2012, The End of the World? or My Bucket List...

Once upon a time, I did see the movie, The Bucket List.  It's a good one, but I am sure like many others, it got my thinking.  I have a bucket list too.  Is it like my neighbor's?  my best friends?  Probably not.  But here goes nothing.

The Diana Bucket List...
(and no bungee jumping isn't on this list.  I am not about to snap my neck!)

1. Been a part of a hockey fight - a good one.
2. Skate backwards like Ms. Chuck Taylor
3. Watch a meteor shower
4. Swim with wild dolphins
5. Visit the Eiffel Tower
6. Watch a lightning storm at sea
7. Walk the stairs to the top of the Statue of Liberty
8. Eat a hot dog on the street in New York 
9. Buy a fake Rolex 
10. Visit the birthplace of my ancestors
11. Go on a midnight walk on the beach
12. Visit Ireland and drink a beer
13. Bench-press my own weight
14. Get scuba certified
15. Visit Australia
16. Take a swamp tour
17. Be in a movie
18. Get flowers for no reason
19. Get in a fight to defend someone's honor
20. Pick up and move to another city just to start over
21. Walk on the Golden Gate Bridge
22. Visit Alcatraz
23. Visit the Biggest Pez store in the world
24. Learn how to ride a motorcycle 
25. Drive a car faster than 100 mph
26. Have my picture in the newspaper
27. Go to Broadway to see a show
28. Visit the Fort Worth arboretum
29. Have dessert at Reunion Tower in Dallas
30. Ride a train so far you get to sleep on the train
31. Eat caviar
32. Ride an elephant
33. Publish my blog and make some cash money
34. Go deep sea fishing
35. Stay the night at a Ritz Carlton
36. Take a helicopter ride
37. Have my portrait painted
38. Learn to juggle
39. Get chosen for jury duty
40. Go to the Opera
41. Have a song dedicated to me at a concert or on the radio
42. Send a message in a bottle
43. See Old Faithful geyser erupt
44. Help solve a crime
45. Take a ballroom dancing class
46. Rent a convertible and drive to a Bed and Breakfast
47. Buy a new couch
48. Eat an entire lobster in Maine
49. Own a pair of real leather pants
50. Have someone make me breakfast in bed, with coffee, and served on a tray!

"I Love When A Plan Comes Together"

Once upon a time I found renewed hope in someone.  Someone I think I know pretty well.  Someone I thought was almost unreachable.  I think even I, the woman who looks at the cup half full had my reservations.  But as I grew to know and care, I could see perhaps there was a heart, deep down inside.  A bruised heart.  I often think that my time and effort is wasted at times, but today I could see it was not.  I gathered with some close friends for my favorite meal of lasagna.  I say that because it truly is my most favorite meal and I generally only get it on my birthday served by my mom.  Ms. Chuck Taylor was in attendance and her very sweet husband, Mr. Level 13. (12 is the highest level, but I think he is certainly a 13, or will be).  She always makes me laugh and I have to say that even in the short time I have known her, I would consider her in the top 5.  It's not easy to break into my top 5.  Many have come and gone.  The story of the top will have to be for another blog.  But you know you will be back to find out...Do it! 

SIDEBAR:  Ms. Chuck Taylor has a creative side to her which I very much enjoy.  Her selection in cards was great, and I have to say, I like tag-teaming with her in laughter over some very small inside joke. 

"num-chuck skills, bow hunting skills, hockey skills, eating cake skills, eating a second piece of cake skills..."

Today I saw that an impression must have been made this past August.  I arrived at the Tiger's house excited because I had a picture sent to my phone and there was a pile of presents.  I know that I am sadly not a kid anymore, but when I see presents, I can't help but get giddy with excitement when I know they are for me.  Earlier this month, I was asked, "well what do you want for Christmas?"  My response was, "you shouldn't have to ask, you should know me well enough to know what I like."  I stick by that statement.  I knew if the Tiger gave it some real thought, he would know that it doesn't ever matter what the gift is, it is all about the thought behind it.  It could be a candy bar, if that candy bar is my favorite kind.  I would be just as happy with that then a diamond bracelet.  Now, don't freak out, I didn't get a diamond bracelet.  I am just making a point. (although, know that I would definitely accept a diamond bracelet regardless).

Now I happen to be a bit of a PEZ collector.  If you know me, you know this is true.  I figure 300+ Pez dispensers makes you a collector.  So he got me the Orange County Chopper Pez set.  Now, I have watched the show, but what I liked best is that he happens to have grown up in Orange County and I love Pez.  Although not a direct correlation, it is one that puts a huge smile on my face. 

Of course, it is all ready sitting on my shelf.  It is totally awesome.  I feel like if you become a Pez dispenser, you have made it.  I wish someone would make a Pez dispenser with me on it.  That would be even better than a bobble head.  I would happily accept both. 

Now he happens to be super easy to shop for, but I think what I enjoy best is when he opens something ridiculous that I have given him, he has a hearty laugh which is my favorite part.  It makes me want to laugh right along side him.  If I can keep him laughing and guessing, I think it might make it worth it. 

Even I need a little hope sometimes...

The End.

Are you born with it?

Webster dictionary defines empathy as:

1 : the imaginative projection of a subjective state into an object so that the object appears to be infused with it

2 : the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner.

 

How can we deal with those born without empathy?  I ask myself this because I know of a person just like this. Even though I am in my early 30's, I don't think I have ever come across such a person.  We will call him Mr. Tiger.  I have heard that perhaps it is a recessive gene, a sleeper gene, that surprises us with it's viciousness. It rears its ugly head by showing no compassion, no guilt, no love.  I have read that only about 4% may be responsible for having no empathy.  Do you know what I am talking about? A class of people we normally think of as criminals is actually quite normal in most respects. They are secretly hidden among us.  Someone without a conscience, without a vital part of what we think of as human.  So again, I question.  Do we learn empathy from our parents, our friends, society?  

 

Perhaps people without empathy can pass as "normal."  Most are seemingly intelligent.  However, to an outsider they should be able to access the emotion.  But, perhaps their processing difficulties and poor communication skills, impedes them to know in the same way what other people with empathy have.   Maybe they are overwhelmed by outside stimuli, they cannot focus on others because they are only focused on themselves.

So I have also learned that people without empathy are characteristically sociopaths.  They are regarded by their lack of emotions.  They are  motivated by other emotions such as fear, envy, anger, sloth, the desire to win. Really, sociopaths feel the same things as the rest of us with the one exception. They cannot love. Sociopathy is characterized by the absence of conscience. They don’t feel guilty about hurting others because they can't empathize.  They can not relate to another in pain. 

 

It's almost unimaginable to me.  I think I am can empathize with people because I don't even think about it.  Perhaps it makes me a good person, or maybe it makes me soft.  Unable to just use people and discard them.  I wanted to be the person who doesn't care.  I do.  I used to want to be that person.  The one that never hurts never feels for someone else.  The person that skips through life.  The conclusion is I know that I know how to care for others.  I am pretty sure the person with no empathy might end up alone. 

Topics of Conversation to Avoid During a First Date

Once upon a time, in a bar and grill in Texas, two people were having their first date.  I met Mr. Richards for drinks and dinner, I think.  So I arrived a tad bit late which almost never happens but I went to the wrong place.  I will admit, it was my fault, and I did not put the correct address in the GPS.  However, when I did arrive, Mr. Richards had permanent glasses.  I say permanent because according to his profile pictures they were not there.  He was also fluffier than I remember.  Regardless, he started to talk.  And talk...and talk.  Somehow we got on the topic of weddings.  I find that this should be avoided.  Period.  The End.  He had an engagement ring  because a long time ago (around the end of high school) he asked a girlfriend to marry him.  Now, they did not marry, but I was all ready starting to get concerned.  The engagement ring looked similar to this:

A dolphin engagement ring

THEN, he said that he was going to put her birthstone in the eyes of the dolphin, which was a ruby.  I thought to myself, wow, a possessed dolphin engagement ring.  Could I be looking forward to this?  What surprised me is that he kept talking about her, the engagement, how much the ring was valued at and that the ring could be traded up, and that it took place in a mall.  I hope no one asks me to get married in a mall, or worse, in the food court.   

Now a few people know that I had a plan to meet someone fabulous and get  married on 11-11-11.  Naturally, this was more of a joke than a feasible plan, but do you think I told Mr. Richards that on our first date?  Of course I didn't.  I didn't want him to think I was crazy just yet.  Crazy comes in later right?  Right.  So he talked about his upbringing in a small town (first warning alert) his career, his college years, his high school years, his perception of being the class clown and how funny he thought he was, his refection on the truck he had to recently trade in for a more economical car, basically everything under the sun.  I didn't even have to ask him a question because I sat there just listening.  Listening for 3 1/2 hours.  (Now I do deserve brownie points for all that listening, something I am personally working on)  I started to look at his watch, then I had to cut him off and say, in the land of people, I have to get up and go to work tomorrow.  He, of course, did not.  I think I am a little too nice.  I should have ran out of the restaurant screaming in horror after seeing this engagement ring.  I know what I would like, but it sure as hell isn't this.  I collect PEZ but I don't want an engagement ring that looks like a pez with a diamond in it.  He paid for the 2 beers I had.  In hindsight, I should have had 10 beers and then called Miss Silky Hair for a ride home, and left the car there.  It would have been a totally awesome plan and made the talking bearable!  At least if I had 10 beers I could use my raised voice, cut him off and been a little wild.  One of my friend's told me that is not a raised voice, it's my yelling voice.  I am not sure I recognize the difference.  He walked me to my car and gave me a hug.  I thanked him for dinner, because that is what nice girls do that have good manners.  He said to text him to let him know I made it home all right.  Thoughtful, yes.  I made it home at mach speed because I felt like I was on the show mission impossible and that I may never see my home again.  Naturally he had a wonderful time.

I also recently went to a wedding (imagine that).  Now usually, I am the one in tears though it.  My gaybors made fun of me the last time.  But I know exactly what it is, it is the part when the dad gives the daughter a way.  I guess I feel really sad for the dad, and maybe myself a little too.  I know it is meant to be happy, but I am always a little tearful.  I feel a little of the loss of a close friendship.  However, I am pretty sure my dad would high-five the guy at the alter if I ever got married.  Followed by these exact words, "finally you are taking her off my hands, whoo hoo!!!"  But at this wedding, no tears, nothing.  Perhaps I am becoming my jaded and the sentimental part of me is just over it.   Or maybe the bad date was still too fresh in my mind.

Needless to say, I think I am throwing in the towel.  I decided this the day after this date.  I think I am just done.  If I have to have one more bad date, I might join a convent.  I bet they would let me in if I let them read my blog with all the bad dates.  Sister Princess Diana does have an interesting ring.  Do you think they would make me drop the Princess part? 

What Men Think They Want in A Girl...

Once upon a time, dating started to suck in my 30's. Perhaps, I need a break. I can tell you this much, it wears me out. However, I have come to learn a few things. Men will tell you what they want, but in all fairness, it's not what they really want.

Let's review the "leaving things at some one's house."

The Woman's View:
I am pretty sure we are all thrilled if something were to get left at our house, even if by accident (although we can analyze that wasn't an accident). I think it shows, security and stability. The easy tell tale sign is, hey this guy likes me and will be coming back. All of this, we can determine by a t-shirt left or perhaps even as little as a toothbrush.

The Guy's View: (true story)
My BFF Mr. Pacman told his now live in girlfriend, NEVER to leave anything at his house. He said, "don't leave any shampoo or just a toothbrush."  I am guessing that means they feel trapped if something gets left. 


Next item on review:  "I want a smart, independent girl"

The Woman's View:
We are pretty happy if we are viewed as smart and often times stable.  We think this will make us more attractive to the opposite sex.  We are easy to handle and low maintenance. 

SIDEBAR:  This is a TOTAL HORSE SHIT!


The Guy's View:
They want the damsel in distress.  If you don't believe me, talk to the guys I work with.  All of them married one and all of them are miserable.  SIDEBAR:  I am grinning as I write this.  The girl that can't change a tire or can't pay the rent, so they can swoop in and rescue them and pay for it all.  *By the way, if you find this guy, definitely send him my way*  That way, they can exchange those types of good deeds for others.  You know what I am saying.  It's all part of their master plan.  They don't want you to be smarter than them, that is blasphemy.  This also goes along at beating their ass at air hockey or other such games, video games included.  I am just saying.  

EXAMPLE OF THE DAMSEL:
Earlier this year in a cold tundra, I saw the damsel in distress in full effect.  There was a blizzard here in Texas and if you live here you will remember it was right around the Super Bowl.  So, this lady who worked for me, her name was Petunia was terrified of the snow.  Of course she was.  So one day it was snowing pretty good.  She went out to the warehouse and asked one of male employees to come and wipe the snow off her windshield.  I swear to you.  As I live and breathe!!!  I thought I was going to come unglued.  As soon as she pulled out of the parking lot with her clear windshield, I went outside.  I pulled out the most awesome snow window scraper in all the land.  My dad got me one on a business trip via the rental car he had.  I brushed off my window, and the other 2 girls in the office and the 2 guys in the warehouse out of being just plain annoyed that she couldn't just use her mitten like any other normal human being.  That is the day I knew I wasn't the damsel. 

REVELATION / EXCEPTION TO THE RULE:
Now back to the story at hand.  I got a little side-tracked with the damsel in distress story, but it had to be told.  Now, I did meet a fabulous woman who broke this horrid trend of men only like the damsel in distress.  It must have been magic or destiny.  I am still trying to repeat her very story only in my own life.  Her name is Ms Chuck Taylor.  Before she met her beau (who happens to be awesome and younger, and will never get fat - EVER), she was a successful editor in Hollywood.  Her life happens to be fascinating if you ever hear a chapter of it.  She is smart, worked hard, and made so much money she could make it rain.  She met this man on a website, how it turned out as good as it has is beyond me.  He is also smart and hard working.  I am pretty sure he might be the only one left and sadly because I am such good friends with Ms. Chuck Taylor, stealing him would be a deal breaker and could end in my death.  I am pretty sure it would end in the streets ala kickboxing style and with awesome sound effects. 

Next time on review:  "You aren't my type, I prefer brunettes"

LONG SIDEBAR:

Let me just say, if I had $100.00 for every time I heard that line, I would have $200.00.  Yes, I have heard it twice, but what I am is saying is that I also have a type.  A type that I think is ideal that I happen to never date.  Now my dad said blonde's are the  most beautiful and of course he is right, but if Niche ruled the world, I would be here and these schmuck men who said they preferred a brunette would not.  It's not my fault I am a fair maiden and it's not my fault I drank enough milk as a kid so I could be a Sasquatch.  I am healthy and I have good skin, so suck it!

A Woman's View:
I should probably change my hair color because then he will like me and we can live happily ever after.  Now mind you this is the accommodating woman speaking.  I, on the other hand, like who I am.  The End.  Now I am not saying I haven't had brown hair.  There was the breakup of 2008 where I went all Carrie Bradshaw circa Sex in the City Movie 1 where I was heart broken and the only way to feel better was to transform myself into someone I didn't recognize in the mirror.  It worked and my mom hated it.   

The Guy's View:
I am all powerful, and now that she is a brunette, I think I really do prefer blonde's.  Followed by the line of, "can we just be friends?"  Which I will mention is the kiss of death. 

The moral to this story is that men are picky too.  They say they aren't, but that is also HORSE SHIT.  Someone fabulous could be on their door step and until someone whacked them in the head with a wiffle ball bat, they wouldn't know it. 

I have been told I am picky, but guess what, so are men!  

The End.

My tongue can be a dagger!

Once up on a time a few weeks ago, I was having a rocky day. On a Saturday, no less. So my day began, I went to to Mrs. Mini Mom's house to watch a football game. So, we were all there chit chatting and catching up. Mr. Mini Dad was out of the town, so it was just the girls. So a knock comes at the door it's the neighbor across the street.

TRADEGY STRUCK

The neighbor lady backed into my beautiful red altima. I was like Son of a B*&%!!! I just had my car in the shop to fix a lousy fog light that cost me a new pair of boots for the fall. I hit a damn bird and the bird shattered my fog light. I think that is totally unfair, move for crying out loud. So I got it fixed because I have vowed to bury this car when it dies. I am keeping it FOREVER or until death do us part. I mean it. So accidents happen, but dang, this lady drove a mack truck, or a Range Rover. It even had a back up beeping system. I mean hello, when it beeps that means to look in your freaking mirror! So the neighbor lady's husband comes over next and apologizes and gives me his insurance. Good.

So the day continues and I go to my hockey game. There is like 3 people there and I know I will be skating my ass off because we are short people...AGAIN. So we take the ice and the team we are playing against might be auditioning for the Dallas Stars. For the love of Pete. I mean, I am no Gordy Howe, but it becomes a little frustrating when you can't even catch the skater who has the puck.

TRADEGY AGAIN STRIKES

I get clocked by what I am sure is yeti. He was huge. I mean I am a tall lady, but this guy was certainly a yeti. See picture below if you need to see a true yeti, or the guy who took me out on the ice.

So the game ends, and I am really in a mood now.

So I walk through the door as a sweaty beast (almost like a sweaty yeti), and Miss Margarita calls.

MM - "I am coming over."

Me - "uh, ok. I am going to get in the shower"

MM - "I haven't heard from my date, and I can't go home."

SIDEBAR - she had scheduled a first date Mr. Motorcycle, he was supposed to call to confirm the plans of meeting at local bar and grill and watching a football game.

So Miss Margarita arrives and we sit and chat. I told her I was having a hella bad day and that the yeti clocked me and I was over the day. So feeling bad for her, I said, hey, let's go get a drink and some food. She agrees. Somehow I get roped into driving my beat up jalopy.

We arrive and order a giant beer (is there really another size?). Mr. Motorcycle texts her that he is now in Fort Worth.

SIDEBAR - Apparently a bike fell on him and he thought he cracked a rib. He went home, took a pain killer and fell asleep. He then apparently woke up and drove to Fort Worth to meet Miss Margarita.

Get ready for the dagger part.

Miss Margarita decides to go meet him. At 10:00 PM at night. I lose it. I mean I really lose it. I raise my voice (which I have been told is more like a a frantic screaming). And then I unleash exactly what I think, with no filter.

It went along these lines:

"Are you fucking stupid? You have to be kidding me! He texts you and you hop to! You are pathetic and have no self-respect for yourself!"

I realize this was rather harsh. But I was really pissed off. I drove us to the house and she left. She texted me later that night to tell me she made it home. SEVEN days pass without us speaking. I needed a few days to cool off, and I needed more than one day and I was certainly not sorry.

So, the following Saturday, I get an email from Miss Margarita and I read it and I was a little bit pyscho looking back. I probably was yelling and swearing and being belligerent. But I honestly can't remember just going off like that. I mean usually I am the girl who stews over the course of a time period before the volcano explodes. But with the day I had, I went off without any hesitation. Clearly we both discussed our points and now everything is fine, with apologies on both sides.

I can say that I am really coming into my 30's. In my 20's, I hated fighting with anyone, parents, friends, boyfriends, anyone. Now, I embrace it. It's part of life. Who goes through life and never has a fight? I used to apologize right away because my stomach would be in knots. Now, I talk through it. I still stew, but I am more likely to confront the fight or say, hey you are out of line rather than just feel like I need to apologize to end the fight.

The End.

1 out of every crazy person gets married on Match.com

Do you like my title? Yea, that should be the real advertising. I am serious. So I signed up for a 3 month subscription to match.com about 1 month ago. Can you just cancel early? I mean seriously. There are some really nice looking men on there, don't get me wrong. I haven't heard from them, but they are there.

So contrary to what people may believe about me, I am a bit shy when it comes to the match.com. I know what you are thinking, this girl? shy? I know, but when it comes to someone rejecting you with the "thanks, but no thanks" comment, you tend to be a little guarded. So I tend to wink, which in all fairness is not really happening at the last couple bars I was to in person. Imagine that? If a guy could just wink at me and I knew he was interested, I would be set. But that would be simply too easy.

So about 3 weeks ago, I throw in the towel and email this dude. It's hard to just start a random conversation. You wouldn't think so, but you really have to carefully think about what you want to say in this very impressionable first email. It's make or break. So I tend to really have trouble with this. I send him an email which I thought was quite witty and he responds. We discuss the latest sports scores and what we like to do. I thought to myself, this is going swimmingly. So I respond with another email saying, oh you are so funny and we probably have the same sense of humor. Chuckle, hee hee. Then being the bold lady I truly am. I decide to send my number. Prepare for HORROR music.
The end. Yep, after our glorious 4 emails together, I send my number and I have never heard from him again. Ahhh such is life as a single spinster. I assure you that if I was more crazy and had more drama and more baggage, I would certainly have a boyfriend by now.

Which brings me to a side story. Once upon a time at work in the break-room, I was having my routine morning coffee. The "gimp" (yea, I know - Pulp Fiction - Bring out the Gimp) who is how I like to refer to the latest employee on light duty was also back there cleaning up something I don't care about. The topic of children arose due to the past work BBQ and the insane amount of children that attended. So Miss Silky hair says, "Chuck (not his real name), how many kids do you have again?" He replies, (ever so non-chalantly) 6. At this point, I nearly fall off my seat and crack my head wide open. I am like 6 freaking kids. How the hell does that happen? The next question gets even better, "you're married, right?" Chuck responds with, and I shit you not, "well I was married three times, but now I am divorced, I have custody of 3 of my kids. They are ages, 1, 2, 7, 8, 10, 12" Did your mind just instantly flash to CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN???

Good lord, he is HALF WAY THERE! Wait for it, wait for it. He is 31! Drum roll please. So without any filter, I burst out with, "you know there are several types of birth control available." I mean good grief, you know I am paying for all those damn kids through my health benefits somehow. And I thought to myself. Do you eat ramen noodles because that is all you can afford since you probably pay out 1 bajillion dollars in CHILD SUPPORT??? How in the hell did this guy get married 3 times? The third wife had to be the craziest. I think by her, he all ready had 4 kids. If that were me, I would have took off running the other direction....at LIGHT SPEED.

This brings me to yet another side conversation that took place after this little break-room incident. Lunch with my dad. Generally this involves a burger, but we got on the topic of this article I had read from CNN, titled, Why men are in trouble, By William J. Bennett, CNN Contributor updated 10:27 AM EST, Tue October 4, 2011. (in case you want to read it). Apparently they had talked about this article on the Today Show (and damn it, I missed it). Anyways, my dad was watching and they asked the question, "What would you prefer, a man with intelligence or a man with manners?" My dad says, "of course Star Jones said, "a man with intelligence." Then my dad says, who would you pick? I said, "a man with manners." There aren't too many anymore. And trust me, there is a difference between a man with manners and a gentleman. But that is for another blog entry. Don't get me wrong, I think intelligence is important, but what happens when they are so smart, and can't remember to open the door for you. The article topic was that women no longer really need men. We are more educated, making good money, heading to church, and women aren't feeling pressured to get married. These people clearly don't live in Texas, because here, they marry you at high school graduation. Anyways, it was interesting.

But the hopeless romantic in me is sad. I always thought I would at least be married at this point. And I know people say it's not what it's cracked up to be, but my parents have been married 39 years. I mean obviously something is working. When my dad calls my mom, her ringtone for him is Hot Stuff. I hope when I get married, that my husband's ringtone for me is "Dirty Diana" by Michael Jackson. Get your head out of the gutter, it's a good song and it has my name in it. Don't hate on the great 80's Michael Jackson. That music is timeless.

Regardless, if I don't get married. I have my Panini maker. And all is good in the world.

The Grass is Always Greener

So once upon a time, I embarked on a business road trip. Picture Vacation with Chevy Chase, the only difference was that I was with my boss and HR. We were in an Ford Expedition rather than a classic station wagon. So I arrived to the plant on time at the crack of dawn, also known is 6:30am. Don't worry I was on time. My boss, however was not. Sadly, I was dropped at the curb with all my things. I guess it could have been worse. The driver could have just slowed down and let me hop out while the car was still moving. I am sure the idea was thought about.

So 2 hours later, we stop for McDonald's and after 2 more stops, we arrive in dry and desolate West Texas. I learned my tolerance for driving is about 3 hours, it's not 9. Who in the world wants to be in a car that long? So after picking up another co-worker, we ate lunch. We went to Chili's. It was the longest lunch of my life. The people are of another breed. The breed that is in no hurry for anything, EVER. Our waitress had bleach blonde and black hair mixed together. I wanted to tell her to pick a color, clear the table and take my order all in one breathe. Now don't get me wrong, I am NOT always in a hurry but come on, I would like to eat before the moon comes out. Clear the table and let's get on with it. So after the longest lunch in history, we all pile back into the car and take off. I thought this was the perfect time to get into the third row and crash out. I slept all the way to the next location, which was even farther West.

The plant that I arrived at was something out of a horror movie. It was a garage mixed with a shack. I walked into a place with a floor that resembled my garage floor, only not as nice. It was warm and stuffy, because the window air conditioning units were not working but instead blowing warm air. I was never more aware that I was in blue jeans than this moment. I was hot in two seconds and starting to sweat. At this point, I couldn't wait to get back into the car and get the hell out of dodge. The plant was in the middle of a neighborhood, but not a nice one. There was a haunted, run down house next store that had graffiti on it. I thought, this might be my "final destination." I was waiting for the ceiling to just cave in, and that 4 days later they find my overheated, red body, chewed up by vultures or wild wolves. So I started to work with the gentleman there. He was in shorts, and I only wished I was too. The office was small and cluttered. I didn't know where to start. We worked on a few things and after about 2 hours, it was time to get back in the car and head to the hotel. Naturally on the way back, the engine light came on. I thought, this is certainly the end for me. The rental car will break down, no one will find us and we will all perish in the middle of no where. We made it back, only to eat again. I can't tell you how tired I was from eating, riding, driving and sleeping.

We arrive at our hotel and begin to check in, our room was priced the same as the Ritz, only it was a Holiday Inn Express. Not quite the same. I have never been to the Ritz, but it's on my bucket list. I took the most glorious shower of my life. I could have stayed there forever. Afterwards, I knew that the next day would be a bad hair day because I didn't want to do anything but hit the pillow. I attempted to get online, but that didn't work. I didn't care much because I was too tired anyways. So I flip some channels and finally pass out.

The next morning, I woke up with a crick in my neck. Of course.

However, once back in the car, I thought I might have a nervous breakdown...from being in the car again. We got to talking and I thought about my life. This often happens on long road trips I think. My first thought was I wish I had some corn nuts. My second thought was that is this my life?

It felt like my life was at a stand still while everyone around me was moving forward. I know that's not all true. Sometimes you just want what the people around you have. I want to live in a downtown loft, have a killer high paying job, with a good looking guy on my arm. It could happen...

It made me think of my mom, also known as the Lady of Leisure. My mom is sweet and I envy her sometimes. She is always busy even though she doesn't have to work and support herself. She is selfless and would do anything for me. In my office, I joke about how I want a man for: taking out the trash, taking my car for an old change and asking me how my day was. I know that isn't the only things, but those are the 3 things that I want the most, even if it's a very simple request.

One time, and this is something I will never forget. At Christmas a while back, I got a small box wrapped from my mom. It was just from her. It was small and I wondered what little surprise was inside. When I opened this box, it had a pair of diamond earrings in it. I was in awe at the sparkle and the fact that I did not have diamond earrings, nor did I ask for them. But I had recently had a break up with a guy. In hindsight, I knew that we would have never lived happily ever after. I looked at my mom who was looking at me, and she said, "I thought you deserved some diamonds." Like since I didn't get a diamond ring, and I was back to square one with my never ending drama of a love life. She got it. She gave me just what I needed that I didn't know I needed it. So I guess the grass is sometimes greener on the other side, but my life is pretty good most of the time.

5 years is a bit too long...

Once upon a time, in my day to day life, I learned something new. According to the Tiger (as he shall be called), he said he told me about this, and I allegedly replied with, "eh." My "oh crap" moment happened last Thursday. I am pretty sure I sometimes have selective hearing and that when this item was explained to me from all the wisdom of the Texas Blue Hair and the Feisty Shoe Diva, I knew this was LIFE OR DEATH! There is a filter that goes in the house for your air conditioner.

Did you know that? Because I sure as hell didn't know that. And yes, before you start to really get on my case, I know an air filter goes in the car. Do you know how I know that bit of information, because the mechanic with the name stitched on his shirt (probably named Buck) pulled out a filthy one and said, "this is pretty dirty, do you want a new one?" I of course, said hell no. I knew I could get it cheaper at the O'Reilly's or wherever my dad said it was cheaper. The point being, someone pulled it out of the car, lifted it in the air, so I could see it and said, hey this has to be changed or your car will blow up on the road, and the sky will fill with dust....

All right maybe not exactly like that, but upon being asked about it, I figured out this was something important.

So naturally the next question from the wise ladies is, "when is the last time it was changed?" Now, this was the first time I even heard about this oh so important filter, so I knew the answer would be...wait for it, get ready for the echo in a large cave... "NEEEEVVVVERRR!" The gasp was unbelievable and simultaneous. Then I got the lecture of why this is important. Even the cowgirl knew what it was and the flamenco dancer (the other 2 ladies I work with).

So I began my search for how to get a new filter. I text messaged the Tiger and screamed for help. I didn't know what this was, where it was and why I even had to change it in the first place and why this was never announced to me in home owner's 101 class.

Well unfortunately the Tiger bailed on me last minute like a typical man, so it was time for this girl to get down to the Home Depot and walk aimlessly around until a rugged man could ask me what I was looking for. Unfortunately, there were on a special end cap as soon as I walked in, and no rugged man could help me because the filter was starring me in the face. Dang it. This is what a new filter looks like, in case you are learning about this for the first time.
To my surprise, they were relatively cheap. For once, something that didn't require me to dip into my emergency savings account (like the stinking break pads). So then I had to figure out where the heck this went. I was sure it was the attic, which is 100,000 degrees right about now. Oh did I mention it's been 17 days with triple digit heat. Awesome. Perfect time to change this thing.

But to my surprise, I learned from my dear friend little mama, the vent was at the top of the stairs. HOORAY! This meant not sweating to death in the attic.

Now, the cowgirl told me to look very carefully at the old filter to see the arrow. This apparently deals with air flow or whatever. Well I can tell you I had to squint to see it because it was basically rubbed off. Do you know why? Well it's because I have NEVER changed the filter in 5 years, that's why!

Guess what? It was REALLY dirty. I mean layers of dirty, like my hands were black. I wish I could have taken a picture of my hands, because it would have made this story extra dramatic.

Here is the dirty filter...(Butch, my good kitty was supervising).

Pretty bad huh? Well lesson learned. Being the genius I am, I bought a 2 pack and even put in my calendar the next time to change it. It will beep a reminder.

The lesson to this story is this that older people know about anything and if you don't want your air conditioner to blow up and cost you $7,000.00 to repair, you will change out this important filter.

The End.

Manners will get your far...

Manners, do we have them anymore? I sometimes wonder. I remember them being beat into me. So much so, that they stuck.

Here is a few examples:

1. Please and thank you


2. Chew with your mouth closed


3. Cross your legs if you are wearing a dress


4. Wipe your feet at the door and take your shoes off in a persons home


5. Ask to be excused from the dinner table (this one was really important - and you had to say MAY I be excuse from the table PLEASE? - or you'd sit there)


6. Offer food or drinks to guests


7. Open doors for people behind you and ladies


8. Apologize to someone if you bump into them


9. Wait to eat until everyone at the table is seated and ready to eat


10. Cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze

These seem pretty common.

Once upon a time, I was on a plane on the way home from Detroit. I sat next to the largest man who honestly looked like he was having triplets. He should have bought 2 seats, not 1. His legs were spread wide open, so he basically took up all my leg room. It pissed me off immediately. Then to top it off, the jack ass in front of me reclined his seat. I never recline my seat on a plane because it pisses me off so much. So I basically felt like a sardine in a can. What annoyed me more is that when the flight attendant came by to ask what beverage I would like. The person from India near the window says, "tomato juice," the fat man besides me says, "ginger ale," I reply, "ginger ale, please," Even though I know it will be Canada Dry, and not Vernors, I still know to say please. Then the flight attendant brings everyone their drink and I am the only one who says, "thank you," by which she replies, "you are welcome." So the 2 schmucks next to me say nothing. What the heck is wrong with people? That nice woman should have poured the drinks on those 2 idiots next to me. I would have stood up and applauded her.

Prior to this little airplane trip, I was visiting my 2 cousins, Mr. Big Deal, and Mr. Sweetheart. Both of which are 7 or more years younger than me, but have better manners that the last 5 guys I had a date with, except for 1, who picks me up, and opens my door when we go out. Miss Fashionista and I went to visit my family, and immediately when we arrived, the boys, put our luggage in the trunk, opened the palace doors to White Castle and took us to lunch. Afterwards, they got our luggage out of the trunk, carried them to our room, and offered us a beverage in their home. Now, my Ms. Crazy Fun raised these boys right. They are wonderful. She also told me that my standards in men are not too high, and that waiting for the right one is far better than putting up with the wrong one. Now, if I could just get the people in Texas to see eye to eye with my family, I'd be all set.

It amazes me how rude people are. They talk on their phone in the grocery store check out line. They don't take their hat off when eating at a restaurant. People don't offer elderly people a seat when they should stand. They start eating before everyone is served. They don't open the doors. Some don't even pay when they ask you to go out for a drink. "SEPARATE" See earlier blog for that drama story. Trust me, it's a must read.

The morale of the story is this: if you have manners, you will get far in life. If you don't, then you're schmuck.

The End.

The Nightmare of Dating...

Once upon a time, matchmaking services were offered to me. I accepted. Little Miss Liar decided she was going to find me the man of my dreams by all means necessary. I, being the adventurous type, decided that this would be a good idea. I told Little Miss Liar that I would accept any advice, go out with anyone she chose (based on my strict criteria) and would explore all suggested avenues.

So first, she sent me to a dating service. She signed me up online while I drove us back from a business trip. I had no idea what she put and who this company was, but Oprah liked it. So naturally, Little Miss Liar went out of town and I got a phone call. So Little Miss Liar promptly made me call her back and sent me over. I met with the craziest lady on the planet. It was 2 hours of my life I will never get back. She was unprofessional, she asked personal questions, (yea, those questions). I am like, hello, who the hell are you? I am not going to tell you anything about that. Then I had to watch a cheesy 80's dating film with a complete cast of freakshow people in it. Don't worry, she continued to tell me about how she broke all the rules, but she met her mate. So she asked me 100 questions about myself, but then told me her answer to all the same questions. I was worn out. Then I am like, hit me with the price. I am tired, hungry, and I am pretty sure this lady was either on drugs, or stuck her finger in the electric socket to do her hair that morning. She was a cross between a mental patient and a mad scientist.

So guess what it cost? $7,500!!! Can you believe that? Who in their right mind pays that? Apparently some guys, because then she whipped out the professional pictures they take! All part of the inexpensive price of $7,500.00. I am sorry but I had a glamour shot when I was 12, and I promise I would use that before forking over that kind of money. Plus my glamour shots were like $99.00 and I looked FABULOUS! I had 2 lbs of make up on and giant hair. I looked like a grown up. So of course she got the price down to $4,500.00 as a deal to me, but naturally she needed it up front. Don't worry, only 4% of the people meet their mate in the first year. So get ready for the 3 year long commitment. I would rather take $4,500.00 and head to Europe and find a mate with an ancient and the need for a greencard!!! Preferably an Italian, who could cook lasagna and who would hand me wads of cash to go shopping with. The more he look like Olivier Martinez, the better. Where did all the real men go?

Maybe I am looking for a unicorn...a great guy that doesn't really exist...

More than an hour!

This is DFW

Once upon a time on a Tuesday morning, all hell broke loose. First, I woke up for cycling. It was a good thing I did, because I checked my flight before I walked out the door. Much to my surprise, the flight was at 8:25am and not 9:25am. So I left and headed to cycling. The second song, Very Sarcastic Valorie played was "Dirty Diana" by Michael Jackson. It's like she knew I was coming to cycling. I thought to myself, what a lovely day. Not to mention the view in front of me was the super hot guy in all black, Johnny Muscles Cash. Who minds getting up earlier when that is the view in front of you? Bravo to your butt and muscle arms. I commend you! And I will sit behind you thinking that in my head, very silently.

So I sweat a little and then leave. I have to take a shower and go to the airport. So I shower, get ready, throw on some fabulous blue eye shadow, and head out. I have the park in the non-covered parking lot. It is always full. I am not thrilled, but what are you going to do? I am not driving around for 20 minutes. I go in, and hit the check point. It has the longest line in the history of the world. I thought I was standing in line for the Ferris Wheel at the Texas State Fair. I was like, uh-oh. So I text Miss Silky Hair, and she hadn't made it through and the lady in front of her was a bitch. So in the mist of me waiting in line. I meet a fabulous New Yorker. It's like yankees and me have an unspoken connection. We pick each other out because we know we are bad ass. So Leigh, and I talk and decide we are doomed to miss the flight. We get there and our flight left without us! Can you believe that? I even asked Miss Silky Hair to hold the plane, like in the movies. Apparently they told her no. Well this morning was not turning out like the movie in my head!!!

Needless to say, I missed the flight. Unbelievable. I have never in my life missed a flight. I pride myself on being punctual. If you aren't sure about that ask, Miss Mom 4. I went to college with her and she can attest to my dinner time being at 5:00pm, on the dot.

So Leigh and I head to the T.G.I.Fridays to eat breakfast. She missed the same flight. I mean what the heck? I am all ready stuck there waiting for the next flight. It's only a mere 2 hours away. Plus, I live for breakfast. That is one thing you must know by now. So after our lovely breakfast and my saving grace cup of coffee, we head to the gate.

I whip out my laptop. I must say that I am quite sure the people around me probably thought I was a powerful executive. I mean I have a laptop with wirless! I can work anywhere. I don't. But the point is that I could! I am sure these other people traveling to Midland surely thought I was running a big company. They might have been admiring my fabulous blue eye shadow, but they probably were thinking they should ask for my business card. Either way, I look important. One time my dad told me a story about how he was so annoyed with everyone talking on their cell phone in the airport, that he held his phone to his ear and started yelling, "SELL, SELL, SELL!!!" Apparently people turned around. He was just annoyed because everyone was talking so loud. I actually thought about doing that, only to prove the point that I could be working on Wall Street selling stocks. I doubt the Midland travelers would believe it, but it is possible.

So FINALLY, I get on the plane. Then a giant businessman in a suit sits next to me. I bust out my Harry Potter book - DON'T JUDGE ME! I didn't read them when they were popular, but now Miss Hollywood has them all and I am borrowing them one at a time. So this dude next to me is totally having a free show of my boobs. I know it. I can't help that it will be 90 degrees in Midland and I have a lovely blouse on. Read your damn newspaper!

So finally I arrive and have to get my rental car. Don't worry, I am a priority member, which means throw me the keys as I walk by, while those other non preferred member schmucks wait in line! I get a KIA. I don't care for KIA because my ninja warehouse manager told me it stood for "Killed In Action" So I am always thinking that a giant army truck is going to steam roll me on a highway when the aliens attack. So far, it hasn't happened. The KIA wasn't bad. It was new and smelled new. So I go to the Plant, and naturally Miss Silky Hair is about to chew off the new cashier's arm. So I just happen to make it in time for lunch. SCORE!

The End.

Crazy, I'm crazy for feeling...

Patsy Cline wrote Crazy. I know you have heard the song. And if you haven't, then you were probably born in 1987 like the new hire today, or you have no sense of culture. Regardless, I think Patsy Cline wrote this song traveling to Midland / Odessa, TX, or any part of West Texas for that matter.

And thus begins my story...

Once upon a time in a dusty, windy region, a fair, young maiden traveled for work. Little did she know she would be entering the TWILIGHT ZONE! Cue music!!!

I have been working in the West Texas region for approximately 3 months. I can tell you that it's a different culture completely. No one is in a hurry, everyone talks slow with a drawl, and the office is like the 1970's without the lime green furniture. Seriously, the women's movement needs to back track and hit this area. Now I am as happy as the next lady to find a true gentleman to open the door for me, (since it's rare), but I also want to know that women also are smart and capable, who can make sound business decisions.

SIDEBAR - One man at lunch, named George McFly, always takes his ball cap off while he is eating. It brings up fond memories of my mom yelling, "take your hat off at the dinner table." At the time, I thought it was stupid. Now, I miss it a little. When McFly does it, it reminds me of what good manners he has, and that we share a love for sandwiches.

Ok back to my ranting...

Here is an example of the backwoods-ness of this West, TX area, if I walk into a hospital and see a women in a white coat, I don't automatically assume she is the nurse because she is female. I also don't look at the doctor and think, oh he must be the doctor because he is male.

In West Texas, women are secretaries. "Does that word even exist?" Men, on the other hand are the "bosses." It makes me want to slit my wrists. So not admin professionals, the term secretary is still used, what is worse is the women use it to refer to themselves. It makes me want to set up a swear jar. Remember, if you said shit, you had to put a quarter in the jar. I should do that for the word secretary.

So onto the real drama of my story. I travel to this one particular site, and there is a lady named Ms. Mouth of the South, only she is really in the West. I consider Texas the South, so it works. She is the most emotional woman I have ever met in my life. I guess I have toughened up working with mostly men. I think that if I am boo hoo-ing all the time, they might not take me serious. Let's just say right now they take me serious. (and I am pretty nice...after my cup of coffee) Ms. Mouth of the South cries once a week, gossips about everything and everyone, and basically is becoming my full time job. I told her she was on a "no crying" restriction. I told her if she was crying, someone better be dead. I guess I come from the school of if you are going to work with men, you better work at their level. Now I am not saying that they don't have an emotional moment here and there. I can tell you that I have never seen one cry in my office. Not ever. I think if they were crying, someone would probably be dead.

Honestly all the problems Ms. Mouth of South has is that she let's everything become personal and emotional. She wants everyone to like her, everyone to come talk to her, and everyone to depend on her. In the real world, there are people that you are not going to like and vice versa. I actually have an arch nemesis who works in Dallas. His name is actually Arch Nemesis. When I speak of his stupid ass, people at work, all ready know who I am speaking of. I have basically replaced his name. (and not even to protect the innocent, like in my blog) Come to think of it, I nick name everyone. I like it. Regardless, everything is about her feelings. It makes me nuts. I have emotions, but I keep them to myself or I call my posse of people who are allowed to see my weaknesses and love me anyway. I literally roll my eyes when I get an email. It's probably as automatic as blinking.

Needless to say, this story is only the beginning. I am quite positive there will soon be a Ms. Mouth of the South monologues coming out in the near future. Or when I have to travel out to the west again.

The End. (for now)

Adventures of dating...

Once upon a time, I thought dating would be a good idea. If you read the last blog, you would know that it's been quite a struggle. Don't worry, there is more.

THE BUTCHER

Once upon a time, I drove to this scary, psycho part of town. I arrived at the Thai place. The Butcher showed up right after me. He gave me a hug and told me I smelled good. I told him that I shower from time to time. Then we went in the restaurant, and it was very nice and small and not scary inside. He brought 3 bottles of wine. So at least he is on the same page as me on that one. He brought 2 of the same kind and 1 in case I didn't like the other ones.

At this point, I thought he was thoughtful and charming. He did not wear a ball cap, like one of my previous dates (SIDEBAR - of which he wore right through dinner. Had he been at my mom and dad's house, someone would have yelled at him).

So we chit chatted, and he told me that he was married for a year and half and that his wife moved to be near her mom because of cancer. Ironically, on his profile, he said he had not been married. (this will become an important detail later in my story.) He offered to move her down and I guess things did not pan out. No kids... Good. He said he was a chef, and loved to throw dinner parties. He could also make Sushi, which I found to be awesome. He likes independent smart woman. Here, here!!! He said he was not clingy and wants his own space sometimes.

In the past, I dated a shorter man, Mr. Klingon. He was a stage 5 clinger. Always rubbing my arm and touching me. I mean good grief, I am not a baby lamb. Sheesh.

The Butcher said he was a morning person (boo and hiss).

We got some food, and he picked out some good stuff, and then I picked one thing. We got this coconut soup (his choice) and he said make it a number 2 on spiciness. I got (pineapple rice) and said make it a 1 on the spicy scale. Miss Hollywood told me to get MILD. She knows that I can't handle the spice. It was SO FREAKING hot. I though my lips were going to burst into flames. He said it was very warm, and much warmer than usual. At one point, my eyes were tearing. He says to me, "little hot huh?" No my eyes are tearing for the hell of it!

Then the question of death for a spinster. He asked me why in the world I wasn't married. Classic. So I told him I hadn't found the right guy and I wasn't settling. He said he did, and wished he hadn't. So then he paid. Bonus. The night ended and he told me to call him when I arrived home. Safety precaution. So far....he was in my dating queue.

The Second, and LAST DATE with the Butcher

Once upon a time in a land called Diana's Life, I had a second date with THE BUTCHER. (Music from Psycho plays here).

So The Butcher texts me Friday and wants to check my schedule availability.

"How is Sunday?" - Butcher
"Fine" - Diana
"I will make you a honey butter pecan glazed Chilean sea bass"- Butcher

"I caught you a delicious bass"- Napolean Dynomite
"Are you going to eat those tots?" - Napolean Dynomite

OK, so Sunday rolls around and I figure he will tell me when this shin dig is going down. So around like 5, he calls. Really? 5? OK, so he says, I will begin prepping dinner at 7, and we can eat at 7:30pm. I am like OK. I decide to bring a bottle of wine as a nice gesture, and I don't know how much sea bass costs, but I am nice like that.

So he gives me his address. (and I inform my people where I am going) I want to know that my friends are aware of the birthmark on my inner right calf. I also want to know I was missing when I am found floating in Lake Lewisville. So I drive to BFE, There were kids on the street, IN THE DARK. Clink, clink. That is the doors locking in case you were wondering.

So I get there. I knock on the door. And he enters, get ready, wearing gray SWEATPANTS, and I am pretty sure the white polo he wore on our Thursday date. Last time checked sweatpants didn't come until 6 months down the road, you have the flu, and needing to be rushed to the hospital. Clearly not the SECOND date. Good grief. Miss Fashionista would have just fainted, or turned around got in her car and left. (Next time, I will.)

PAY ATTENTION HERE!!!

So remember, when I told you that on his profile he marked that he was never married. And then at the Thai place he said, well I was married for 1 1/2 years. I was like OK. I am sure there is a good reason for keeping that to yourself. Benefit of the doubt. UNTIL....he is living in her house. Yep. The x-wife's house. Go figure.

He THEN tells me, he has a 19 year old daughter. WHAT!!!???!!! I said, "You are kidding, right?" WRONG. He said, well I got my high school sweetheart pregnant, we had a daughter and put her up for adoption, but it was an open adoption and I recently just met her.

Now mind you, I had a very long conversation with him on the last date, of how I didn't want to date a guy with kids. I am not a hater, I just prefer to start my own.

So I figure, I might as well go for the TRI-FECTA. So I ask, have you been to jail? He says, WHICH TIME? Are you kidding me?

Well now that I have the ball rolling, let's just keep going...

Don't worry, I also told him about my great dislike for ASPARAGUS. He decides to cook that. Awesome. I said, "hey buddy, I don't like asparagus." He looks at me like this is the first time he has heard this. I said, "hey, I will try it, but I don't like it." I had one top, and then that was it. Now mind you all this prepped food is ready at 9:00pm!!!! I almost was dizzy from starving to death.

It gets better...

He has a roommate (that he also failed to mention - according to our first date, he owned a house by himself, or at least that is the impression I had), the roommate is some dude he has been friend's with since high school.

He has a good dog and an evil pit bull puppy that jumped on me every 5 seconds, until I made a face of the dog needs to be outside or trained.

In polite conversation, I mentioned washing my car and saving the cash, which prompted, "I don't save money, I buy new toys when I want, I am not really good at saving money." RED ALERT, RED ALERT. ABORT MISSION.

Then on our first date, he gives me a speech about being passionate. So I figure OK, your passionate about cooking, what are you doing about it to get to your goal (ala the bed and breakfast). Nothing. He has no goals. No cooking school experience. He learned everything from "EXPERIMENTING" So he ISN'T a chef, he just likes to cook. LIKE MY MOM. And my mom is a killer awesome cook. I have the cookbook to prove it. So I said, "well have you thought about learning more about it?" His reply, "No. I might take a nutrition class." Oh fabulous, then you will be the best chef in THE WORLD!!!

He said, well my bed and breakfast is on hold, because I lost my financial backer. Guess who? THE X-WIFE. Apparently she made 3 times more money. Guess who is not signing up for that? THIS GIRL!!!

So needless to say, I got the WHOLE story, thanked him for dinner, and went running and screaming out of the house. No, not really. I left. I texted, I made it home OK. THE END.

So I know you guys think I am nit picky and this is why I don't have a man. But the one thing that bothered me the most is he lied. He started off lying, and then it just got worse.

Spinster out.

Throw your coat on that puddle, so I can cross.

How many men do you know that hold a door open for a lady, send hand written thank-you notes, attend every event without fail and always maintain good conversation? Yep, I can think of very few. A handful maybe, one I must include would be my dad.

Once upon a time when I was growing up, I was taught manners. I remember the lessons well because they were beat into me and as you may know my parents psychologically traumatized me as a kid. I will give you 2 really good examples:

1) The Dinner Table

In order to leave the table, you had to ask permission. I hated and loathed this rule. It was every night and it was a beat down. I tested the rule many times, all were unsuccessful. It had to happen just like this,"Mom/Dad, May I please be excused from the table?" You could not say, "Can I be excused?" You could not say, "hey I am done, can I get up?"

2) Please and Thank you

I had to say please and thank you. This wasn't too hard. Especially since they would go, you would like what? and you had to say it again and then say please or thank you.

Now to the story at hand.

Once upon a time, I had a date. I met this dude on Eharmony, named Mark. He seemed nice. He was working on his PhD. I like smart dudes. I have to, being the smartest girl in Bedford. So he was 6''4, and was from up north (Ohio). Now, Ohio State still sucks, but northerners are cool people. So he said, and I quote, "let's meet for a drink" Since he was new to the area, I drove to Addison, which is a 30 minute drive. I arrive. He comes in. He looks like a teacher. He has a weird wool coat on. It's trendy, but very professor like. Think Sean Connery in Indiana Jones, the search for the holy grail. So I had all ready got myself a beer because I got there early. We get a table. Conversation is fine. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Then I say, well I better get going because I have work in the morning. The waitress comes by and get ready for it...

Waitress: "all on one?" (this means, both of our beers on one check)

Mark "SEPARATE"

I was like, WHAT? I thought I heard him wrong until the lady brings me my own bill of $12.00.

I am sorry, last time I checked, if you do the asking, then you do the paying. What is wrong with people?

I took a survey on this issue. My mom, was naturally ticked off, and then said, "your dad would never do that" Same with my work folks. My close friends told me to give it 1 more date just in case it was a fluke. So I did.

Our second and FINAL date was at the Kimball Art Museum. He had to drive and hour. That satisfied me. At least when he told me he drove an hour, I think I might have had an evil grin on my face. I drove 15 minutes. We went in and got tickets. When the price was announced, I stood there looking into space. He paid. But the kicker was that he used his school id. REALLY! I know your still in school but you are 36! So the cheapskate alert went off. Then afterwards, we went to Starbucks. Yep, I got a venti, or whatever the hell the biggest one is. We chatted, then I went home and he went home.

I am not all that impressed. Haven't talked to him since. He was probably pissed he had to pay. WHATEVER.

Good luck finding a girl who wants to keep paying for herself. I all ready have to pay for myself. I am single, remember!

The End.