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.