell?!  She has my bike!  HEY!  Come back!” CoCo said, running after the car.  Alice didn’t even slow down.

“Hey, calm down, she’ll be back.  Come inside, get warm,” Billy slurred, still swaying a little, repeating himself.

CoCo didn’t have many options, so she went inside.  It was as bad inside as out: filthy, cold, and dark.  Billy pulled her to him and started kissing her.  Mmm, he kissed pretty good.  She started to relax, and leaned into him.

He pulled her toward the bed.  She stiffened up and pushed him away.  “Time for me to go,” she said.

“Bitch!  You owe me!  I bought you drinks,” he said, spitting as he yelled.  He reached for her arms.

CoCo punched him.  Dazed, he blinked for a minute, then reached for her again.

She kneed him in the groin.  Hard.  He went down, and he didn’t get back up.  CoCo made sure that he was still breathing then went outside.

The woods were dark.  She didn’t have a flashlight and didn’t know where she was.  She sat down on the steps to wait for daybreak.  She berated herself for falling asleep as she shivered in the darkness.

The next morning, Alice showed up.  Billy stumbled out of the trailer, eyes barely open, shuffling and moving slowly.  CoCo smirked; he was definitely moving as if he had a bruise between his legs.  Serves him right! she thought.

“Take me back to the bar,” CoCo demanded.  She didn’t want these creeps to know where she lived.

Not much was said on the drive back.  Alice turned on an old country station.  CoCo huddled against the door and stared intently out the window, looking for signs or landmarks to tell her where they were.  Before long she saw, “Welcome to Pearl River!”

Oh. My. God.  We’re in Mississippi!  They drove me across the state line!  The ride back to the bar took over three hours.  CoCo was cold the entire ride, but not entirely from the weather.  Did they slip something into my drink to make me pass out?  I didn’t think that I slept that long in the car last night – but I must have.

When they arrived at the bar, CoCo opened the door almost before the car stopped moving.  She slammed the door and jerked her bike out of the trunk, moving as quickly as she could.  They had brought her back, sure, but they might change their minds.

Throwing the wheels to the ground, CoCo hopped on the bike and pedaled as quickly as she could.  Shit.  I can’t go straight home; they might follow me.  Instead, she went in the opposite direction.  She heard the car following her.  She turned right.  Still, the car was crawling behind her.  Staring to panic, she wondered what she’d do if they kept following her.  I can’t pedal forever.  Her heart beat faster and her breath made visible clouds in the cold air.  She turned another corner, and the car sped up and went straight.  She let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Finally, she arrived home.  She opened the door with shaking hands and ran to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes as she went.  She couldn’t get the shower hot enough or scrub hard enough.  Her toes were numb with frostbite.

She threw up, on and off for the next couple of hours.  She had drank as much alcohol on other occasions and had never gotten that sick.  They MUST have put something in my drink, she thought.  Finally, she heard her parents’ car in the driveway.  She made the decision not to tell them.  I’m home safe.  No one needs to know.  They’d just worry about me every time I left the house.  She shuddered.

CoCo still has circulation issues in her toes.  It wasn’t until years later that she thought that Billy and Alice might have kidnapped other women.  Maybe, just maybe, she hit him hard enough in the groin that he couldn’t hurt other women.  One can hope.

This is a true story, as told to me by CoCo (not her real name).  It’s not my usual light, funny dating story, but it’s one that I felt compelled to share.  Aries (Match.com Part 4) wanted me to get in his car so that he could drive me to my car, which was parked much further out.  I refused and he was offended.  Maybe he doesn’t realize that women do get kidnapped.  Maybe he doesn’t know that every time I go out on a date, I watch to ensure that nothing is slipped into my drink.  I finish my drinks before I go to the restroom, so that I don’t have to wonder.  Stories like this one validate my paranoia.  No, not “paranoia”—Safety Precautions.  ; – )

Jules’ Rules

  1. Meet in a public place.
  2. Drive yourself there, and drive yourself home.
  3. Do not get into a strangers car for any reason, even if it’s cold, and even if he’s just driving you to your car on the other side of the parking lot.
  4. Keep your drink in sight at all time. Take it from the bartender or waitress.
  5. If they mess with you, knee ‘em in groin.   Put ‘em on the ground!
  6. Don’t mess with ANYONE from the US military! She looked small and cute, but she’s a SOLDIER!  Hurrah!

Stay safe, my friends!

Cheers!

Ruby: Saying Goodbye to the Family Pet

Ruby_2014

“Jack, this is your first car. I’ll drive it until you’re ready for it,” I said to the eight-year-old standing beside me. “What should we name her?”

“Ruby!” Jack answered.

“Wow, that’s so sweet!” I said, thinking that he remembered my birthstone. “She’s red like a ruby, so yes, that’s a great name!”

“She looks just like the prize in my video game. It’s a big gem, like a diamond,” he explained to me.

So much for remembering my birthstone.

That was in January 2002. For eight years, I drove that car, reminding Jack that it was his. When we had a fender bender in 2004, I apologized to him for damaging his car. To make amends, I bought him a plastic penguin bobble head for the dashboard. Which promptly melted in the Texas summer sun. It’s the thought that counts, right?

When he was 16, I said, “Ready to learn how to drive?”

“No,” he said.

I figured that he was an idiot. After all, I couldn’t wait to get my license. Then I realized what I had told him for years, “You can get a job after you learn to drive.” I had linked those two events for so long, that they were melded together in his mind. Ergo, if he doesn’t learn to drive, he doesn’t have to get a job. Damn it! I was looking forward to having a gofer who could go for milk when we needed it.

“Ask your friends what they think,” I told him. “Tell them that you’re turning down a car. See what other teenagers think about that.”

“Um, my friends said that I’m crazy. They said, ‘It’s a car, man! A CAR!’” he confessed later.

Still, he refused to get his license for two more years. He claimed that Ruby wasn’t big enough for a tall guy like him. (He’s 5’8”, folks.) A couple of years passed before he humbly asked me if he could have the car.

On his 18th birthday, I finally presented him with the keys. Beforehand, I had the car detailed. I had the oil changed, the brakes checked, and an overall assessment of the car. She was in the best shape that a 10-year-old car could be. For his party, I decorated with the Disney Cars movie theme, because the main character—er, car—was red, too. The house looked like we were celebrating a 5-year-old’s birthday, complete with piñata. What the hell—Jack has a good sense of humor. I presented him with a “Pimp Your Ride” kit, complete with skull-patterned seat covers, sunglasses, jumper cables, and steering wheel cover. He laughed when he opened it.

Sally lights the candles on Jack's 18th Bday Cake (Note the red car)

Sally lights the candles on Jack’s 18th Bday Cake (Note the red car)

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA

Now, 3 years later, we’re selling Ruby. She’s been a good car, but she needs about $500 in work, and will probably need more in the near future. I didn’t think that I would—could—fall in love with a car. Logically, it’s time to sell her. Logically, she’s thirteen years old. If she were a dog, she’d be gray and moving slowly. Illogically, I love her as much as I would a member of the family, e.g. the family pet. Is that odd? I know that other people name their cars and get sentimentally attached, too. I’m not a complete weirdo, am I? At least, not in regards to this topic. I gotta be careful with that question.

My mechanic (and Reggie) had to talk me down on the price. I think she’s worth at least $6000. Kelly Blue Book lists $2800 for a 2002 in good condition. Poor Ruby has some scratches and one silver door. Like I said, she needs some work. Finally, we agreed to list her for $2800 and accept less. She has new tires and I just paid for detailing and an alignment; those are selling points. My sentimental attachment, I was told, is worth zero.

I wonder—if “The Velveteen Rabbit” was about a car, would the owner be able to put a price on that torn up old stuffed animal? The toy became a real rabbit at the end of the book. I wonder if Ruby would become a real gemstone at the end of her version of the story. Now that would be a happy ending! Cha-ching!

Good bye, Ruby, old friend. You will be missed. Jack says that he’ll miss you, too!

Cheers!

Jules’ World – Cast of Characters

CharactersFor those of you who are new to my world, here is a list of the key players.  This post is also a new page, so that you can reference it at any time.  Did I leave anyone out?  Did I get too sarcastic with my descriptions?  Let me know!  I wrote in the royal 3rd person

Jules – Blogger and author, she has a whole page dedicated to her: Click Here.

Jack – Jules’ 21 year old son, best known for Drowning in Testosterone. He lives with Jules and attends college as a computer science major.

Sally – Jules’ 17 year old daughter, who lives with her father in Austin. She and her mom go on annual road trips.  They act like sisters and have often been mistaken for such. She’s my mini-me!

Lilly Peach – Jules’ best friend, Lilly, brings the party. Unfortunately, she’ll be moving the party to Australia in March. Jules and Lilly were introduced by a mutual ex-boyfriend, one of the Mikes.

Lucas Blueberries – Lilly’s Australian fiancée.  Sweet, pouty, and very sarcastic, Lucas has adopted Lilly’s friends and family, so we adopted him, too. Like a pesky younger brother: ya love him, even when he gets on your nerves. : – )

Reggie – Jules’ bestest friend in the whole wide world. They met in college and have never dated because he wanted kids, and she was done. (Plus, he thinks she’s crazy, in a harmless, stay-over-there, entertaining kind of way.)

Gala Pear – Gala, aka Hot Mama, worked with Jules a few years ago.  People kept introducing them, because they were so similar: female, engineer, bubbly, the same age (plus or minus 10 years).  Finally, Jules took the hint, and asked Gala to lunch on April 19, 2011.  They’ve been BF’s ever since, and celebrate their anniversary by visiting the PF Chang’s where they had that first, fateful, lunch.  Well, we did until Gala moved to Colorado.  Now Gala celebrates by giving me a list of reasons that I should move to Denver!

Allie Apple – Another of Jules’ former coworkers, Allie was excited to meet another female engineer, which are rare in our industry. Instead of cig breaks, they took walk breaks, which provided time to gossip and become best friends.  Now that they work at different companies, they gossip via text, phone call, and the occasional happy hour.  Cheers!

Mike – Jules has dated a number of guys named Mike over the years. It’s become a running joke. Instead of saying the last name of the guy or describing him (ex. Mike the Plumber, circa 2006), Jules simply says, “He was one of the Mikes.” Needless to say, her friends have discouraged her from dating anyone named Michael in the future.

Randy “Sandy” Oranges and Zack Zuccini are Jules’ most recent ex-boyfriends (circa 2014).  Since they have common friends, they still see each other from time to time, so they’re on good terms. It was either play nice or find a new set of friends, so “play nice” it is!

Lana Lollipop – Lana is the daughter of one of Jules’ former coworkers. That is, Jules befriended Lana’s dad at work, went to lunch with him, and met Lana. They’ve been friends for years now. Jules sees Lana’s dad at her parties, including the Super Bowl Party just last month.

Renee – Jules’ best friend from high school. Renee would sneak cigs from her mom’s purse and they’d smoke while skipping school. If not for Renee, Jules might be a saint or a nun right now. (Ya right.)

Mandy Mangoes – Renee’s daughter, who was born when Jules and Renee were in high school. Jules loves Mandy like a niece and loves Mandy’s daughter, Minnie, too.

Have a great week!

Cheers!

The Good, The Bad, and The Beautiful

20150213_222430 (2)

The Good

Miss Lilly came over on Valentine’s Day bearing gifts: Ambiance and just enough cloth to cover me.

That is, wine and holiday socks. I fed her chili while we drank and chatted with Jack.

20150215_174328

20150215_115026

The Bad

Later that night, Torio, a guy from Match, asked me to text. He was an average-looking guy, but well-traveled. His profile was pretty average, too. He approached me with a message, “Comment ca va? Est-ce que tu parle francais?” This should have warned me that he’s a jerk. I mean, who busts out with a message in French before confirming that the other person speaks it? Someone who is showing off, that’s who.

He also had “CEO” in his username, another red flag. I shrugged it off; either he’s really a CEO and proud of his job, or he’s an arrogant prick. I gave him the benefit of the doubt; one year I used “Jules_engr” as my username, after all.

The 3rd red flag was that this location was listed as Chicago, IL, while his email said that he was new to Dallas. I don’t like inconsistencies like that. Scammers can use Match for one night stands or to meet a girl in every city on their business route. I decided to proceed with caution.

I messaged a few sentences in French, then switched to English. His response was purely in English (strange) and he asked me to text.

Well, it was 10 p.m. on V Day and I was tipsy, so I agreed. Here’s how that went:

Screenshot_2015-02-14-22-13-24Screenshot_2015-02-14-22-14-19

Screenshot_2015-02-14-22-24-32

What’s the lesson here? “Stop after 2 red flags,” or “Don’t text a new guy on V Day.” Umm, maybe both!

Reggie’s analysis was, “He was looking for a hook up.”

Ah! Another guy who thinks that MATCH is an acronym for, “Meet a Totally Cheap Hooker.”

Well, he was sorely disappointed! Even after drinking, I demand respect. If he wanted to know how I kissed, he should have been a gentleman for a couple of dates.

The Beautiful

Lilly and I always have fun, whether we’re out on the town or handing out at my house. This time, it was my house. Sally texted me to let me know that she had received the V Day card I had sent her. She texted, “Happy Venereal Disease to you, too!”

Valentine’s Day and Venereal Disease are easily confused. I mean VD is VD, right? And you want to share both of them with someone special, right?

The conversation went downhill from there. Lilly and I texted selfies, Sally texted selfies back, then we got into a meme war. Lilly posted on FB, “Quick! I need hilarious memes, any topic!” Her friends came through in a BIG way. She downloaded and texted them to me, then I texted the best to Sally. Sally sent some good ones (i.e. “I was addicted to the Hokey Pokey, but I turned myself around.”)

Lilly and Jules

Lilly and Jules

Sally_Friend

Sally and Friend

20150213_222634 (2)Sally20150213_222430 (2)20150213_205239 (2)

At 11 p.m. Sally sent, “LOL I need to go to bed, good night! I love you!”

YES! We won!

Then we continued to thrash her on FB as Lilly’s friends continued to upload memes. I tagged Sally and posted, “Bazinga!”

Nothing like a friendly Meme/Selfie War to celebrate the day of love. Ah, yes, Lilly ALWAYS brings the Ambiance.

Cheers!

20150213_205213 (2)

HIRED! My Favorite Words

1996, a Strawberry Pirate

1996, a Strawberry Pirate

Woot Woot! On March 2nd, I will join the ranks of the employed. Company A hired me to do my dream job! No, I’m not going to be a pirate. I just added that picture to match the one of my little boy. Which is here because he is 21 years old today! Is the cosmos trying to tell me something, by giving me a great big present on my son’s birthday?

Maybe it’s saying, “Don’t embarrass your son by posting pictures of him as a young child!”

Nah, that’s too easy.

Jack, age 4, 1996.

Jack, age 4, 1996.

Maybe it’s saying, “Take Jack out to eat to celebrate! You’ll be saving money by having one dinner for two awesome events!”

DONE! That’s like having a two-for-one coupon.

Which reminds me, I was listing my favorite words earlier. So far I have:

  • Clearance.  I love a good sale, but clearance sales are best.  When someone compliments me on something that I bought on clearance – that’s when I really get to brag!  “Oh, girl, I got this jacket on sale, after Christmas, on the Victoria Secret website!  You gotta check out the deals!!”
  • Wine.  Reminds me of good times with friends, romance, and relaxing nights with the TV.  Good times.
  • Orgasmic.  I heard this adjective for the first time in high school.  Bonnye B was describing a Toblerone chocolate bar.  I wouldn’t say that the chocolate was that good, but I love the word.  Just hearing it makes me smile.
  • Wine.  Whether from California, Argentina, or Chile, it’s usually good.
  • Gorgeous.  Doesn’t matter if you’re describing me, my jacket, or someone else – this is another word that makes me smile!
  • Cabernet.  Thought I was going to say, “wine,” didn’t you?!
  • Strawberry.  Sugar is sweet, and you are, too!  I mean, I am.  I don’t know about you.  But you’re reading this, so you’re probably as fruity as I am.  ; – )
  • Zinfandel.  Red, specifically.  Spicy, blackberry, yummy.
  • Bonus.  Reminds me of money, and also a little something extra (lagniappe, as we say in Louisiana, my other home state).  Who doesn’t like to find a toy in the cereal?  BONUS!
  • Wine.  I love wine.  See why here.
  • Hike.  I love hiking.  Something about being out in nature, surrounded by woods, brings me peace.  Just thinking about it makes me happy.
  • Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.  Something bout the sound of it, makes me quite precocious.

What else? Oh yes…

Cheers!