The good news: I appear to be a fairly balanced person... at least according to my personality profile results.
The shocking news: I actually got accepted. Eharmony's founder is Neil Clark Warren, an evangelical Christian who won't even let gays apply for eharmony. I was pretty sure my agnostic, divorced self was going to be denied.
The bad news: My inbox has been flooded with eharmony emails. You have a match! We will help you find love! Chuck from Havelock requests "guided communication" (huh?!?!) Just pay $147 for a six month membership.
The weird news: I don't think I am really ready for a serious relationship. The idea of a relationship started via the internet makes me break out in hives.
fancy-pants artisan bread $4.21
pesto sauce $4.59
grape tomatoes $5.09
fancy-pants mozzeralla $6.78
fresh basil $3.75 +
TOO MUCH DAMN $$$$$
Not to mention the time it would take to prepare and assemble this recipe. Screw that! I came up with Plan B.
Along with a new base color and highlights, the girls in the shop offered up advice on local bars and clubs. What more can you ask for? I love one-stop shopping!
** SPOILER ALERT** (Although if you haven't see the movie yet, why are you reading this??? We probably aren't friends anyways.)
I was not in a great mindset the first time I watched the Sex and the City movie. I went to see it with the live-in girlfriend of the guy I had been seeing just days after I broke the news to her that the guy she had moved across the country to be with was a cheating bastard. Yeah... you read that last sentence correctly. Needless to say, there was more drama going on off-screen and neither of us were too open to the dirtbag antics of the men in the movie.
I wasn't very quiet in the movie theater. When Big stood Carrie up at the wedding, I snorted my disapproval. I actually shouted "Bullshit!" when Steve told Miranda that he cheated on her because they hadn't had sex in a long time. And when I realized that Miranda was going to go ahead and meet Steve on the bridge, I started yelling "Don't do it, girl!" I know Christen was ready to stuff me under the seat.
Miranda has always been my favorite character, although I cursed the writers the last few seasons when they saddled her with a whiny-ass slacker bartender and a kid. Seriously? Miranda was a Harvard educated attorney and the best they could come up with for her was Steve?
I was in Target the other day, and noticed that the movie was now out on DVD. Since I own all the seasons of the show, I decided to round out my collection and give the movie another chance.
I must admit, the movie was much better this time around. Yeah... the wedding scene still makes me cringe from how raw the emotion is. I still hate Steve and think his affair is bullshit but this time I noticed how happy Miranda's face was on the bridge. She learned to forgive and seemed like be ready to move on to a better stage of her relationship with Steve. The strength of all the womens' friendships and how they supported each other through hearbreak and happiness stood out to me much more with this viewing. And that is what was always the backbone of the show.
Having said that... I still would have left that bastard Steve standing alone on the bridge. Dirtbag!
Mom called last night to make sure all was well. A brief snippet:
Mom: I saw that you have some pretty high winds down there.
Me: Yeah, it makes driving fun. I almost got blown off the road a few times.
Mom: Well, hunker down. Try staying off the beach. The riptides are going to be pretty strong. Just in case, you know, you get the urge to go skinny-dipping again.
(insert a few seconds of awkward silence as I try not to choke on my plum wine. Candace later comments on the lovely shade of green I turned at that moment.)
Mom: You know... I do read your blog, dear.
Heh heh... ummmm... hi mom!
Let me start this blog post with a warning: Candace and I are enjoying a bottle (or 2) of plum wine with our sushi this evening. My normal writing skills might be a little impaired.
Allow me to present the latest addition to the island: Josh Holloway (aka Sawyer) from LOST. I usually don't care for dirty rednecks but I will make a major exception for this type of perfection. This man is gorgeous. The abs, the dimples, the hair begging to have my fingers running through it, the crystal eyes, the jawline... and did I mention the abs?
We already know how well this man fairs on an island anyways so he will fit right in on ours, no nasty plane crash necessary. Welcome to the island, Josh Holloway.
Him: You aren't retired military like the rest of the instructors, are you, ma'am?
Me: No. I just did one tour in the Army and have been a contractor ever since.
Him: Figures... all the pretty girls are in the Army.
Me: Make sure you put your name and information on the roster.
Him: Okay... but I don't know my unit's duty phone number.
Me: That's fine. Just put the name of your unit in that block. We'll make sure you get credit.
Him: Maybe I should just put my cell number there... for you... so... you can like call me... you know... if you wanted to... ma'am.
I am not sure if I should be flattered or horrified that a 19 year old managed to hit on me and call me ma'am in the same sentence. I think these kids have watched too many repeats of "Top Gun". Well, I am no Kelly McGillis (although the fishnets stockings she rocked in her classroom were the shit!)
Come to think of it, that kid has probably never even seen "Top Gun" since it came out before he was even born. Pardon me while I go cry in to my Bloody Mary.
Psssssst: I have to admit... it was kind of sweet and my head barely fit through the door for the rest of the day.
Scientists say that everyone has a twin. Apparently mine is right here in this area. Last week, I was intercepted at the local grocery store by a woman asking me how my kids and husband were. When I told her that I wasn't who she thought I was, she didn't seem to believe me and might of even gotten offended. A few days later, when I opened the door for the cable lady, she exclaimed "Girl... when did you move out here?" Last night I stopped by a local bar where several of the patrons mistook me for her.
From what I have gathered, my doppelganger's name is Kelly and she lives out on Emerald Isle. I just hope she isn't a skank and doesn't owe anyone any money! Funny thing is, I bet we don't even look that much alike.... but it would still be interesting to meet her.
I hated frat boys in college. I only went to their damn parties for the free booze. As I sipped my Pabst Blue Ribbon in a smokey corner surrounded by grunting drones in pukka shell necklaces and Abercrombie cargo shorts, I kept telling myself that someday I would be out in the real world with real men whose life's ambition couldn't be found at the bottom of a beer bong.
Fast forward almost a decade to discover that the guys really haven't changed much. There is a another breed stalking poor unsuspecting women in bars. The Aging Frat Boy still roams in packs. They still tell fart jokes and quote Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller movies with glee. And they still wear those damn pukka shell necklaces and cargo shorts!
But that isn't the worst part. They never reach for their wallets when the bill comes; dates usually end in a half-ass offer to go Dutch. That is, if they even plan an actual date anyways; most of the time it comes down to "Why don't you come over and watch a movie?" (ladies... we all know what that is frat boy-ese for.) When this is all pointed out, they usually fall back on the old stand by of "Well, isn't this what you womens' libbers wanted?" Okay... where is the mens' lib then? If women are becoming more self-sufficient and taking over traditional male roles, why do the men throw temper tantrums and accuse you of emasculation when asked to be more compassionate and caring? I don't want to have to bring home the proverbial bacon, fry it up in the pan and then spend an hour cleaning the kitchen afterward while an aged frat boy sits on the couch playing the latest version of World of Warcraft.
Thanks, but no thanks. Dear Readers... I offer you a glimpse in to my future:
There is such a dark undercurrent running through this ad that makes my liberal heart go all aflutter. Spelling Africa with a K? It is a shout out to Afrikaners, or white colonial Africans. Throw in the lily white model "seductively" posing in tribal prints... seriously, this is so yucky! I really wish American Apparel would just take their ads and go away.
Funny thing about this guy: I only love him when he is bleach blonde, wearing a leather trench coat (or no shirt at all!) and speaking in a snarly British accent. I have seen the actor James Marsters in other things but his real life Northern California accent and brown hair just don't do it for me. Sorry James but Spike is the only one sucking on my neck.
Q: Have you finished unpacking?
A: I still have some boxes here and there but the bulk of it is done.
Q: How's the new job?
A: Ehhhh. I got thrown a curve ball when I discovered that I was expected to fill a different position than what I was told. Most of the people are nice but my immediate office hasn't exactly rolled out the welcome mat for me. It is full of former infantry guys. Maybe they aren't used to a woman... or maybe they are just dicks.
Q: Have you been to the beach?
A: Not during the day yet but I did manage a nocturnal skinny dip while at an after party last Saturday.
Q: Eaten any good seafood yet?
A: Shrimp burgers, shrimp and grits... I am starting to sound like Bubba Gump here.
Q: Have you met anyone interesting?
A: I may have found myself someone to crush on. And he flirts back!!!!!
David Boreanaz, who played Angel on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the spinoff Angel. I mean,yowza! Words aren't really needed are they? He may not have the accent Spike has but he did have a soul and a really nice smile:
He can suck my, well, let's just say he's going to need all the energy he can get.
See Roadtripper wasn't lying when she said I was a Beatles fanatic. The best part is I do own a turntable to play the album on. The earrings are made from Guinness bottle caps! and an old key I will be making into a necklace. It was a nice waste of an afternoon. Did go to The Celtic Crossing, an Irish restaurant/pub there and was not impressed. Just because you serve Guinness on tap and play U2 on the sound system does not make you Irish. They had no Strongbow (which yes I realize is English not Irish but all good Irish pubs I have been to have it) and their fish and chips? Not that good.
One other good find from the weekend? The book: Other People's Love Letters edited by Bill Shapiro. Just happened across it at Barnes and Nobles (my second home) and got it on a whim. It is composed, as the title obviously implies, of real love letters written by other people. Some of the letters are funny, some are sweet, some are angry, and some are heartbreaking, as is the end which gives updates to some of the letters. An utter romantic with a pragmatic heart, it gave me hope and is a pleasant way to while away an afternoon. Hopefully Roadtripper will get her cable up soon, one of us has got to be the fun one on here.
Things I have learned to love at my parents' house:
- My mom is a kickass cook. I have been spoiled with pork tenderloin, crawfish quiche and other goodies all week long. She would even made a plate and warm it up for me on the nights when I came in late. Mom just had a Wegmans open up down the street from her house that awakened her inner gourmand so she is all about incorporating the latest sheep cheese or spinach focaccia she picked up in to her cooking. Quite a change from my usual dinner of Lean Cuisine and Cheez-Its.
- The ultra-soft down comforter on the guest bed. Seriously... this thing is like sleeping enveloped in the clouds.
- The companionship of the coolest dog in the world. Breed? A snorting, wiggling pug. Name? Ouiser Boudreaux, of course. Can you tell who named her? She was my dog for the first 5 months but my parents adopted her when my life got too busy. Ouiser is the quirkiest yet sweetest dog in the world and makes the best cuddle buddy you could ever find. Just look at this face...
Resistance is futile!
I am going to be off the grid for a few days. I am heading back down to North Carolina around 1 PM tomorrow. My cable hookup at the new place isn't until Wednesday, so unless I can find Wi-Fi access somewhere, you won't hear from me for awhile. No worries because Bad Wolf can hold it down in my absence. See y'all later!
I love, love, love Erica Jong's book* "Fear of Flying". The book came out in 1973 but is still relevant and a little titillating even now in 2008. Imagine my joy to read a news bit this morning that "Fear of Flying" is being made in to a movie. Even better, the lead character of Isadora Wing might be played by either Kate Winslet or Maggie Gyllenhaal. Yay! This had better not suck... or have Miley Cyrus as the lead.
*If you haven't read it... run to your local library this instant! Every woman needs to read about the zipless fuck.
Even a Beatles fanatic such as myself can appreciate such a fine specimen; it helped moving to Memphis of course. I will just have to keep him away from the peanut butter and banana sandwiches, but I am sure I can think of something to keep him occupied. :)
We need a little musical talent on The Island so I am going to bring in the punk rocker that has made me swoon for years. I have the biggest school girl crush on Henry Rollins. He would hate the gushing accolades that I am about to unleash. Very un-punk, I know. But sometimes a girl can't help it... I love this man! I loved him during his Black Flag and Rollins Band days. I went ape shit when the video for "Liar" came out. Something about that cop uniform... and don't get me started on the Superman costume.
Nowadays, I think I love him just a little more with his evolution in to spoken word performances and his show on IFC (seriously... check the show out sometime... you will thank me.) You would think that aging tattooed punk rockers would look silly and irrelevant after awhile but Henry Rollins rocks the tats, muscles, grey hair and razor sharp wit with aplomb. Welcome to The Island, you tattooed silver fox!
But as you can see I am finally done (till I go home next and get more) and will be dropping them off at the bank soon, so you should be hearing more from me. Especially if the Colts don't start playing well! Ciao for now, until tomorrow's delicious island pick.
It is raining here today. It is chilly and traffic is bad. All I want to do is lock myself indoors and drink hot toddys until the sun comes out again. I definitely don't want to run outside to make out with someone. It is hard to feel romantic when you're cold and have eye makeup running down your face.
I am not a cold-hearted cynic; I am just practical. My favorite onscreen kiss takes place in a dry train station, and still manages to turn me in to a pile of mush with each viewing. It is the last scene of BBC's "North & South", starring Richard Armitage. Yes, my chosen king on the Island.
Harlequin romance novels cribbed all their material from Austen and Gaskell so this story will sound familiar: Girl from South meets boy from North. They hate each other. Boy starts liking girl. Girl snubs boy. Girl regrets her snub and starts liking boy. Misunderstandings keep them apart. Girl gets on a train to head North to profess her love but he isn't there. Boy is down South looking for girl. They meet at the train station as they are heading back to their respective homes. Boy gives girl a flower that he just picked from her favorite garden in the South while looking for her. Apologies are made and misunderstandings cleared while boy takes girl's hand.
Girl picks up boy's hand and kisses it. Very racy for the time! Next thing you know, she'll flash a little ankle.
Boy leans in for the big one. Does that whole cupping her face with his hand thing. I am such a sucker for that move.
Boy takes his sweet time. Lots of deep eye locks and trembling lips but he manages to seal the deal. The photos don't do it justice. It is a hot scene!
See! Who needs cold, sloppy kisses in the rain? This is how it's done.
"Just so u know after 4 combat tours u r the worst thing ever happened to me."
Hmmmm.... guess he is still holding a grudge because I outed him to the poor girl who moved across the country to be with him. I hope he is reading this now so he knows that I think he is a joke. Did he think I would curl up in the fetal position and cry myself to sleep because he hates me now? Nice try, dirtbag, but I rejoice in the fact that you are lying in that lonely proverbial bed that you made for yourself. Thanks for the compliment... now go away!
Luckily we made it all in one piece (slight diversion in Goldsboro with a GPS malfunction and an irrate father who doesn't understand that you need to quit driving circles around a traffic cloverleaf at 70 mph when the device is trying to recalculate your postition) and were welcomed to my new abode with no rain and only some wind. Good news: nothing broken! My super volunteers and I even had time post-move-in Saturday to enjoy some fried seafood followed by an Irish pub. My mom had her first glass of Guinness (and seemed to enjoy it, I am happy to report!)
Thanks to my moving crew for a job well done. Having said that, I think I will hire professional movers next time. This crap is way too much work!
But before becoming a social diva, I need to survive this move. I pick up the moving truck first thing tomorrow and will spend all day lugging furniture and boxes in to it. The plan is to leave early Saturday morning to head down to NC... but Tropical Storm Hanna is threatening the Carolina coast. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
Any residue you see on the inside of the glass is Guiness, drink of the Gods that is. So don't forget to do what the glass says: vote come November, and remember life is too short to drink bad beer!
Within the first 10 minutes, they brought out the big guns with the drunk grandma as the reason for the fish out of water family to relocate to Beverly Hills from Kansas. Yay! I love Long Island Ice Tea swilling grandmas. Even better when they are aged Hollywood starlets writing their memiors about all the men they've had sex with. My friend Christen tells me the same actress played "the mean matriarch from Arrested Development" so expect all kinds of wacky hijinks from her.
They better not kill her off!
Now I know he is not the typical "hottie" but I am not your typical gal. I do take it as a compliment when I am called a snob but also when I am called a geek. I watch and read a lot of sc-fi and fantasy. Lately, I have been on a big Doctor Who kick (if you haven't watched it, get thee to Netflix and put it in your queue now!). The main reason: David Tennant, the current Doctor. I love a man who looks good in glasses, and do tend do go for those named David (more on that in a future post). He may be a bit on the skinny side but has enough smarts, geeky charm, humor, and versatility to more than make up for it. Oh, and did I mention that he is Scottish? A Scottish/Irish/Welsh/English accent always gets to me too. Hoo-boy!
Welcome to the island, David. Just don't forget your sonic screwdriver.