Public Service Announcement

If you're like me, you're always misplacing things.

Purse
Car keys
Gloves. Actually, usually just one.
Birth control pills
Cell phone

I made the wise (?) move to disconnect my landline in anticipation of moving. (And no, I still haven't moved but that's another post). Well, stupid me. The only way I could ever FIND my cell phone was by calling it from my landline. Without a landline, I can't tell you how much time I've wasted trying to locate my phone.


And, no this boyish ass is obviously not mine.

I was lamenting about this one day on Facebook when one of my friends (Thanks, Vernon!) told me about this super cool website

http://www.wheresmycellphone.com/

You type in your number and it calls your phone!! How cool is that? And the best part is that it's FREE. You know I love FREE. Donations are gladly accepted to keep the service free.

Try it out!

Monday Morning Millie

Okay, I know some of you don't believe in this stuff but for those that do, tell me that isn't the coolest active orb you've ever seen!

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.


"The best things in life are free.

Or available with a 50-90% discount on Groupon."

Monday Morning Millie, Vinny & Dino

Browse these cheap magazine subscriptions today!

I guess I'll sleep on the couch tonight!

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.

"1 + 1 = 0"

Original Post Date, March 24, 2009


Let's talk about this whole cougar phenomenon. I don't know. Is it really a phenomenon? It looks like women have finally caught up to men in the "I look like an idiot dating someone 15 years younger than me" category. I suppose it was inevitable.

We make our own money, we own our own homes, we kill our own spiders. It was just a matter of time before we bought our own boyfriends.

Clarification, please. Do you have to be rich to be a cougah (it's so much more fun to say it that way, isn't it?) or do you just need to be old and horny for young boys?

I'm neither. So I guess I'm not a cougah. There have been two instances where I've dated (and I use the term "dated" very loosely) younger guys. The first one was 21 years old to my 29. He was a bartender at Shooter's Restaurant and he was cute as cute could be. He was a bodybuilder and had lots of tattoos. I'm 5'9, he was maybe 5'5. But did I mention how cute he was? He wasn't very bright, either, and one of my elitist friends said, "What could you possibly see in him? Don't you need intellectual stimulation?" I just laughed and told her that was what I had her for.

The second young'un was 21 years old when I was 34. I met him at a going away party that my friend's co-workers threw for her when she got a new job. He was pretty cute and he had a motorcycle. Well, I had never been on a motorcycle so we wandered outside the bar, took a ride on the bike and then sat down to talk.

Keep in mind: I'm 34, he's 21.

Me: "That was a fun ride. How fast were we going?"

Him: "I don't know, dude. Somewhere around 90 miles an hour."

Me: "Oh my."

chat....chat....chat....

Him: "You have a kick ass body, man!"

Me: "Why, thank you."

Him: "You rock!", pointing both fingers at me. Pow! Pow!

Me: "Thank you, again."

WHY I gave him my phone number is beyond me but I think we met for a drink once and he did call a few times. He was a truck driver and his cargo was usually clothing for the Gap or The Limited. He was sweet enough to offer to steal some clothing for me if I gave him my size but I was torn between telling him my size and reporting him to the authorities.

Needless to say, that relationship didn't work out.

I just can't imagine dating someone that much younger now and I don't understand why women do it. I suppose it's the ego boost. We do it because we can. We don't look like our mothers looked when they were our age. I'm trying to picture what I would look like in one of my mother's housecoats and it's not pretty, although the front snaps would make for easy access.

I can't imagine it's the sex, either. Maybe we just think we look younger standing next to some hot young thing. It's probably what Donald Trump and Bruce Willis think.

I thought I might look younger standing next to someone older so I went out with a 50 year old a few weeks ago. He was very nice, very articulate and very polite. Throughout the course of the night, he alluded to how great it would be to have someone to go to church and/or Bible study with.

Now if you've read at least three of my posts, you've probably figured out that I'm not the girl for him and I told him so. He brushed it off and asked me if I would like to out again. Sure, I say, let's do this again as he kissed me on the cheek.

I almost wanted to take his hands and put them on my boobs. Lively banter, gentlemanly behavior...what kind of dating twilight zone was I in?

A few days later, I got an email from him asking me if I wanted to be friends, what kind of friend I wanted to be, etc. He was completely analyzing something that didn't even exist yet. Um...next. But we saw that coming.

Now don't get me wrong. I haven't lost sight of the fact that I am the common denominator in all of these encounters.

Maybe I'm too picky.

Maybe I'm too set in my ways.

Maybe I have unrealistically high standards.

Maybe it is me.

Ummm....maybe not.

Work it, baby!

You know I'm obsessed with Toddlers & Tiaras. This is way too funny. Enjoy!

Go ahead, make my day

Read features, fashion, and beauty with these mags.

Okay, so I had my LAST date on Saturday. And not in a good “my last date…my last kiss cuz this is the one” kinda way. I’m just DONE.

We’ve discussed how shallow I am and how that usually ends up biting me in the ass when the pretty boys end up being jerks. I decided to go out with a really nice, educated, articulate, successful financial planner that really wasn’t my physical “type” but since chemistry can be so elusive anyway, I decided to give it a shot. He was 50, divorced with three young kids (again, I ask the question…where were these guys when I wanted kids 10 years ago??)

We decided to meet at a trendy pub on Saturday for lunch. I was anxious to check it out since I had never been there before and some friends said it was fun. Well, he got there before me and texted that it wasn’t open for lunch but that he would wait in the parking lot for me and we could go somewhere else. I pulled up to see a silver haired guy sitting in a ginormous SUV, tapping away on his iPhone. He suggested that we head down the road to another bar and I got in his car. (I know. Stupid move. But I figured if anything happened to me, he could easily be found by all information I had gathered through my pre-date investigation of him).

He was nice but I didn’t really feel a connection which was probably best when he told me about his “still really angry” ex-wife who was a surgeon and had left him for a resident, only to have that guy leave her, too. Isn’t that how it always is? It sounded like he had way too much drama in his life and that he was looking for something more serious than I was anyway. It seems like all the men I meet are looking for their next wife and they don’t understand a woman who wants to casually date. By the end of lunch, he was telling me to “not take it personally, but you aren’t ready to date.”

Um, okay, Dr. Drew.

What the hell??

We had an interesting debate on that one and he asked me if I was a serial dater?? Wha??

We had actually made plans to do something after lunch but it was obvious to both of us that this date was over. I feel like I’m now acting like all the men I dated when I was in my 20’s and the guys are me. “Don’t you realize that I’m the best thing since sliced bread?", they implore.

Driving back to my car, we had this conversation:

Ginormous SUV guy: “You know it was really…um…brave of you to get in a car with someone you don’t know.”

I gazed at him wistfully, “Yeah…maybe….”

“No, really. I mean, you don’t even know me.”

I turned to him and smiled, “It’s okay. I have a gun in my purse.”

He started to laugh but then I saw the look of fear and uncertainty flash across his face.

Go ahead, buddy, call me a serial dater again.

Monday Morning Millie & Dino

"I'm not saying sorry until she says she's sorry."

"I'm not saying sorry until he says he's sorry."

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


"Is chivalry dead?"

Original Post Date, February 25, 2010

I'm about as independent as they come. I kill my own spiders, mow my own lawn and clean my own sink trap.

You heard that right.

I know what a sink trap is and I know how to clean it.

While I'm proud that I can take care of myself, I do appreciate small chivalrous acts. Just like the art of the compliment, boys, these simple things go a long way. And not just for your wife or girlfriend. Even perfect strangers will inwardly swoon at your respect for all females.

Since I work in a large hospital with a multitude of elevators, elevator etiquette is probably my biggest pet peeve.



Now, I understand that on occasion, there are emergencies that would necessitate a man running out of the elevator before me but, c'mon, they don't happen every day.

Here's the rule. Women exit first. The end.

Depending on the time of day that I get to work, I may run into the Russian professor who has a penchant for vests and elbow patch jackets.

"You look so nice today. The pearls are a nice touch," he'll say, as he holds the door open for me.

Or the nice, young resident who offered to carry boxes out for me when he saw me struggling.

Then there's THIS guy.

"Mister It's All About Me"

I began seeing him about a week ago. The first time was when we both started walking toward the double glass doors that lead you to the elevator on the roof of the parking garage.

I saw him glance back at me as he reached the door but he ignored the fact that I was nearly on his heels and let the door shut on me. I mumbled a "thank you very much" under my breath when I stepped inside.

He responded in some foreign tongue pretending he had no grasp of English, much like Akio Toyoda did in the Congressional hearings today. I'm sure both of these clowns could probably teach English as a second language.

To add more insult, when we descended the 8 floors to street level, he rushed past me to exit the elevator as I stood there, incredulous once more. And he's done this elevator bolt three more times in the last week.

That's not how you do it, "Mister It's All About Me."

Today, I got to the elevator before him. He was still a distance away but I kept looking back at him as I pounded on the down button.

"Hurry! Hurry!", I yelled to the elevator as I turned around again, feeling like a bank robber fleeing the po-po.

He was gaining ground when he dropped his keys.

Score!

"Hurry! Hurry, goddamn you!!" My heart pounded faster as I watched the numbers light up in succession.

4.....5.....6.....7....8!

As the door opened, I rushed inside and hit 1.

Close! Close!, I shouted in my head, as I saw him coming through the doors, waving his arm.

"Hold the elevator!", he shouted.

I leaned forward as the doors were almost closed, "Qué?"

And THAT'S how you do it, "Mister It's All About Me."

My left foot

No...no...not the Daniel Day-Lewis movie. This is actually about my left foot.

I went back to the podiatrist on Friday for the results of my MRI. Curiously enough, I haven’t been experiencing as much pain in the last few weeks but it’s probably because I bought these cool new workout shoes.

I was all set to shell out at least a hundred bucks but as luck would have it, Dick’s Sporting Goods was a having a big clearance sale.

Reduced shoe + extra % off - gift card = 43 cents! That's right. Cents.

The doc said that the MRI findings show that I have a condition called Norton’s Neuroma, which I know, sounds awful and “oma” like. It turns out that a neuroma is an injury to the nerves between the toes. He went through the whole spiel about what a neuroma is and then told that he thinks it’s something else. Um...okay.

He says it’s capsulitis, which is similar but it affects a different toe. The ligaments surrounding the joint at the base of the second toe form a “capsule,” which helps the joint to function properly. Capsulitis is a condition in which these ligaments have become inflamed.

It's also known as predislocation syndrome. The brochure that the doc gave me states "the ball of the foot beneath the toe joint takes an excessive amount of weight-bearing pressure."

Shut it! I know there's an excessive amount of weight on it right now.

Capsulitis is a progressive disorder and usually worsens if left untreated so it's best to act on it now before the toe drifts over and lies on top of the big toe. I was going to post a picture but it's far too disturbing.

I'm wearing a splint and this little rubbery thing between my big toe and second toe. Of course, they always look at your shoes and tell you not to wear the "fancy kind". I think the shoes I wear now are pretty stylish and practical. Why, just the other day, a nun was complimenting me on them.

I'm supposed to stay off the foot as much as possible but that's not going to happen. I finally got into a workout routine so I can't stop now.

He did suggest having a custom orthotic made but I just can't do it. That's like resigning yourself to wearing grandma shoes for the rest of your life.

I'm too young.

What if I want to wear f@#! me pumps again?

Oh, wait. This will probably work as long as I never actually stand on them.

Monday Morning Vinny & Millie

"Maybe if I cover my face, no one will recognize me as the guy with the dog's nose in his butt."

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


"Eeny, meeny, miney, moe..."

Original Post Date, November 24, 2010

I’ve been on and off dating websites for the last 10 years.

Good Lord. TEN years.

Recently, more off than on.

The last time was in 2009 when I tried out Plentyoffish.com (can you say FREE?) and met the manly man firefighter.



He subsequently went back to his wife. By the way, if you know of any men who are separated, please give them my number and they will be sure to reconcile with their ex in no time.

Then I tried the California guy thing and that went to straight to hell. And by the way, do you know that he never even emailed to see how my Dad was? How shitty is that?

Obviously, I had a lot going on this past year so dating was the last thing on my mind but I think I’m ready to get out there again. Whatever that means.

Last night, I went on Match.com just to peek around and see what the pickin's are and I actually found some interesting people. Of course, the bummer is that most of them have "40 year old woman" at the top of their age range. Maybe 41. The only ones who are willing to date 44 year old women are usually 74 year old men.


He's on my "maybe" list

The fact that you can be so specific about your “criteria” is what attracts me to Match.com over the others. No, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to only look for men who live within a 5 mile radius of my home. You know I’m lazy, so the last thing I want to do is drive any farther than I have to.

And sure, they can drive to see me but c’mon, it’s Ohio. I don't need some guy I’ve only been out with a few times to drive in from Akron during a blizzard and then use as an excuse that “the roads are too bad to drive back home, baby”.

Here's a snow brush, baby. Put your pants on and get out.

I know that I’m not looking for a serious relationship. All I want is someone to go out with once in a while and to "bada boom, bada bing"!

Wait. Does that mean "sex" or does it mean "killing someone"? I'm looking for the first one.

These were some of the profiles from last night.

A plumber? Nah...my pipes are in pretty good shape.

Graphic designer? Well, I am looking at a new website venture. I’ll save that profile to my favorites.

Landscaper? I really need a fall clean up in my yard. I wonder if he does snowplowing? Save that one…

Attorney? No, I’m good.

Electrician? Oh, I really want an outlet installed out front so I can do Christmas lights this year. Save to favorites…

No...I know...you're right!

I shouldn't be looking at these men for they can DO for me. I should be looking for someone who has the same morals, religious beliefs and interests as me. Because that's really the only way that I'll find someone that I'm compatible with.

Hold on...this one does drywall....

Shit girls say

Yes, totally sophomoric but I can't stop laughing at it.

Look out losers!

Get the inside scoop on celebrities with these mags.

I told you guys that I’ve been busting my butt to get in shape. Well, I’m happy to report that I’m down 10 pounds!

I’ll pause here until the applause subsides….

Thank you!

Only 30 pounds to go!

I knew that once I got a routine going again, I would be able to stick with it. Initially, I tried P90X again, but I just wasn’t feeling it this go around. My friend, Nancy, kept saying “Tracy Anderson….you should try Tracy Anderson….have I told you about Tracy Anderson?” Well, since Tracy Anderson is probably the only infomercial workout system that I don’t own, I logged onto QVC and ordered it. It will be all mine once I make the last of the four “easy pay” payments.

Here's the minx, Tracy, herself. A little skinny for my taste.

Can I just say that I LOVE this workout? Sure, initially I was cursing Nancy and the ground she walks on, but once I got the hang of it, I actually enjoyed it. Don’t get me wrong, it completely kicks my ass and I’m really only doing half of it. Let me explain.

The program is called Metamorphosis and it consists of a session of Dance Cardio combined with a full body workout. The Dance Cardio is 30 minutes long and the first day, I was able to do 5 minutes. Hey, don’t laugh, I was pretty impressed that I lasted that long.

Partly because of being grossly out of shape and partly because of my stupid foot. You know how I’m a klutz, right? Well, I guess that one of the 10 or 20 times that I’ve tripped/fallen in the last 6 months must have done something to the ball of my left foot. And what is it that you do in Dance Cardio? That’s right. You dance on the balls of your feet.

I went to the doctor last week and the x rays didn’t reveal any bone fractures so he ordered an MRI to see if there might be some tissue damage.

Have any of you ever had an MRI? I remember seeing those “Open MRI” places and thinking, “What the heck? Open MRI? Why would someone need that?” And then I had a regular MRI in the TUBE. I never knew I was claustrophobic until I had to lie in this tube that was inches from my body for 60 minutes as it hummmmed around me. AHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Luckily, the podiatrist directed me toward an extremity MRI facility where all I had to do was sit back, place my foot in a tube and watch Ellen for 45 minutes. I get the results this Friday.

The second half of the Tracy Anderson workout includes varying leg lifts.

Lots of them.

Like 200 on each side.

And for this, I paid $100?

But the awesome news is that I can totally feel my thighs getter harder and my butt lifting after just 4 weeks. Admittedly, I’ve been way less than perfect with my diet so I feel those things under the layer of fat that covers them. C’mon, it was the holiday. Of course, I was going to indulge in my favorite martinis, Christmas cookies and sweets. Now that the leftovers have been thrown out...okay, eaten...it’s time to focus on my diet as well.

I’ve decided to tackle this with the determination of a Biggest Loser contestant. I see it like this. The average contestant is on the ranch for 12 weeks, exercises 4-6 hours a day and loses, what, an average of 100 pounds? So if I work out for 12 weeks for 2 hours a day, I should be able to reach my goal by March 1!

And then I expect you all to pool your resources and reward me with $100,000.

Monday Morning Millie & Dino