Who's Going To Pick Me For Their Kickball Team?

I got a response from that Meetup.com group that I requested membership to:

"Hello and thank you for your application to join Jacksonville women's
social group.
Please see our rules:
Upload a profile image of yourself, fill in your profile information and be
contactable by email.
Maintain membership by signing in bi-weekly.
No login after 1month = removal.
Members must attend 1 meetup within 2 months to maintain membership.
Turn 'maybes' into yes or no by the RSVP deadline.If not certain you can
attend, RSVP 'maybe'.
Check if the meetup invites guests & RSVP them.
If unable to attend after an RSVP of 'yes' email attending members &
call/text organizer ASAP. Unexplained no shows will have their membership
canceled.
The age bracket is 21 to 35. No exceptions.
You must presently reside in the Jacksonville area.
Refrain from pushing or discussing your religion & politics at our meetup's or through this website.
Your membership implies acceptance of the group rules and maybe canceled if
rules are broken.These rules can be updated as needed.
Your application is being decided upon by the group and we will let you know when we have finalized the decision."

Wow... seriously?!? I had a flashback to gym class where they line everyone up against the wall to pick teams. Or freshman year sorority rush. These women don't play around. Maybe I should have taken their membership form a little more seriously. When asked what I could contribute to the group, my response was that I make a mean Bloody Mary hangover cure that everyone would appreciate after a hard night of drinking. Oops!

Is it really this difficult to make friends these days? I think joining a cult would be easier!

There Has To Be A Form Of Therapy For This

This is the keep pile... and doesn't include all my flip-flops!

I am nose-deep in boxes now. The hardest part of the day was dragging my shoe collection in to the living room to sort through. I love my shoes. I actually found myself getting sentimental over some of them, even though they are certified torture devices. As an avid watcher of the Style Network's "Clean House", I followed their advice of taking pictures of beloved items that you are giving up so that you can always remember.


I've had these since 2000. I was in the Army stationed at Ft. Huachuca, AZ for AIT. After being stuck wearing only uniforms for several months, we had finally reached the stage of training where we were allowed to wear civilian clothes and go out on the weekends. I was at the mall with the guy I later ended up marrying when I saw these Steve Maddens on display. I actually let out a shriek of joy and almost mowed down an elderly lady to get to them. My ex just shook him head in disbelief... until he saw the $60 price tag and he freaked. That should have been the first sign on why I shouldn't have married him... and besides... they were on sale.

I paraded around in these shoes for several years. They are horribly uncomfortable. All the weight on the bottom is only supported by those thin straps on top, causing for horrible dig marks on the upper foot. The footbed is actually kind of pillow-like but that causes for a horrible hissing sound everytime you put your weight down.



I bought these while visiting Atlanta in 2004. I had found an awesome shirt to wear out to the Buckhead district that night but realized that I had only packed black shoes. These were picked up at Nine West despite the fact that they really are a half size too small. I somehow managed to get up on the bar at Coyote Ugly to dance with these things on. They are, by far, the most uncomfortable things I have ever forced my feet in to. I could barely walk the next day.


Another Nine West purchase that I wore to the Marine Corps Ball in 2004 with an ex-boyfriend. The ex-boyfriend was secretly a cross-dresser who actually tried on my dress the next day while I was at work and took a picture of himself all dolled up in drag. No ill will towards him (who now lives as a her and shall be addressed as she for the rest of this entry). I know she reads my blog so I will say this: no woman can get over seeing someone else looking better in her own dress. The shoes are a little tainted in my mind, even though she didn't have those on in the picture.

No matter how much I tried scuffing up the bottoms of this shoes, they remain super slick and almost send me flying. The heel on them is very skinny and wobbley. Not the easiest shoes to walk in. Plus they kind of make my ankles look fat.


A DSW find that I wore for New Years 2005. Two Army friends came to DC to party so we got all dolled up for a club. The big silly flowers attatched to the shoes can be blamed squarely on Carrie Bradshaw on Sex and the City. These were killing my feet before we even got to the Metro. Several drinks were spilled on them throughout the night, and I have never been successful at getting the stains out.

I had actually worn these sandals a few times before I incorporated them in to my Greek Goddess Halloween costume in Atlanta again in 2006. They are balanced weird. You always feel like you are tipping forwards while wearing them. Not a good combination when you have been drinking!

Next step in packing? My ridiculous purse collection.

Hoes Before Bros

How does one go about making new friends nowadays? After 5 years in Virginia, I am going to have to start from scratch and cultivate new friendships. When I was in college and the Army, making friends was so easy. You just moved in to your dorm/barracks room and walked down to the rec/day room. Everyone you worked with already had at least something in common with you so it was like an instant community.

The obvious answer would be to look for friends at my new job. I have worked with most of the people at our North Carolina office in the past. They are a nice and smart group of people but most of them are much older and married with children. Not exactly the type of people I can see myself going out to party with. Besides, most of them are men and I am looking for a new girl posse.

Conventional advice for making new friends is to join a church, volunteer or join other social groups. Since my religious beliefs put me firmly in the agnostic camp, I doubt I can find any religious groups that I would fit in to. The election this year does open up the opportunity to do some volunteer work that might be interesting so I won't count that out.

Somebody told me about Meetup.com which is like an online bulletin board for clubs in your area. At first, I was reluctant because it just sounded like online dating but for friends. I HATE online dating with a passion (all that "Describe yourself" nonsense) but I figured I would give this a try. I plugged in my future zip code and found 2 interesting prospects amongst all the bible study, scrapbooking and Ron Paul meetups. One was for a rowing club. My blog collaborator, Bad Wolf, was on the rowing team when she studied abroad in England, and she loved it. I'd like to give that a try. Added bonus: maybe I can avoid gym membership because rowing will keep you in shape!




The other group was a social club for single women with no kids:

"We are a social group for women aged 21-35 living in Jacksonville focused on building positive friendships.
Events are child-free and centered on adult interactions.
We are quite active and require members to attend meetups and contribute actively to the group.
Our members include single girls, career girls, very well educated girls, girls with partners, previous military, Jacksonville locals, military spouses, civilians, international girls and adventurous girls."

Sounds good to me so I made up a profile and requested membership. I was met with a survey chock full of job interview style questions. What would I contribute to the group? Tell us about yourself (but only in the 1,000 words that the text box will allow you.) What interested you in our group? Our events are child-free. Do you have children?

Aaaarrrggh! I guess making friends these days ain't what it used to be.

Nice Try, Old Man

But it is going to take more than another pair of ovaries to sway women who supported Clinton. This is the best you could come up with... REALLY?!?!? PUMAs (party unity my ass!) are bitter... not stupid!

Welcome To The Party, Bad Wolf!

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce my main partner in crime for the last 11 years and the baddest bitch I know. Rosie (aka Bad Wolf) is now contributing to the blog. If you think I am warped, just wait until she unleashes.

On an admin note, the blog might be undergoing some altercations... er, alterations in the next few days while the two of us figure out the best way to set this up. Have patience with us!

My Style Icon This Autumn

They always say that moving to a new town is a clean slate. Although I don't want to completely transform, I am going to embrace the opportunity to fine tune one aspect of my life: my wardrobe! I have gotten complacent the last few years. Khakis, V-necks and ballet flats are my go-to uniform for work. I always used the weekends as my chance to bust out the fun clothes but lately you are lucky to see me outside of sweats, flip-flops and a T-shirt on a Saturday. My general attitude has been "Why bother?" I am seriously teetering in to "What Not To Wear" territory, and have found myself looking over my shoulder to make sure Stacey and Clinton aren't going to swoop down on me.

I have gotten crazy inspiration from my new TV obsession Mad Men. My new style icon is the sexy office vixen Joan Holloway.

Proof that curvy girls are sexy

This lady totally makes me want to grab a box of bright auburn hair dye, slap on some red lipstick and sashay around the office in shift dresses and heels. I am bordering on girl crush territory here.




I already have the hips for it. The clothes in the stores this season support the look. Only thing is I have to find a good stylist to do something with this dark blonde mop that I have been sporting on my head lately. Otherwise... think I can pull it off?

The Sound Bite That Became My Tipping Point

I am that elusive creature that all the political pundits have dedicated endless hours of speculation to: the bitter, disenfranchised Clinton supporter. Not quite a PUMA (party unity my ass) but very close. I admire and respect Hillary Clinton. When Kerry lost in 2004, I comforted myself by saying that everything would all be alright when Hillary took over in 2008. In the early days before the primaries, I was positive that Clinton would hand that punk Obama a piece of his own ass.

Obama had never really inspired warm and fuzzy feelings in me. I believed that he made a pit stop in the Senate just to get directions to the White House. I thought he talked a good game but lacked the fortitude to back it up. Biden as his running mate didn't help. Although I had quit believing in the fairytale of a Obama-Clinton ticket, Biden struck me as a pompous, sneaky Beltway insider; a Democrat version of Cheney.

Despite being a life-long Democrat, I found myself taking a look at McCain. A very quick look since I am as left as you can get on most social issues. And even though American women have possessed the right to vote for less than a century, I kicked around the idea of just sitting this election out. When I was in the Army, I used to chastise fellow soldiers for not taking the time to vote. "What other job to you get to choose who the CEO of your company is? We get a say in who our Commander-In-Chief is going to be... how can you throw that away?" I would preach. Quite the hypocrite, aren't I?

I wasn't expecting much from the Democratic National Convention but yet I found myself getting energized. Not surprising that Hillary Clinton's speech was the one that convinced me that I couldn't sit on the sidelines for an election this important. She was on fire! Even 2 days later, these words keep ringing in my ears:

"We don't need four more years of the last eight years."

No we don't, Senator Clinton...no we don't.



I tip my hat to you, Hillary Clinton. You are a strong, admirable woman who continues to be an inspiration. Your gracious backing for Obama proved that you could check any ego at the door and put your country's needs first. I would have loved to seen you sworn in as the first female president but I won't let my disappointment cloud my judgment.

Dirtbag Alert: Dante Moore

Dante Moore, a computer engineer who was fed up with being a nerd who got no play from the ladies, has taken it upon himself to write a "help" book for single women. The advice found in "The Re-education of the Female" (ugh... just typing that title made me break out in to hives): Learn how to cook man-friendly meals, do as you're told, stay pleasant and non-confrontational and, above all else, DON'T GET FAT!

Here is a little sample from his manifesto:

"The fatter you get, the more you decrease your potential single-man pool. Let me give you an example. When you go to the grocery store to shop, do you pick out the nastiest-looking, most rotten, smelliest fruit or meat you can find? Oh, you don't? Why not? . . . It's the same with men when they see baby elephant-sized, out-of-shape women."

Even better is:

"Here's a little secret, ladies: men never really ask for anything. They command. . . . And believe me, what you won't do, ten broads around the corner will."

Thank you, Mr. Dante Moore. Reading your vile excuse for advice made me vomit. Looks like I found a new diet plan. Maybe I should pick up a copy of your book, so every time I get the urge to eat, I can just read a passage and completely lose my appetite. Maybe I will lose the will to express my own opinions since I will be so weak from calorie deprivation. Then I can be really skinny and submissive and get a domineering, arrogant douchebag like you for a boyfriend.