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.