"J....L....P.....M??.....Oh, shit, I can't read this line at all."
Monday Morning Millie
Monday, February 20, 2012
"J....L....P.....M??.....Oh, shit, I can't read this line at all."
Secondhand Sunday
Sunday, February 19, 2012
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.
"I can do that, too!"
Original Post Date, March 29, 2010
I’m a brand loyalist.
I only buy Diet Coke, won’t eat a salad without Wishbone Balsamic and Basil Vinaigrette dressing and I replace my white leather Keds with white leather Keds. I thank L’Oreal for my long lashes, Bare Minerals for my “flawless” complexion and Pantene for my shiny locks.
When I worked out religiously in the past, I always bought Nike apparel and shoes. They’re one of the few vendors that make a pant long enough for my 34" inseam and the athletic shoes fit me like a glove.
WHY I decided to go out and buy a pair of Avia shoes is beyond me. I suppose it was the pretty "sale" sign that clouded my judgement. Well, I wore them around the house and hated them. Back they went and I brought home a nice new pair of Nike running shoes.
I know what you’re thinking. Running shoes, Chrissy? Isn’t that a little ambitious?
Well, yes it is, my friends, but this is my fantasy, so shut it.
I headed to the gym last night, sporting an extra spring in my step, courtesy of Nike. I went much later than usual so it was easy to snag a treadmill since there weren’t many people there. As I stretched, I sized up my gym mates.
Two treadmills to the right was a large man wearing one of those silver sauna sweat suits. I’ve seen them in magazines but I’ve never actually seen anyone wear one in person. I would imagine that the fabric is nylon, as they tout the benefits of “sweating your way to a slimmer you”.
Sure, if you don’t pass out and die first. So far, Mr. Silverman looked like he was going to make it as he walked at a regular pace.
To my left, facing the opposite wall was a very large woman wearing white. White calf length pants, white shoes and a white top over her white sports bra. And she was jogging. I thought to myself, If she can do it, so can I!
Scattered around the room were some senior citizens up past their bedtime and some younger guys who were probably the ones who drove Grandma and Grandpa to the Y.
They limit you to 30 minutes on each piece of equipment so I started walking at a faster pace than normal to warm up because I wanted to start alternately jogging and walking tonight.
Since it was dark out, when I looked ahead, all I could see was the reflective image of myself in the mosaic of condensation and cracked glass that the fitness room’s windows provided. It was likely my shadowy silhouette that lulled me into thinking I actually looked pretty good when I started to jog. My new sports bra was keeping the girls in place and my yoga pants gave my legs a really lean look.
I glanced to my right, Keep going, Mr. Silverman, and all this could be yours someday.
I was feeling pretty impressed with myself when a tiny slip of a thing sauntered up to the treadmill between me and Mr. Silverman. She was probably about 25 years old, 5'3, cute as a button and skinny, even though she was wearing two layers of clothing. She started out walking so I, of course, had to continue jogging to show her up.
Game on, honey!
I realized I had pushed my limits when I felt the first bit of vomit coming up my throat so I opted to slow down to a brisk walk. As I gasped to catch my breath, Miss Tiny started to jog. I glanced over and disgustedly noticed that her ass was keeping pace with the rest of her body unlike mine that bounced uncontrollably wondering what the hell was happening.
Once again, I got the bright idea to start jogging. I increased the speed and hoped there was no one on the machines behind me to witness this.
Let's do this, chicky!
I looked at Miss Tiny's reflection in the window because it seemed rude to stare right at her. I saw her reflection unzip her hoodie and remove it to reveal a long sleeved tee. I had to look. It was like staring at the sun. I knew I should look away, but I couldn't. She had barely a glisten on her face while I worried that I might have splashed some sweat her way when I turned my head.
How do you not sweat?? It doesn't matter. I'll just keep going.
Five pathetic minutes later, I slowed to a walk again and Miss Tiny removed her long sleeved tee to reveal her perfectly petite body running like a gazelle in a racerback bra top. You heard that right.
It's a bra.
It's a top.
Crap.
Game over.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"I can do that, too!"
Original Post Date, March 29, 2010
I’m a brand loyalist.
I only buy Diet Coke, won’t eat a salad without Wishbone Balsamic and Basil Vinaigrette dressing and I replace my white leather Keds with white leather Keds. I thank L’Oreal for my long lashes, Bare Minerals for my “flawless” complexion and Pantene for my shiny locks.
When I worked out religiously in the past, I always bought Nike apparel and shoes. They’re one of the few vendors that make a pant long enough for my 34" inseam and the athletic shoes fit me like a glove. WHY I decided to go out and buy a pair of Avia shoes is beyond me. I suppose it was the pretty "sale" sign that clouded my judgement. Well, I wore them around the house and hated them. Back they went and I brought home a nice new pair of Nike running shoes.
I know what you’re thinking. Running shoes, Chrissy? Isn’t that a little ambitious?
Well, yes it is, my friends, but this is my fantasy, so shut it.
I headed to the gym last night, sporting an extra spring in my step, courtesy of Nike. I went much later than usual so it was easy to snag a treadmill since there weren’t many people there. As I stretched, I sized up my gym mates.
Two treadmills to the right was a large man wearing one of those silver sauna sweat suits. I’ve seen them in magazines but I’ve never actually seen anyone wear one in person. I would imagine that the fabric is nylon, as they tout the benefits of “sweating your way to a slimmer you”.
Sure, if you don’t pass out and die first. So far, Mr. Silverman looked like he was going to make it as he walked at a regular pace.
To my left, facing the opposite wall was a very large woman wearing white. White calf length pants, white shoes and a white top over her white sports bra. And she was jogging. I thought to myself, If she can do it, so can I!
Scattered around the room were some senior citizens up past their bedtime and some younger guys who were probably the ones who drove Grandma and Grandpa to the Y.
They limit you to 30 minutes on each piece of equipment so I started walking at a faster pace than normal to warm up because I wanted to start alternately jogging and walking tonight.
Since it was dark out, when I looked ahead, all I could see was the reflective image of myself in the mosaic of condensation and cracked glass that the fitness room’s windows provided. It was likely my shadowy silhouette that lulled me into thinking I actually looked pretty good when I started to jog. My new sports bra was keeping the girls in place and my yoga pants gave my legs a really lean look.
I glanced to my right, Keep going, Mr. Silverman, and all this could be yours someday.
I was feeling pretty impressed with myself when a tiny slip of a thing sauntered up to the treadmill between me and Mr. Silverman. She was probably about 25 years old, 5'3, cute as a button and skinny, even though she was wearing two layers of clothing. She started out walking so I, of course, had to continue jogging to show her up.
Game on, honey!
I realized I had pushed my limits when I felt the first bit of vomit coming up my throat so I opted to slow down to a brisk walk. As I gasped to catch my breath, Miss Tiny started to jog. I glanced over and disgustedly noticed that her ass was keeping pace with the rest of her body unlike mine that bounced uncontrollably wondering what the hell was happening.
Once again, I got the bright idea to start jogging. I increased the speed and hoped there was no one on the machines behind me to witness this.
Let's do this, chicky!
I looked at Miss Tiny's reflection in the window because it seemed rude to stare right at her. I saw her reflection unzip her hoodie and remove it to reveal a long sleeved tee. I had to look. It was like staring at the sun. I knew I should look away, but I couldn't. She had barely a glisten on her face while I worried that I might have splashed some sweat her way when I turned my head.
How do you not sweat?? It doesn't matter. I'll just keep going.
Five pathetic minutes later, I slowed to a walk again and Miss Tiny removed her long sleeved tee to reveal her perfectly petite body running like a gazelle in a racerback bra top. You heard that right.
It's a bra.
It's a top.
Crap.
Game over.
I did it!
Saturday, February 18, 2012
I finally moved.
Sort of....
A little background for some of my newer readers. I lost both of my parents in the last year and a half and they left their home to my sister and I. We weren't really ready to sell it so I decided to buy out Lisa, move into it and rent mine out. It's got more space and since mine is pretty updated already, I figured it would be easier to rent and then sell when the market turns.
Mom died last March and it's been a long emotional road to get here. The first thing was clearing out their house and deciding what to keep, sell or donate. I did it all myself because Lisa just couldn't bring herself to even set foot in the house. I rolled up the oriental rugs, refinished the floors and painted the walls so it no longer looks like 1970 when you walk in. I'll have to take some pictures to show you once I'm settled.
Friday, the 17th was scheduled as my moving day but I guess I waited too long to set up the transfer of my TV and internet because I'm now sitting in the office of my otherwise empty house, writing this post because I won't have internet until February 29!! Originally, they gave me a mid March date for installation but since I threatened to go to another provider, they were suddenly able to find me a sooner date.
I'm sure I'll be much more productive with unpacking since I won't have any distractions but it was so weird to be there last night without a TV or computer. I was ready to go to sleep at 7:30!
Instead of hiring movers, Manly Man helped me. Remember Manly Man? I met him in 2009 when he was separated but he (OF COURSE) went back to his wife. He's a firefighter and as many firefighters do, he has a side business as a handy man so I've used him for jobs around the house in the last few years and my sister, Lisa, has too.
There's still an attraction between us but, alas....he's just my Eldon and I'm his Murphy Brown. The best I can do is take furtive pictures of him on my camera phone and later fantasize about him.
I better go finish fantasizing unpacking now.
Sort of....
A little background for some of my newer readers. I lost both of my parents in the last year and a half and they left their home to my sister and I. We weren't really ready to sell it so I decided to buy out Lisa, move into it and rent mine out. It's got more space and since mine is pretty updated already, I figured it would be easier to rent and then sell when the market turns.
Mom died last March and it's been a long emotional road to get here. The first thing was clearing out their house and deciding what to keep, sell or donate. I did it all myself because Lisa just couldn't bring herself to even set foot in the house. I rolled up the oriental rugs, refinished the floors and painted the walls so it no longer looks like 1970 when you walk in. I'll have to take some pictures to show you once I'm settled.
Friday, the 17th was scheduled as my moving day but I guess I waited too long to set up the transfer of my TV and internet because I'm now sitting in the office of my otherwise empty house, writing this post because I won't have internet until February 29!! Originally, they gave me a mid March date for installation but since I threatened to go to another provider, they were suddenly able to find me a sooner date.
I'm sure I'll be much more productive with unpacking since I won't have any distractions but it was so weird to be there last night without a TV or computer. I was ready to go to sleep at 7:30!
Instead of hiring movers, Manly Man helped me. Remember Manly Man? I met him in 2009 when he was separated but he (OF COURSE) went back to his wife. He's a firefighter and as many firefighters do, he has a side business as a handy man so I've used him for jobs around the house in the last few years and my sister, Lisa, has too.
There's still an attraction between us but, alas....he's just my Eldon and I'm his Murphy Brown. The best I can do is take furtive pictures of him on my camera phone and later fantasize about him.
 |
| Here he is carrying me into the house so he can have his way with me. What do you mean, that's not what you see? Close your eyes and try again. |
 |
| Here he is, naked, and reaching for something in the pantry. |
Monday Morning Dino
Monday, February 13, 2012
Read amazing stories about people with these titles.
Okay, this one requires some background. I left a pile of clean laundry on the chair and when I came home, Dino was wearing my underwear. It was completely wrapped around him and I have no idea how he did this. Unless he had some help....
"Where were you Vinny?? I told you she would be home soon. I can't get these things off myself!"
"I don't know what you're talking about. Millie, do you know what he's talking about?"
Focus group wanted
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Hi Guys!
In September, I told you all about my new project, MyWeightMakeover.com. It's been a slow start getting my focus directed on it but I've been working with this awesome guy, Timothy at Operation Enterprise. He worked through the web design with me and is now helping me to focus on SEO web content.
As you may recall, I started the website because of my obsession with dieting. In my quest for the perfect bod, I LOVE looking at before and after pictures of people and reading about how they did it.
So I set the site up as a place for people to post their stories and photos to share with others. I also write articles for it and have added a community forum where people can support each other during their journey.
I see my web traffic increasing but people aren't becoming engaged. They come, they read a few articles, they go. We're currently working on re-doing the profile registration so that people can sign up even if they're just getting started or maybe are too shy to post their pics.
This is where I reach out to you, my dear readers, to help me determine what people might be looking for to make them feel like they're part of a "community" or just make them want to come back more than once.
I'm not looking to become a Facebook for weight loss. Well, not right away....That requires deep pockets of which my pockets have deep holes.
But I truly believe the concept is great. I know it's something that I always looked for and was never able to find. Here are some general questions for you:
Would you be willing to post your pics and info?
If so, to what degree? Just pounds lost or before and after stats? Too much info?
How active are you in other forums? What draws you in and keeps you coming back? The information or the relationships you develop in that "community"?
Would you be interested in having your own personal blog on a community site where you could post your progress?
I would LOVE any and all feedback you're willing to share. I'll tell you what...in lieu of payment, I would give you future stock shares in the company. Can you say IPO?
In September, I told you all about my new project, MyWeightMakeover.com. It's been a slow start getting my focus directed on it but I've been working with this awesome guy, Timothy at Operation Enterprise. He worked through the web design with me and is now helping me to focus on SEO web content.
As you may recall, I started the website because of my obsession with dieting. In my quest for the perfect bod, I LOVE looking at before and after pictures of people and reading about how they did it.
So I set the site up as a place for people to post their stories and photos to share with others. I also write articles for it and have added a community forum where people can support each other during their journey.
I see my web traffic increasing but people aren't becoming engaged. They come, they read a few articles, they go. We're currently working on re-doing the profile registration so that people can sign up even if they're just getting started or maybe are too shy to post their pics.
This is where I reach out to you, my dear readers, to help me determine what people might be looking for to make them feel like they're part of a "community" or just make them want to come back more than once.
I'm not looking to become a Facebook for weight loss. Well, not right away....That requires deep pockets of which my pockets have deep holes.
But I truly believe the concept is great. I know it's something that I always looked for and was never able to find. Here are some general questions for you:
Would you be willing to post your pics and info?
If so, to what degree? Just pounds lost or before and after stats? Too much info?
How active are you in other forums? What draws you in and keeps you coming back? The information or the relationships you develop in that "community"?
Would you be interested in having your own personal blog on a community site where you could post your progress?
I would LOVE any and all feedback you're willing to share. I'll tell you what...in lieu of payment, I would give you future stock shares in the company. Can you say IPO?
Monday Morning Millie
Monday, February 6, 2012
"Scarlett and her drapery dress got nuthin' on me and my ballerina tutu babushka."
Secondhand Sunday
Sunday, February 5, 2012
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.
"I knew it!"
Original Post Date, April 23, 2010
So you know how I've been lamenting over the fact that I've gained 30+ pounds in the last year, right?
And how my sister insists that it's perimenopause?
And how I'm sure that I'm NOT perimenopausal but that there must be something beyond my control physiologically that's causing this?
Well, I was finally able to get into an endocrinologist this week to see what might be going on. She asked me a series of questions:
1. Are you fatigued often? Yep.
2. Do you have trouble sleeping? Nope. Just waking up.
3. Any excess body hair? Well, I'm Armenian so this must be a trick question.
She ordered bloodwork to test my hormones, pituitary gland and thyroid. Thanks to McAfee, our computers have been down for 24 hours but I was able to get a copy of my test results to look over.
Now, keep in mind, I work in administration at a hospital. I'm not a doctor and I don't pretend to be one. However, I do have access to Google so I'm able to self diagnose virtually every disease I've ever had.
Here are some examples:
Symptoms - July, 2008
Pressure like chest pain radiating to my left arm
Clammy sweating
Rapid heartbeat and palpitations
Inability to catch my breath.
Self diagnosis: HEART ATTACK
Actual diagnosis by Emergency room physician: PANIC ATTACK
Symptoms - January, 2009
Fever
Rash
Exhaustion
Muscle aches
Pain when urinating
Self-diagnosis: HIV
Actual diagnosis: BLADDER INFECTION
Symptoms - September, 2009
New growth on neck, dark and asymmetrical in shape
Raised texture to the touch
Found after spending a great deal of time outdoors in the summer
Self diagnosis: SKIN CANCER
Actual diagnosis: PIECE OF CHOCOLATE SHELL COATING FROM DIPPED ICE CREAM CONE
Okay, so maybe I haven't been 100% accurate, but this time I'm feeling pretty confident.
I've evaluated my hormone levels. I've also looked at the normal versus overactive percentile ranges for pituitary activity and come to a conclusion.
Self diagnosis: I'M PREGNANT.
Behold and rejoice the Second Coming!
Or...maybe I just have gas. I'll let you know what the doc says today.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"I knew it!"
Original Post Date, April 23, 2010
So you know how I've been lamenting over the fact that I've gained 30+ pounds in the last year, right?
And how my sister insists that it's perimenopause?
And how I'm sure that I'm NOT perimenopausal but that there must be something beyond my control physiologically that's causing this?
Well, I was finally able to get into an endocrinologist this week to see what might be going on. She asked me a series of questions:
1. Are you fatigued often? Yep.
2. Do you have trouble sleeping? Nope. Just waking up.
3. Any excess body hair? Well, I'm Armenian so this must be a trick question.
She ordered bloodwork to test my hormones, pituitary gland and thyroid. Thanks to McAfee, our computers have been down for 24 hours but I was able to get a copy of my test results to look over.
Now, keep in mind, I work in administration at a hospital. I'm not a doctor and I don't pretend to be one. However, I do have access to Google so I'm able to self diagnose virtually every disease I've ever had.
Here are some examples:
Symptoms - July, 2008
Pressure like chest pain radiating to my left arm
Clammy sweating
Rapid heartbeat and palpitations
Inability to catch my breath.
Self diagnosis: HEART ATTACK
Actual diagnosis by Emergency room physician: PANIC ATTACK
Symptoms - January, 2009
Fever
Rash
Exhaustion
Muscle aches
Pain when urinating
Self-diagnosis: HIV
Actual diagnosis: BLADDER INFECTION
Symptoms - September, 2009
New growth on neck, dark and asymmetrical in shape
Raised texture to the touch
Found after spending a great deal of time outdoors in the summer
Self diagnosis: SKIN CANCER
Actual diagnosis: PIECE OF CHOCOLATE SHELL COATING FROM DIPPED ICE CREAM CONE
Okay, so maybe I haven't been 100% accurate, but this time I'm feeling pretty confident.
I've evaluated my hormone levels. I've also looked at the normal versus overactive percentile ranges for pituitary activity and come to a conclusion.
Self diagnosis: I'M PREGNANT.
Behold and rejoice the Second Coming!
Or...maybe I just have gas. I'll let you know what the doc says today.
Stripper Chick Wisdom
Thursday, February 2, 2012
 | Check out these healthy living mags with free shipping. |
Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.
"Let's all take a lesson from Demi, ladies over 40. Do your self esteem a favor. Only date older men with macular degeneration.
And hide their car keys."
Public Service Announcement
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
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!
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.
Monday Morning Millie
Monday, January 30, 2012
Stripper Chick Wisdom
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
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."
Secondhand Sunday
Sunday, January 22, 2012
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.
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!
Thursday, January 19, 2012
You know I'm obsessed with Toddlers & Tiaras. This is way too funny. Enjoy!
Go ahead, make my day
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
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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.
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