I'm not coming out from under this desk until you promise I won't get a bath.
Monday Morning Bernie
Monday, September 20, 2010
I'm not coming out from under this desk until you promise I won't get a bath.
Secondhand Sunday
Sunday, September 19, 2010
I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I'm re-posting a "vintage" entry.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"THIS is why I'm single"
Original Post Date, February 5, 2010
Okay, I blame this on my friend Hot Chocolate, who kinda looks like this. No reason to post a pic really, except, well...look at him...
Look, Hot Chocolate, he has your hat!
Hot Chocolate and I met about eight years ago when we were both working for the same organization. He was in town from California to facilitate a training and it was my job to show him a good time. I just mean it was my job to take him to dinner to unwind after the first day. Geez, get your mind out of the gutter.
We really hit it off and have maintained a friendship ever since. It's been a while since we've been in touch so I was happy to hear from him last week. We went back and forth catching up on things and he told me that he had joined the dating website Plenty of Fish.
I told him that I had been on there, too, but that my profile was hidden now. We exchanged usernames and I logged on , planning to un-hide it for him.
You have 70 messages in your mailbox.
Huh? How could I have messages when I didn't have a profile posted?
It turns out, yes I did. Apparently, I don't know how to hide a profile properly. I thought about just deleting the emails but I was curious to see who had responded.
"45 years old, 3 times divorced.."
Delete!
"40 years old, 5'5..."
Delete!
"48 years old, no LIARS need respond! Don't want any LIARS..."
Delete!
"36 years old, 6'3, owns own business, 6 kids..."
Delete!
You get the idea...
I could tell by a few of the responses that the person had really put a lot of time and thought into it, so for those, I sent the reply, "Thanks for the kind words but I meant to hide my profile in December. I'm not looking right now.Happy Fishing!"
I still left my profile on for another day so Hot Chocolate could see it. Big mistake.
The next day I got the longest, oddest email. Here's the nutshell version. Yes, this is the shortened version.
I've never been been dumped so adroitly. I sincerely hope I'm not writing only to point out that your profile has not been blocked yet. Unless you were only toying with me.
This was followed by lots of stream of consciousness drivel.
I've always fancied ~myself~ being a Philanderist, always giving; always in Love. Ohh, that I were so congenial! (Not sure what word he meant for philanderist. Philanthropist, maybe? Philanderer?)
But NOOO, I had to look at the world from the outside! I remember being 6 and thinking, I can't WAIT to become a grown up; because I believed that adults could control their emotions---and didn't argue! Imagine my disappointment. ~sigh~
I admit, I don't have the hooks for dating. I don't wear OSU's colors, or hang at Starbucks. I'm not an expert on Sushi. And when I DO say I know something, I come across as stubborn, or haughty; but you won't find me wrong often! Why, then I'd have to apologize. I never was comfortable with the taste of crow, no matter how it's served.
I have 1500 CD's but I can barely hold a conversation about music. Eric went to college but chose to work in the Mills (winter hiking, Ba-bayyy!). Yep, Eric goes to Las Vegas, and heads into the countryside. If you take out Browns games, the BBC, Butterflies, Science and History, I watch about an hour of Television a week. Man, do I miss George Page for Nature!
Ohh, sorry, I got off track there.... Yeah, so I was on e-Harmony. A 4 hour psychological deposition, only to discover--nothing! Never was there such a waste land! Dark and spooky...Cadavernous, I called the place. And it's not easy here, either. All well and good to send a missive here and there, but there is so much importance placed on trifling details, that almost no fish can pass the weir. Plenty OFFISH, methinks.
No kidding, this girl was kissing me at my Christmas party-- never met her before--she came with a sailing friend that was playing Beach Blanket Bingo or some such titllation in the back part of the basement with another guy that hadn't attended before. So she is amorous and somehow jealous. Weeks later I asked for her phone number, and got it after it was "OK'd". I call up and say hello, and what do I hear? "Eric..WHO?" lol. (WHA?)
Yeah, it's been that way. I've got my dates from Hell stories. Ohh, if I could only explain it all. Have I not walked through life a step behind the guy that bruises each and every tender soul??
It's no wonder I need solace. Solace Power! That's what I get on my sailboat! (Men always throw in a reference to the sports car or the boat) It's sometimes said that us sailors are all ill, that we get Navigational Aids. But it's not true! Sailors travel to many lands, they sail to wherever they pleases; but they always make sure to wash their hands, so they don't get no diseases!I'm still trying to account for that Dysentery in Spain...
I'm a tree hugger, too. I love to wrap my arms around a great big oak tree. I was a member of the Wilderness Society, being fond of the foudner, Bob Marshall, but I grew to resent their militancy. I'm not in it for stress, I would have chosen law school. I find my church at the top of a tall, open peak. I also like landscaping with trees and shrubs. Perhaps I told you that my garden is dominated buy a nearby pine, but Mom's place in Carolina is my personal nursery. I just love nurturing. I'd like to try that with a relationship sometime...(wow, that's dry like popcorn champagne!).
Yes, yes, you pointed out that I gave many details in my last letter (and were kind enough to say thanks, too!). I'm not long winded in person, lol, speech is a different part of the brain. I'm just bungling along at the moment, desperately trying to figure out I can draw this this gambit to a close "Stylin"! I'm quite the perfectionist in some things.
I jut love Dogs. Looks like yours could use a walk. (Did he just call Bernie fat?)
Well, I too, am flustered as to discovering a theme in all of this. More rigamarole than 'rigged and rollin'. How can I write without italics, anyway?
Alright, I might just as well hang it all on one ill considered BLIND GUESS! I thought initially you were in Cleveland Heights, but the fireplace doesn't have the right molding; there is no mantle apparent, and the walls seem too new. The door paneling paint is excellent, and probably covers some wood less desirable than the old hardwoods used in the '30's (my own hardwood moldings are all ensconced in lead paint). And given where the Mdical offices are...I'm guessing that you live with a mile and a half of I-271. (Is this not the most frightening thing you've ever read??)
Well, it's make it or break it time! Few would be so bold, but I want you to know that I'M THE MAN that can swing a hammer near his fingers! They might have known something different was afoot when they discovered that I'd brought home goose eggs, built an incubator from scratch, and started the house afire! Only I could stand in the street and stare down that pick-up with murderous intent! (and I went to jail--briefly-- for smacking his truck, too). (?!?!?!?!)
Ohh, really, there's no posturing in all of this, except to say that I am interested. I hope you'll consider becoming my friend, and write me back. Just a gemmy-lil' something. I'll take it from there!
Delete!
And this time I was sure to delete my profile, too.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"THIS is why I'm single"
Original Post Date, February 5, 2010
Okay, I blame this on my friend Hot Chocolate, who kinda looks like this. No reason to post a pic really, except, well...look at him...
Look, Hot Chocolate, he has your hat!
Hot Chocolate and I met about eight years ago when we were both working for the same organization. He was in town from California to facilitate a training and it was my job to show him a good time. I just mean it was my job to take him to dinner to unwind after the first day. Geez, get your mind out of the gutter.
We really hit it off and have maintained a friendship ever since. It's been a while since we've been in touch so I was happy to hear from him last week. We went back and forth catching up on things and he told me that he had joined the dating website Plenty of Fish.
I told him that I had been on there, too, but that my profile was hidden now. We exchanged usernames and I logged on , planning to un-hide it for him.
You have 70 messages in your mailbox.
Huh? How could I have messages when I didn't have a profile posted?
It turns out, yes I did. Apparently, I don't know how to hide a profile properly. I thought about just deleting the emails but I was curious to see who had responded.
"45 years old, 3 times divorced.."
Delete!
"40 years old, 5'5..."
Delete!
"48 years old, no LIARS need respond! Don't want any LIARS..."
Delete!
"36 years old, 6'3, owns own business, 6 kids..."
Delete!
You get the idea...
I could tell by a few of the responses that the person had really put a lot of time and thought into it, so for those, I sent the reply, "Thanks for the kind words but I meant to hide my profile in December. I'm not looking right now.Happy Fishing!"
I still left my profile on for another day so Hot Chocolate could see it. Big mistake.
The next day I got the longest, oddest email. Here's the nutshell version. Yes, this is the shortened version.
I've never been been dumped so adroitly. I sincerely hope I'm not writing only to point out that your profile has not been blocked yet. Unless you were only toying with me.
This was followed by lots of stream of consciousness drivel.
I've always fancied ~myself~ being a Philanderist, always giving; always in Love. Ohh, that I were so congenial! (Not sure what word he meant for philanderist. Philanthropist, maybe? Philanderer?)
But NOOO, I had to look at the world from the outside! I remember being 6 and thinking, I can't WAIT to become a grown up; because I believed that adults could control their emotions---and didn't argue! Imagine my disappointment. ~sigh~
I admit, I don't have the hooks for dating. I don't wear OSU's colors, or hang at Starbucks. I'm not an expert on Sushi. And when I DO say I know something, I come across as stubborn, or haughty; but you won't find me wrong often! Why, then I'd have to apologize. I never was comfortable with the taste of crow, no matter how it's served.
I have 1500 CD's but I can barely hold a conversation about music. Eric went to college but chose to work in the Mills (winter hiking, Ba-bayyy!). Yep, Eric goes to Las Vegas, and heads into the countryside. If you take out Browns games, the BBC, Butterflies, Science and History, I watch about an hour of Television a week. Man, do I miss George Page for Nature!
Ohh, sorry, I got off track there.... Yeah, so I was on e-Harmony. A 4 hour psychological deposition, only to discover--nothing! Never was there such a waste land! Dark and spooky...Cadavernous, I called the place. And it's not easy here, either. All well and good to send a missive here and there, but there is so much importance placed on trifling details, that almost no fish can pass the weir. Plenty OFFISH, methinks.
No kidding, this girl was kissing me at my Christmas party-- never met her before--she came with a sailing friend that was playing Beach Blanket Bingo or some such titllation in the back part of the basement with another guy that hadn't attended before. So she is amorous and somehow jealous. Weeks later I asked for her phone number, and got it after it was "OK'd". I call up and say hello, and what do I hear? "Eric..WHO?" lol. (WHA?)
Yeah, it's been that way. I've got my dates from Hell stories. Ohh, if I could only explain it all. Have I not walked through life a step behind the guy that bruises each and every tender soul??
It's no wonder I need solace. Solace Power! That's what I get on my sailboat! (Men always throw in a reference to the sports car or the boat) It's sometimes said that us sailors are all ill, that we get Navigational Aids. But it's not true! Sailors travel to many lands, they sail to wherever they pleases; but they always make sure to wash their hands, so they don't get no diseases!I'm still trying to account for that Dysentery in Spain...
I'm a tree hugger, too. I love to wrap my arms around a great big oak tree. I was a member of the Wilderness Society, being fond of the foudner, Bob Marshall, but I grew to resent their militancy. I'm not in it for stress, I would have chosen law school. I find my church at the top of a tall, open peak. I also like landscaping with trees and shrubs. Perhaps I told you that my garden is dominated buy a nearby pine, but Mom's place in Carolina is my personal nursery. I just love nurturing. I'd like to try that with a relationship sometime...(wow, that's dry like popcorn champagne!).
Yes, yes, you pointed out that I gave many details in my last letter (and were kind enough to say thanks, too!). I'm not long winded in person, lol, speech is a different part of the brain. I'm just bungling along at the moment, desperately trying to figure out I can draw this this gambit to a close "Stylin"! I'm quite the perfectionist in some things.
I jut love Dogs. Looks like yours could use a walk. (Did he just call Bernie fat?)
Well, I too, am flustered as to discovering a theme in all of this. More rigamarole than 'rigged and rollin'. How can I write without italics, anyway?
Alright, I might just as well hang it all on one ill considered BLIND GUESS! I thought initially you were in Cleveland Heights, but the fireplace doesn't have the right molding; there is no mantle apparent, and the walls seem too new. The door paneling paint is excellent, and probably covers some wood less desirable than the old hardwoods used in the '30's (my own hardwood moldings are all ensconced in lead paint). And given where the Mdical offices are...I'm guessing that you live with a mile and a half of I-271. (Is this not the most frightening thing you've ever read??)
Well, it's make it or break it time! Few would be so bold, but I want you to know that I'M THE MAN that can swing a hammer near his fingers! They might have known something different was afoot when they discovered that I'd brought home goose eggs, built an incubator from scratch, and started the house afire! Only I could stand in the street and stare down that pick-up with murderous intent! (and I went to jail--briefly-- for smacking his truck, too). (?!?!?!?!)
Ohh, really, there's no posturing in all of this, except to say that I am interested. I hope you'll consider becoming my friend, and write me back. Just a gemmy-lil' something. I'll take it from there!
Delete!
And this time I was sure to delete my profile, too.
Weekly Weigh-In
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Hi Guys,
Sorry I haven't been posting much. I've been trying to get back to "life".
Exciting news again...
I lost 3 pounds this week!
That's 5.8 pounds total. It would have 6 if I had pooped this morning so let's just say 6, okay?
If you're not familiar with Weight Watchers, when you reach a 5 pound weight loss, you get a star sticker. Yes, just like when you were 6 years old and mastered your ABC's.
And you know how much I like things that you stick on.
Monday Morning Bernie
Monday, September 13, 2010
What?
Oh. This is the pillow you wanted me to stay off?
Oh. This is the pillow you wanted me to stay off?
Secondhand Sunday
Sunday, September 12, 2010
I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I'm re-posting a "vintage" entry.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"Say it isn't so!"
Original Post Date, April 1, 2010
I’m officially a member of "The Swish Club."
The what?
You know, "The Swish Club". Let me explain.
My friend Debbie and I worked together at Casual Corner (a now defunct women’s clothing store) in 1985. She was 23, I was 19. We went out partying at least 3 nights a week and our meals consisted of Burger King or gyros bought from a street vendor at 2AM. I remember feeling really huge compared to Debbie because she was a petite size 4 and I was a mammoth size 6.
Our store manager, Lori, was a 28 year old Slovenian brick house. She donned a large head of super teased hair sprayed hair, Lee press on nails and raccoon eyeliner. She wore size 8 dresses over her size 12 booty and when she walked, her thighs went swish, swish, swish, swish.
That summer, we went to go see Whitney Houston at an outdoor concert in July. Summers in Cleveland are notoriously hot and muggy but Lori wore pantyhose under her shorts. All we heard on the way up the hill to our seats was swish, swish, swish, swish.
Debbie and I were both horrified to think that one day our thin legs might actually touch when we walked and we would then become members of "The Swish Club" .
I honestly thought I had dodged that bullet all these years until a few days ago. I wore pants most of the winter to fend off the cold but a warm spring day this week brought one of my favorite skirts out of hiding.
I was walking down a quiet corridor of the hospital when I heard it.
Swish, swish, swish, swish
I smiled to myself, remembering Lori and wondering who the poor soul was behind me with the thunder thighs. I paused to fake adjust my shoe and when I looked back, there was no one there. I assumed they had veered off down a hallway and I continued on my way.
Swish, swish, swish, swish
This time, I didn't even pretend to adjust my shoe. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around.
There was no one there.
I started to walk.
Swish, swish
I stopped. The swishing stopped.
I started to walk again.
Swish, swish, swish
Holy Mother! That sound is MY thighs! No, no, it can't be!
Swish
No!
Swish
No!
Swi
I tried walking so that my thighs wouldn't touch but it was no use. That just made me look like I had a load in my pants.
Well, I guess if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
I've applied for "The Swish Club" membership card. I hear they have some great discounts on cocoa butter for the inner thigh rash.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"Say it isn't so!"
Original Post Date, April 1, 2010
I’m officially a member of "The Swish Club."
The what?
You know, "The Swish Club". Let me explain.
My friend Debbie and I worked together at Casual Corner (a now defunct women’s clothing store) in 1985. She was 23, I was 19. We went out partying at least 3 nights a week and our meals consisted of Burger King or gyros bought from a street vendor at 2AM. I remember feeling really huge compared to Debbie because she was a petite size 4 and I was a mammoth size 6.
Our store manager, Lori, was a 28 year old Slovenian brick house. She donned a large head of super teased hair sprayed hair, Lee press on nails and raccoon eyeliner. She wore size 8 dresses over her size 12 booty and when she walked, her thighs went swish, swish, swish, swish.
That summer, we went to go see Whitney Houston at an outdoor concert in July. Summers in Cleveland are notoriously hot and muggy but Lori wore pantyhose under her shorts. All we heard on the way up the hill to our seats was swish, swish, swish, swish.
Debbie and I were both horrified to think that one day our thin legs might actually touch when we walked and we would then become members of "The Swish Club" .
I honestly thought I had dodged that bullet all these years until a few days ago. I wore pants most of the winter to fend off the cold but a warm spring day this week brought one of my favorite skirts out of hiding.
I was walking down a quiet corridor of the hospital when I heard it.
Swish, swish, swish, swish
I smiled to myself, remembering Lori and wondering who the poor soul was behind me with the thunder thighs. I paused to fake adjust my shoe and when I looked back, there was no one there. I assumed they had veered off down a hallway and I continued on my way.
Swish, swish, swish, swish
This time, I didn't even pretend to adjust my shoe. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around.
There was no one there.
I started to walk.
Swish, swish
I stopped. The swishing stopped.
I started to walk again.
Swish, swish, swish
Holy Mother! That sound is MY thighs! No, no, it can't be!
Swish
No!
Swish
No!
Swi
I tried walking so that my thighs wouldn't touch but it was no use. That just made me look like I had a load in my pants.
Well, I guess if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
I've applied for "The Swish Club" membership card. I hear they have some great discounts on cocoa butter for the inner thigh rash.
Weekly Weigh-In
Thursday, September 9, 2010
I lost 2.8 pounds!
Yay, me!
I also think I scared that guy away from last week. He was nowhere to be found.
Woops.
If at first you don't succeed...
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Okay, so you know how my mother tricked me into promising my dying father that I would join Weight Watchers, right?
Well, I did.
Last Thursday night was my first weigh-in. Notice how I'm not posting after this Thursday's meeting because I'm worried that I haven't lost anything. Don't get me wrong. I've stuck to the program and counted all my points. I've worked out every day. I'm just a-skared. It almost seemed too easy.
I need to suffer! I need to feel like I'm being deprived of things that all the good people of the world can eat. I don't want to be told that I can actually EAT a candy bar as long as I "count my points."
Okay, where's the camera? Is this going on YouTube?
I got there 30 minutes before the class so that I could register. The only reason I chose this particular meeting is because it's literally 3 minutes from my house in our city community center. I debated going at night because everyone knows that the best time to weigh yourself is first thing in the morning, naked, after you pee but before you shower. Wet hair adds unwanted ounces to the scale. Don't be a fool, people.
Well, I'm a fool. Because I had my initial weigh-in at 7PM, after gourging myself for a week and having a "last supper" Big Mac meal at 6PM. I couldn't love you more, two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun.
I know I've said it before, but THIS was the most I've ever weighed.
I was so pissed off when she handed me the booklet where she had scribbled that...that NUMBER that I stomped over to a seat and waited for the class to start. There were only about 4 people there early and a guy about my age turned around to greet me.
Big mistake. Didn't he see me stomping?
"Well, hello, how are you today?"
I squinted my eyes at him, "Well, I would be a lot better if I wasn't so FAT!"
Where did that come from? I thought to myself. Wow. Fat people really are mean!
He turned away for a minute but came back for more.
"The weather's pretty nice, isn't it?"
Weather? Is this guy really trying to talk to me about the weather when I'm the fattest I've ever been in my life? How can he even stand to look at me? I'm hideous!
"Uh, huh." It's not his fault you're fat, Chrissy..
Hopefully, I'll have a positive outcome tomorrow so that I won't have to bitch slap him when he says, "So how was your first week?"
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