Once upon a time, I has a pretty good date with this guy. We will call him Jason Bourne. He speaks 6 languages. French, German, and like 4 more. Plus he is like a black belt in Jujitsu and craw magraw, or whatever it is. Regardless, he probably knows the "judo chop." On top of that, he has a Ph.D. Yesterday, he told me it was from Germany and first response was, does it even count? I know, I am terrible. He was also an Army Ranger. All of which, he has accomplished by 32. After hearing all that, I had to give myself a pep talk. Ironically, today, I read an article online about how one should not compare themselves to others even though it is basically human nature. Well that article came 1 day too late. I realize we have different experiences and all that, but dang.
Fast forward to the conversation that happened last night. We are chatting about this and that, and he was telling me about sparring with this guy at the gym and I was telling him about some work drama. So then the topic moves to football and he says, we should watch the Tech vs OU game this weekend. I can come over to your house and cook Carolina BBQ. Ex-squeeze me, a baking powder? I immediately blurted out, what not at your house? But in my mind, I was like, um, this would be like our second date...He said well, I don't have a TV. Am I in the Twilight Zone? Is it 2015? Who doesn't have a TV? My mind was racing. He then asks if I like spicy BBQ or sweet, and if anyone knows me, it's sweet. Spicy reeks havoc on my body the next day. My friend with the silky smooth hair used to be my spicy food tester at lunch. She saved me many a day of stomach deterioration. So while he is telling me the ingredients, I am off thinking:
Who is purchasing these ingredients? Who is preparing this? Do I have any propane and propane accessories? I would have to clean the house. I am not doing dishes! What kind of BBQ? Will there be beer to accompany this BBQ?
Fast forward to the weekend. So on Friday, he calls and I am not available, So later he texts me and says, what are your plans after hockey? Well it was a birthday party for my friend with silky smooth hair. I mean, the BBQ idea was gone and now he is calling to see if I am available the next day. Sometimes on a fluke I am available, but usually not. Sunday is my free and chill day.
Fast forward to yesterday. I talk to him and he tells me he is going "across the pond" as he puts it to go fight people in Europe. For 3 weeks. Alrighty...
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Gold Status
Once upon a time, I got a new job. Well it's not that new anymore, but I am only 7 months in. This job requires travel, which I am perfectly fine with. I've been traveling to...wait for it...Oklahoma City. If you haven't been here, but you have been to Texas, it's about the same, only smaller. A big focus seems to be the perks of travel (according to my colleagues) and this is the part when I tell you that I have reached GOLD status at the Marriott.
I have almost 100,000 points already. With a Marriott credit card and 3 nights a week in a Marriott for the last 12 weeks, you accumulate points pretty quickly. I think I get free internet access now too. I am almost to GOLD on American Airlines. I don't know what perk that is going to get me, other than boarding before the commoners. I literally live in the back of a plane. It has made me extremely patient when de-boarding. I mean, you can't really plow to the front, although I have imagined it in my mind. I have a learned a few things while working in Oklahoma. People like you to ask how their weekend was. They like friendly people, which I typically am. The mullet hasn't left. I saw a woman with tennis shoes on with pantyhose and flash-backed to the 80's. When I first arrived, I was pretty much hoping to meet a rich oil man who would allow me to live the life of leisure, similar to my mom. Alas, I did meet an MMA fighter, who looks like "The Thing" from the fantastic 4 made of all rock. Sadly, he has a girlfriend. This said girlfriend has 4 children. The hunt continues...plus, he is basically the boss of me. He reminds me a little of Vin Diesel, and hence that is what I shall call him, Vin, to protect the innocent, plus he is a lot more intelligent.
However, if he pulls up in a muscle car, I know I would die laughing on the street, especially if he ever recites the following, "I don't have friends, I have family," or "I live my life a quarter mile at a time. Nothing else matters, not the mortgage, not the store, not my team, and all their bullshit, For those 10 seconds or less, I am free." That would totally be fine if I were 23. The most amusing part, was when someone here at the client site spotted us doing something suspicious such as walking, talking, attending meetings and eating lunch. We weren't inter-locking arms and drinking champagne flutes in the food court, although that would make my afternoon fly by if we did. This mystery person told Vin's girlfriend. You know what I felt? Absolutely no guilt. I have not crossed any line, except maybe buying him a brass knuckle mug as a thank you. Regardless, we aren't planning a trip to a bed and breakfast.
So back at the ranch, (my house), I have decided to take up dating again. It sounds like a hobby doesn't it? Do you feel like this is a revolving door? Yea, me too, and it's my life. My running buddy, gave me some advice and it was to try. Maybe she happened to have good timing, because that weekend, I signed up for Match.com, and then a few weeks later, Coffee Meets Bagel, and then Tinder. I figured I might as well hit it hard. Go big or go home as they say. I think this was in like June. Fast forward to October when I actually get some dudes in the queue. It takes time to fill a pipeline or it takes me time to fill a pipeline. So I meet one guy on Coffee Meets Bagel. He is a teacher that looks crazy. His crazy, is what I found amusing and flattery will get you everywhere with me. So he texted me and then texted me some more. That is the conclusion of this story. That's all she wrote. Text messaging. Then, it just stopped. I tried. I did. But at this point, I really need someone to make an effort with me. A time, a place, a plan for crying out-loud. When I make an effort, it seems like I am the only one making the effort, and I am plum worn out. Maybe my typical, I am all in, is what is sabotaging my relationships. Maybe I just need to be harder to get. So Bagel has missed the boat with me. If he were to text me again, I might even text back, "who dis?" I am tempted, really tempted.
Onto the next guy, he showed promise early on. He has a similar job to me, where he travels during the week. It has to do with some hospital equipment and wiring. Literally, he has talked about it to me for several hours of my life and I am still not sure exactly what he does. It also appears he works with less than competent people. Some of the perks in the beginning included that he seemed financially sound. He even bought some land on Lake Texoma...for his art supplies. Imagine a car screeching to a stop. Art supplies? What? Next question, do you like sports, specifically hockey? No...a little part of me died that day. If you know me, then you know I need a guy's guy. The perks started to fade for me. Add the following: his brother lives with him because he is divorced, he is 47, which is 10 whole years older than me, and his voice reminds me of a character from the Simpsons. I am not trying to be mean, but once the voice is in your head, it's in your head. Fast forward, he asks me to dinner. I say yes. I made myself a rule of you can go on one damn date Diana. One date won't kill you. Fast forward to said date. I hardheartedly put forth first date effort. I curled my hair, put my face on, and did not pick out jeans. SIDEBAR: Once upon a time, I assumed the date would be jeans worthy (back in college) and I failed...and I failed miserably. Henceforth, I overdress unless it is discussed prior. I had a lovely blue silk shirt and some flow-y pants, matched with flat shoes. SIDEBAR: I am wearing heels from now on. I can't help I drank enough milk as a kid. This fool showed up in an olive green knitted t-shit. It didn't have a front pocket or a clever saying, not that that would have made it acceptable, but I would have been at least amused. He also wore jeans, and even in my flat shoes, I was taller. FAIL. 5'11 my ass. We went to Pappadeaux. He gets no points for creativity. NONE. Goose egg for him. However, I ran 11 miles, let me rephrase that, I was dragged 11 miles that morning. I would have eaten a snapping lobster out of the tank with my bare hands at that point.
I got blackened Mahi Mahi with dirty rice (the smaller portion). He gets stuffed shrimp of which he eats with his hands. There is a fork and knife nearby, but hell, it's a first date, pretend you are eating chicken wings, what do I care? He talked about work, I nodded. We order dessert (I burned 5,000 calories, stop judging me), and he talks about work. I check my watch, he talks about work. Then he goes, "are you ready to go?" I'll be damned if the ceiling didn't open at that very moment and church music started to play. I snap to and he walks me to my car. I say thank you, hug, and scene!
Stay Tuned for a new date story...
The End.
I have almost 100,000 points already. With a Marriott credit card and 3 nights a week in a Marriott for the last 12 weeks, you accumulate points pretty quickly. I think I get free internet access now too. I am almost to GOLD on American Airlines. I don't know what perk that is going to get me, other than boarding before the commoners. I literally live in the back of a plane. It has made me extremely patient when de-boarding. I mean, you can't really plow to the front, although I have imagined it in my mind. I have a learned a few things while working in Oklahoma. People like you to ask how their weekend was. They like friendly people, which I typically am. The mullet hasn't left. I saw a woman with tennis shoes on with pantyhose and flash-backed to the 80's. When I first arrived, I was pretty much hoping to meet a rich oil man who would allow me to live the life of leisure, similar to my mom. Alas, I did meet an MMA fighter, who looks like "The Thing" from the fantastic 4 made of all rock. Sadly, he has a girlfriend. This said girlfriend has 4 children. The hunt continues...plus, he is basically the boss of me. He reminds me a little of Vin Diesel, and hence that is what I shall call him, Vin, to protect the innocent, plus he is a lot more intelligent.
However, if he pulls up in a muscle car, I know I would die laughing on the street, especially if he ever recites the following, "I don't have friends, I have family," or "I live my life a quarter mile at a time. Nothing else matters, not the mortgage, not the store, not my team, and all their bullshit, For those 10 seconds or less, I am free." That would totally be fine if I were 23. The most amusing part, was when someone here at the client site spotted us doing something suspicious such as walking, talking, attending meetings and eating lunch. We weren't inter-locking arms and drinking champagne flutes in the food court, although that would make my afternoon fly by if we did. This mystery person told Vin's girlfriend. You know what I felt? Absolutely no guilt. I have not crossed any line, except maybe buying him a brass knuckle mug as a thank you. Regardless, we aren't planning a trip to a bed and breakfast.
So back at the ranch, (my house), I have decided to take up dating again. It sounds like a hobby doesn't it? Do you feel like this is a revolving door? Yea, me too, and it's my life. My running buddy, gave me some advice and it was to try. Maybe she happened to have good timing, because that weekend, I signed up for Match.com, and then a few weeks later, Coffee Meets Bagel, and then Tinder. I figured I might as well hit it hard. Go big or go home as they say. I think this was in like June. Fast forward to October when I actually get some dudes in the queue. It takes time to fill a pipeline or it takes me time to fill a pipeline. So I meet one guy on Coffee Meets Bagel. He is a teacher that looks crazy. His crazy, is what I found amusing and flattery will get you everywhere with me. So he texted me and then texted me some more. That is the conclusion of this story. That's all she wrote. Text messaging. Then, it just stopped. I tried. I did. But at this point, I really need someone to make an effort with me. A time, a place, a plan for crying out-loud. When I make an effort, it seems like I am the only one making the effort, and I am plum worn out. Maybe my typical, I am all in, is what is sabotaging my relationships. Maybe I just need to be harder to get. So Bagel has missed the boat with me. If he were to text me again, I might even text back, "who dis?" I am tempted, really tempted.
Onto the next guy, he showed promise early on. He has a similar job to me, where he travels during the week. It has to do with some hospital equipment and wiring. Literally, he has talked about it to me for several hours of my life and I am still not sure exactly what he does. It also appears he works with less than competent people. Some of the perks in the beginning included that he seemed financially sound. He even bought some land on Lake Texoma...for his art supplies. Imagine a car screeching to a stop. Art supplies? What? Next question, do you like sports, specifically hockey? No...a little part of me died that day. If you know me, then you know I need a guy's guy. The perks started to fade for me. Add the following: his brother lives with him because he is divorced, he is 47, which is 10 whole years older than me, and his voice reminds me of a character from the Simpsons. I am not trying to be mean, but once the voice is in your head, it's in your head. Fast forward, he asks me to dinner. I say yes. I made myself a rule of you can go on one damn date Diana. One date won't kill you. Fast forward to said date. I hardheartedly put forth first date effort. I curled my hair, put my face on, and did not pick out jeans. SIDEBAR: Once upon a time, I assumed the date would be jeans worthy (back in college) and I failed...and I failed miserably. Henceforth, I overdress unless it is discussed prior. I had a lovely blue silk shirt and some flow-y pants, matched with flat shoes. SIDEBAR: I am wearing heels from now on. I can't help I drank enough milk as a kid. This fool showed up in an olive green knitted t-shit. It didn't have a front pocket or a clever saying, not that that would have made it acceptable, but I would have been at least amused. He also wore jeans, and even in my flat shoes, I was taller. FAIL. 5'11 my ass. We went to Pappadeaux. He gets no points for creativity. NONE. Goose egg for him. However, I ran 11 miles, let me rephrase that, I was dragged 11 miles that morning. I would have eaten a snapping lobster out of the tank with my bare hands at that point.
I got blackened Mahi Mahi with dirty rice (the smaller portion). He gets stuffed shrimp of which he eats with his hands. There is a fork and knife nearby, but hell, it's a first date, pretend you are eating chicken wings, what do I care? He talked about work, I nodded. We order dessert (I burned 5,000 calories, stop judging me), and he talks about work. I check my watch, he talks about work. Then he goes, "are you ready to go?" I'll be damned if the ceiling didn't open at that very moment and church music started to play. I snap to and he walks me to my car. I say thank you, hug, and scene!
Stay Tuned for a new date story...
The End.
Friday, January 23, 2015
It's Always Something
Once upon a time, I started to get a cold. I am super mad about this because I got the flu shot. To top things off, I told all the people at work who are sick that I was invincible. This was probably my downfall. So what the heck? Well there are a couple of reasons how this could have happened.
1) the flu shot is b.s.
2) my gaybor infected me
3) sick people come to work
4) I ran out of my multivitamins 3 days ago...and here we are.
I really hate being sick. I hate that I am always out of the good tissue my mom gets me. It's the one with lotion. Yes...I too thought, it wouldn't make a difference. But, it does. If you have to blow your nose 1 million times, the lotion makes it tolerable. I am always out of chicken soup. ALWAYS. Why don't I stock up on this? Because when I get better, I don't need soup and I think, well I am all better. Ta da. I am also out of out of the over the counter medicine or it is expired. I just found some ZICAM that expired in 2012. Really? I could have sworn I had some Dayquil or something, but no.
It gets worse. TRAGEDY STRUCK...so I go to the fridge to get something to drink and my foot is wet. I am like hmmm. What did I spill? But it looks like a moat around the front of my fridge. Well the damn freezer is not working. How do I know? Well the Popsicle are dripping, the food is half thawed and I am swearing up a storm. I am literally a few hundred dollars from being totally out of debt.
I call my gaybor, the funny one, and he was like you can't refreeze that stuff or you will basically die. So now I have to cook a massive amount of food. For starters, 3 chicken breasts, and like 24 veggie sausages, shrimp, spinach and green beans.
Seriously?
NOW, I have to look for a new fridge. Luckily the freezer is the part not working. I went through several envelopes of money and well I have about half of what I need in cash. I am just mad.
It's always something. I mean, why couldn't the freezer break AFTER my bonus comes? That would be too easy!
Like I said, it's always something...
The End.
1) the flu shot is b.s.
2) my gaybor infected me
3) sick people come to work
4) I ran out of my multivitamins 3 days ago...and here we are.
I really hate being sick. I hate that I am always out of the good tissue my mom gets me. It's the one with lotion. Yes...I too thought, it wouldn't make a difference. But, it does. If you have to blow your nose 1 million times, the lotion makes it tolerable. I am always out of chicken soup. ALWAYS. Why don't I stock up on this? Because when I get better, I don't need soup and I think, well I am all better. Ta da. I am also out of out of the over the counter medicine or it is expired. I just found some ZICAM that expired in 2012. Really? I could have sworn I had some Dayquil or something, but no.
It gets worse. TRAGEDY STRUCK...so I go to the fridge to get something to drink and my foot is wet. I am like hmmm. What did I spill? But it looks like a moat around the front of my fridge. Well the damn freezer is not working. How do I know? Well the Popsicle are dripping, the food is half thawed and I am swearing up a storm. I am literally a few hundred dollars from being totally out of debt.
I call my gaybor, the funny one, and he was like you can't refreeze that stuff or you will basically die. So now I have to cook a massive amount of food. For starters, 3 chicken breasts, and like 24 veggie sausages, shrimp, spinach and green beans.
Seriously?
NOW, I have to look for a new fridge. Luckily the freezer is the part not working. I went through several envelopes of money and well I have about half of what I need in cash. I am just mad.
It's always something. I mean, why couldn't the freezer break AFTER my bonus comes? That would be too easy!
Like I said, it's always something...
The End.
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