My Next Boyfriend Part 2 (Electric Boogaloo!)

After hearing the news that President-elect Obama is kind of a picky eater, I decided to update my list of what my next boyfriend will be.

My next boyfriend will NOT be a picky eater!!!!!

I hate men who are picky eaters yet I always seem to end up with them. They are no fun to go out to eat with. And forget about cooking for them!

My ex-husband wouldn't touch seafood. There he sat at some of the finest seafood joints the West Coast had to offer... eating steak. He couldn't even get that one right because he ordered it well done. Ugh! Why not just chew on a leather shoe?

My live-in ex-boyfriend had issues with his food touching. He would order Chinese food but eat the rice separately. I once bought him one of those plates for little kids with the separate compartments. My joke went awry when he actually started using it.

My favorite was a guy that I once went on a date with to a Mexican restaurant. I noticed he barely touched his meal so I asked if everything tasted okay. He said that he was upset about his choice of a chicken and cheese quesadilla. What were all these pesky peppers and onions doing in it? His bright idea was that is should have been advertised as a chicken, cheese, onion and pepper quesadilla. False advertising, dammit!

Did I mention that was our first and only date?

I am not a picky eater (the size of my hips can attest to this) so men who freak out about food perplex me. I am not fond of either carrot cake or mustard. But if I were a guest at some one's house who served mustard braised chicken followed by carrot cake for desert, I could manage. I will try anything once. Bad Wolf and I once went on a culinary binge at a street fair where we sampled everything from Polish food to cow brain burgers. Desert? Chocolate covered grasshoppers.

Well, except for pickles. Those things are just nasty! If one even touches my sandwich, I consider it tainted. Try as I might to get over this, I still retch at the mere smell of a pickle.

*** I have to give a shout-out to CKD for dredging up the memory of Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo from the dark recesses of my mind. Thanks to you, anything second in a series will now be referred to as Electic Boogaloo!

City Mouse In The Country

I adore my new town. There is relatively no traffic (although I do find myself yelling at the slow drivers. Hellloooo... I have to have something to road rage about!) It is a picturesque town with easy access to the ocean and the White Oak River. It has beautiful sunrises and sunsets. I am constantly amazed when people chit-chat in the stores. When I lived in the DC area, I could conduct a purchase of a loaded grocery cart without the cashier even bothering to grunt out a hello. People here talk about everything from the weather to family to what was on TV last night. It is a very relaxed and charming change of pace for me.

Having said that, there are things in this town of just over 900 residents that make me laugh. I once had a Taco Bell craving at about 9:15 PM so I jumped in my car for the quick drive only to discover that it was closed. How the hell can you have the so-called "4th Meal" when it closes at 9 PM!!?!?! The streets definitely roll up early around here.

The best is this conversation I overheard Walgreens:

Little old lady: Do you sell milk here?

Clerk: Yes, ma'am. Lowest price in town.

Heh! Too bad "in town" consists of Walgreens, Lowes Food grocery store and two gas stations! Not a great deal of competition.

Play Free Bird, Man!

Here is the latest addition to my tattoo collection. Upon hearing the news, my mom sighed heavily and started praying that her daughter wasn't headed towards circus life as the amazing tattooed lady. (In my defense, I only have 4!) Since mom is already exasperated with me, I can't post a picture of just where it is on my body since it would require me to be in my bra (right ribcage so just use your imagination).
So... what does it represent? It is my very own free bird. In honor of my 30th birthday, I decided that a bird taking flight would be indicative of me embracing this new decade. That's right... the girl who vowed to spend her 30th birthday curled up in the fetal position, drinking vodka and ignoring her "well-wishing" friends' phone calls has now turned coat and is relishing her 30s.
Mom just wishes that I had chosen a less permanent way to celebrate!