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.

The Cruise Chronicles - Chapter 2 - The Airport

Dear Phantom Readers, I don't know about you, but airports taunt me. I am pretty sure it's only me. So as you know, after I got my nails, I did eventually leave to go to the airport to fly to Miami. My gaybors and I had a sweet hookup, so we got to park in the employee lot. So I hoisted my bag in the shuttle and to what did I notice, a co-workers wife. It was so nice to see her because she is crazy and would always bring me my first beer at the dreaded work Christmas party. I will always be fond of her. So after this little pleasant meeting, I hoisted my bag off the shuttle and made it to the security check in.


Security check in is a beating. Guess what else is a beating? Traveling on Labor day. Everyone and their grandmother is checking their floral bag. So I have to check my bag. I got secret cruise booze in there, and it wasn't just 3 ounces if you get my drift. So then I get charged a lousy $25.00. I can't wait until I am an MBA executive with a fat paying job. Remember when your bags got to fly with you for FREE? So then I get in the line to go through security. Usually they think I am the suspicious one. But I made if safely through the first go round. So we find Mr. Karaoke King, and head out for a sandwich. Little did I know that it is what almost saved my life. So we board the plane and all goes smoothly and we take off. I read a NON school book for the first time in probably a year and enjoyed that it was for pleasure and not a lesson. So we land and everything is working out great. One gaybor says, I will go get the rental car and pick you guys up, you guys get the luggage. I am like sweet. The plans were to go out to South beach and see Kourtney and Kloe Kardashian (well maybe just my plans). So we wait for an eternity and our bags come out and we are skipping out the door. And then I was hit by a wall, a wall of HUMIDITY! HELLO! Its like a MILLION %. I would never have straight hair again if I lived there. See example below:

So we get on the shuttle bus and we don't move. At All. We get our high tech phones out and what happens next. BOMB THREAT! Airport shuts down, we are stranded on a shuttle bus. Of course.

Upon getting back from my trip, I hear that it is a Texas Tech professor. Awesome. I went to Texas Tech. Thanks buddy for having me stranded on a shuttle bus. If I hadn't had that 20 dollar sub before I took off, I would have had to pick which person looked tasty enough to eat, just like that movie in the snow, when they had to eat each other to survive. to be continued...

The Cruise Chronicles - Chapter 1 - the Nail Salon

So this year I planned on going on a cruise with my gaybors and the karaoke king. But prior to leaving, I had to get ready. First I did laundry - what a pain! BUT, I did buy a few new clothes and had to pull the tags off and wash them. You know when you don't, you end up with black fuzzy armpits. I laid these clothes out in the staging room (also known as the guest room and past room of my roommate Mr. Basketball). Then I had to get my mani and pedi. So I arrive at the salon and I get the "new" girl. I am pretty tired from my day and just sit down so the chair can vibrate my butt to whisk away my stress. So Lynn, Ann or June or whatever her name is, sits down and says and I quote, "you married?" WTF!. It's like a painful every time I hear it. And don't worry, every chick in there has asked me the same identical question and so when I get to my regular salon I usually don't have to deal with it, and they probably whisper there goes that single girl. But not this day. So I tell her no, and that is why I can travel the world, because at that moment, that was the coolest thing I could thing off. If she had then said, "but you so pretty" she would have gotten a ninja kick in the face. So then my toes are done, sadly with no offer of a flower, and she starts my nails, "you want American manicure?, it look so natural." If I wanted natural, I wouldn't freaking be here. I want tropical orange because I am going to the tropics. I want color because that is the point of getting your freaking nails done, because if I did them myself I will have painted half way to my elbow! Then she asks me if I wanted my nails shorter, hell no lady! It is rare that I can even grow them this crazy long length. Paint them like they are! I mean who wants short nails? So then I go to the drying area and as soon as I did the down pour of rain began. Perfect. So now I have crazy long orange nails and an afro!

to be continued...