19 September 2011

Do As I Say Not As I Do

Current mood: inspired

Pardon the way that I stare
There’s nothing else to compare
The sight of you leaves me weak
There are no words left to speak
~ “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” by Frankie Valli & the Four Season

Last night I saw the traveling Broadway show, “Jersey Boys”. It was a phenomenal show. Not only was the musical amazing, but the dialogue and the acting were beyond entertaining. I felt like I was actually in their story, following their journey. It was remarkable!!
I also went on a first “meet” with someone this weekend. For those of you who do not know . . . I have been online dating, for amusement and to hopefully meet some nice people with whom I enjoy spending time. Saturday’s first “meet” was probably the most interesting one I have had thus far, based on the debacle that it became with NO ASSISTANCE from me. Lol To preface, my online profile is pretty clear with regards to what I am looking for:

MY RELATIONSHIP NEEDS: I have not taken the "relationship needs test" because I know what I need: a non-smoker with nice teeth, who displays a sense of humour, won't get drunk in public when we're together, opens doors for women, and is more physically fit than me.
That should set the stage for what we are about to relive. . . together. . . ready?

Saturday morning I receive a phone call and a text from this guy from an online dating site who has been corresponding with me for a few weeks. He works long hours and has 5 or 6 pictures on his site that show him hanging out with friends, golfing, on vacation, etc. He looks professional, normal, and he is 30, which is pretty grown up for my dating preference. LOL

So, “HuskerFan” asks me what I am doing for the game, as he would like me to join him and his friends at a local watering hole to watch the game. Since I was working, I said that I would see what time it was after our last appointment and would get back to him. I inquired whether his friends would think it was odd that he invited a girl to hang out with them who he had never met and he said, “No, they are already pretty drunk.” To which I rapidly fired back, “And how drunk are you?” He responded that he wasn’t drinking yet, as he was going to be driving. That sounded responsible and I got back to work.

Fast forward to game time. I was leaving work and I texted “HuskerFan” to find out where they were. He told me the name of the location, which is close to my place, so I headed over there. When I arrived, I walked past the rather loud and boisterous smokers outside and entered the bar. (Did you catch that foreshadowing? If not, re-read the prior statement.) The bar is pretty small and there are only a dozen or so people inside. I look around and do not see “HuskerFan”. I call him and see a guy outside WHO IS SMOKING answer the phone. Bloody hell. I am already annoyed. But, good manners dictate that I am polite for 60 minutes. That is my own personal online dating rule. 60 minutes of politeness before I run.

I ordered a Sam Adams and “HuskerFan” and his friends put together a couple of tables. We all sat down to watch the game. I sat next to “HuskerFan” and “Friend #2”s wife, who is very nice. She is talking about her kindergartner and “HuskerFan” is laughing about a picture she made him that is on his refrigerator. I started to soften my outlook on things, until “Friend #1” throws a phone at him and says, “Hey, you have 21 missed calls.” I hear “HuskerFan” mutter “that bitch” under his breath, before he looks down at his once-again-vibrating phone. And he answers. I am doing my best to ignore his conversation and continue talking to the wife; but it is difficult since the conversation has gotten rather loud and I couldn’t ignore him saying, “Don’t you get it? I hate you. Stop calling me. You cannot keep doing this. 21 missed calls in an hour? Really? I don’t want to talk to you, you stupid whore.” Then he slammed the phone onto the table and walked to the bar for a shot.

Oh wow! Okay. . . I am watching the clock tick down and figure that leaving at halftime would be the most sensible time to leave and the least noticeable. So I wait patiently as the refs call for a tv timeout, wishing that I were anywhere else. The wife at this point was doing all she could to keep the situation comfortable. She asked how long I had known “HuskerFan” and I said this was a first meet. Then the gloves came off. She very carefully and quietly did what all women should do in this situation. . . she told me to run away fast. She said that he was a nice guy but way too much drama, a drinking problem, and that since I had nothing invested I should bail at halftime and not look back. LOL The whole time she is speaking in an undertone so her husband doesn’t hear.

I look up to see “HuskerFan” pacing by the pool tables, on the phone AGAIN, yelling, though I couldn’t understand him. “Friend #1” looks at me and asks if I am leaving at Half-time, since my purse is in hand and there are 30 seconds left on the clock. I said, “yeah, I think I should go.”, with a hint of laughter in my voice. He said he figured as much but that it was a pleasure to meet me and that he was impressed I stayed as long as I did. As I got up to leave, “HuskerFan” returned to the table, with another shot in hand. I said, “Hey, thanks for inviting me, I gotta go.” He just shook his head and wouldn’t even look at me. . “K, bye” he mumbled. I walked out of the bar, trying not to laugh until I was out of sight of the windows. I hopped in LUCIUS and drove home, trying to brand the day in my head so that I could write this story for you. 

This valuable lesson cost me 3.50 for a beer, which I drank. It was well worth the trouble, as stories like this are difficult to come by if I just sit at home and take naps. I hope the entertainment value of this little tale promotes mirth and laughter! Go Team!

PERSONAL NOTE: I had a great time at Jersey Boys. Thank you for a lovely evening.

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Thank you for serving your country (and ours) in the same conflict. Hugs!

06 September 2011

Immeasurably Fascinating

current mood: dysfunctional

We can ride out in the darkness
Chasing the rising sun
We’ve got to pack our bags this instant
We’re heading Southbound to the next town
And if we arrive there so safely
Baby, you can lay me down.
~ “Lay Me Down” by Dirty Heads feat. Rome

How long has it been since I wrote something for your eyes? For public eyes at all, actually? Some of you know that I had another blog and that it was very different from this one. Well, I haven’t written in that one either. In fact, besides my HistoryinaFlash tweets, I have written very little. Even my letter-writing and card sending has gone to the wayside. Let me tell you, going to school and working full time and helping at the studio makes a girl tired. I use the word “girl” loosely, as my 35 year-old brain and body are rebelling against me on a daily basis. If not for a smart phone and a daily planner, I would be lost, wandering around the park wondering where I am supposed to actually be.
So much has happened since I last posted that it would be pointless to attempt to “fill you in”. Perhaps I can do it in 40 characters or less, like my history tweets. I shall try. . .

School; Work; Opera Guild; Detroit 3-day; TX; Toronto; AZx2; Girl Twin visit; online dating (don’t ask); time passed – not in that order!!
Gee, that was easier than I thought. I am sure I missed some things, but good enough. My dear friend, “OhioGenius”, sent me a new journal for my birthday. It is called “My Dysfunctions” and it is a hilarious, low pressure, journal that is supposed to inspire me to write about the things that make my life dysfunctional. I have written two pages. It is because I seem to have lost my muse. Beginning today, I will force myself to write on a page a day, even if it is to write the alphabet or song lyrics or the objects I see in the room. I have to do something to get my writing jumpstarted. And I am anti-electric shock therapy, as it will make my memory worse, not better.

A closing anecdote before I go for your amusement. Last night, “KatarinaSister” and I went to see the Blondie show. While there, we were privileged to stand behi nd two ladies, in their early 30s, I imagine, who are so amazing and sacred that they refuse to be touched at a concert, standing two feet from the front barricade. Every time someone touched them, they would give dirty looks and then complain to one another that they were getting jostled. Now, I realize concert goers in the Midwest do NOT like to be touched and it is often easy to move forward merely by pressing your arm against someone until they move out of self-preservation. These girls were over the top, though.

So, I did what any self-respecting general admission, floor navigating, concert guru would do. I kept as close to them as I possibly could. Their passive-aggressive behavior gave me such amusement that I had no issues jumping up and down and bumping them with my arms every chance I could. My sister nicknamed one “Quantum5” due to her darling spiral perm. Well, “Q5” really disliked me being behind her, so she moved so I could be almost beside her, which was so much better. LOL I waited for them to actually say anything to me so I could politely inform them that standard concert front row etiquette is that if you don’t want people touching you, then you need to move to the seats instead of taking up valuable real estate on the floor. I also wanted to whip out my “got within 5 feet of Trent Reznor at a NIN show in flip-flops” story. Unfortunately, they said nothing, so I could just gloat in my head. Go me!

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I don’t know what I am doing . . . but I hope it is working.

Eidetic Vision

Main Entry: ei·det·ic Pronunciation: I-'det-ik Function: adjective : marked by or involving extraordinarily accurate and vivid recall especially of visual images - an eidetic memory Merriam-Webster's Dictionary, © 2002 Merriam-Webster, Inc.