The Boyfriend Effect

Once upon a time, I finally found a boyfriend (cheers are allowed).  So it's almost like when you tell people, they say one of two things, 1) AWE, great!  or 2) Finally, dude.  It's really a toss up.  I mean, I consider myself a good catch, but it appears that I am the lucky one.  So let me tell you why and give you some examples.  First, he is a friendly guy, here is a picture of good ol' Jimmy.  He would kill me if he knew that is the name I gave him in my blog.  Well it was that or Giovanni.  Well whatever, I am the blogger.  

Ok, so that really isn't him.  Put this is how I kinda picture him, since he is in sales.  He basically can make this same gesture and it's spot on.  However, I noticed that when I introduced to him to a few of MY people, they would facebook friend him.  Now you are like Diana, so what?  He sits back and lets the new friends roll in.  You know what, YOU'RE WELCOME!  Then, my parents, I actually asked my dad, hey who is the last guy you liked, that I introduced  you to?  Brent *names have been changed to protect the innocent X-boyfriends of my life*  I mean basically, my parents haven't liked anyone I dated since HIGH SCHOOL!  Hello.  What happened?  I said, oh hey I am going to date a bunch of douchbags for 17 years.  Apparently so.  They do, however, like Jimmy.  FINALLY, dude.  (see I say it too, sometimes.)  

So then the compliments roll in, "oh, he is so well mannered", "oh, he is so handsome with good hair", "oh he has a lovely smile", "oh he cooks, how did you luck out?"  Well I PICKED him, damn it.  Where is the credit going?  I mean he didn't show up on my front door.  I had to SEARCH.  I mean, yes, my past record hasn't been great.  BUT, I weeded those fools out.  I have kept my standards, anticipating that I would find Mr. Right.  So there you go.  I am pretty clear on the fact that I can't cook.  So hence since he loves to cook, I love to enjoy and sample that good cooking, plus I do clean up people!  He's taller than me.  Well folks, I didn't wake up yesterday and go, oh hey, I am so tall I think I will date a short guy so I can feel like the Amazon chick I am EVERY OTHER DAY OF THE YEAR!   I mean my friends make me feel like that because they are all 5 foot nothing.   I have used these important tools to design what I am looking for.  Now he isn't perfect, but that is for another day and another blog.

Now I will tell you this.  I can tell you that I do truly appreciate him, because, I dated all those douchebags, and when you have been through that fun, you will truly savor the day you meet someone sweet and caring.  It's like going to the path of righteousness in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  "Only the penitent will pass."  I swear, I am Indiana Jones, and I have to go through all these little tests to get to the cup, which might be Jimmy.  It's just a comparison, don't get nuts now.  I happen to reference 80's movies, so get on board.  Miss Hollywood gets it, so you should too.  

Just remember all the great things he is getting.  Here, I will help you with a list:
1) NOT crazy
2) Has a job (if you can call it that)
3) Blonde with no split ends, and TALL
4) Hilarious, thoughtful and friendly
5) Financially responsible
6) Brilliant

I mean, it's a wonder it took this long.  

The End.

The Great Divide

I just recently had a conversation with my co-workers in regards to manners and respect.   We know that manners differ around the world, but we forget that they also differ from region to region within the United States, too.

I was thrown into the North verses South debate of whether or not to say “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, Sir.” Southerners are adamant and I mean that to the fullest extend of the word, that this shows good manners and respect when both adults and kids use it. While Northerners use please and thank you a lot as well as other polite expressions including “Sure” or “No problem”—we can’t bring ourselves to add the “Ma’am” or the “Sir.”  I consider myself a person with good manners.  I do say thank you A LOT, and I am quite sure I am the 'Princess' of written thank you notes. 

I have also read that northerners have said not to say “Yes, Ma’am,’ or “No Sir” as “it sounded subservient.”  I tend to agree.  However, I am in the South and I accept that it is a sign of respect. 
Good manners or subservient? Is this what it boils down to? After listening to lots of “Yes, ma’ams” throughout my life, it has became both familiar and pleasant. None the less, truth be told, it is difficult for me in turn to say “Yes, ma’am” and “No, Sir.” It would take longer than twenty years for me to adopt. 

So who’s right? Well no one. Just as it’s good manners to slurp your noodles in Japan or to belch after a meal in Taiwan, no one is right and no one is wrong. Different people with different histories, traditions and culture develop different rules.

So what’s the answer? Please don’t judge us too harshly when we don’t say “Yes, ma’am” or “No, Sir”! 
As for respect, and titles, I might see things a little different.  Now my close friends who have kids, have their children call me 'Your highness'.  Actually that would be awesome.  However, they call me Miss Diana.  My God-kids call my Diana, which makes no difference to me.  However, in my work environment, I call people by their first name.  They are people that I work with.  I mean no disrespect, but I see it as we are even.  We work in the same environment.  I will call you by your first name whether you are 22 or 62.  I really don't see any issue with that. 

HOWEVER, the ladies I work with insist that you put a Ms. or Mr. in front of people that are your elder.  For me, it depends on the situation.  It also depends on how I am introduced.  If I only know you as Mr. Johnson, then I will tend to just call you that, unless corrected.  Now my man (yep- do you see how I stuck that in, like it was totally natural?) has a mother that happens to be 92. (long story) I recently got her a birthday card.  I was torn as to whether I should call her Ms. Williams or Helen of Troy (but she isn't from Troy, but some po-dunk town you haven't heard of ...I digress).  So I went with Ms. Helen.  I am an adult.  I respect her so that is why I added the Ms, well that and she is 92.  Now this man of mine (see - there is a little ownership there but not too much like he is my property), he calls my parents Mike and Carol, (yep - like the Brady Bunch).  I don't care, and I am sure they don't care.  I mean, this smart ass guy would tell you they are just happy there is a man around.  (SIDEBAR - Yes, I am grateful because I dated a lot of frogs, but I know I am the best thing he has EVER found, and I know this because he once told me he was waiting for 'crazy'...I might be the first one that isn't!!!)

The End.

THE Missing Bra

Once upon a time, I have not blogged in quite a while.  So to all my millions of followers, I apologize for the lack of humor in your life these last few months.  ONWARD.

So, as you may or may not know, I loathe early mornings.  There are several reasons why, but I am quite sure it stems back to my mom having me at 12:04AM.  Basically is a birth right to a night person, and NOT a morning person.  Many people have fought me on this idea, but have lost.  There are several examples of how the morning is truly the thorn in my very large foot.  For starters, the alarm always goes off too soon.  I am sure it doesn't help, that I like to stay up late.  The second thing is, I sleep walk to the bathroom.  Imagine a zombie movie and then insert me in the morning.  It's basically the same thing.  Now, to add to the picture you have in your head.  Recently, my left foot has been killing me.  The middle of my foot.  Well in the morning (because it is morning and morning is evil), it REALLY hurts, so picture a limping zombie.  Hopefully it's getting better because of my hot foot doctor.  We shall see.

So typically Mondays are the most rough day for me of the week.  Fridays, I hop out of bed....well I move slightly faster, but not much.  So last night, I couldn't fall asleep.  I am sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I was watching Power and Privilege on channel 38.  It's like 20/20 for murder, death, kill cases.  SIDEBAR:  It's like a mystery, that says, oh the rich guy's wife killed him for someone hotter and she also wanted the rich guy's money.  That's about 90% of them.  Oh and I was playing candy crush, level 38, until  I ran out of lives, then I listened to new ring tones.  I mean, clearly I was overusing technology.  So finally, I turn everything off and lie there, and eventually fall asleep.  So 5 minutes later, it's morning.  Well that is at least what it felt like.  So I hit snooze once.  ONLY once, so I though, hey this morning may not suck.  WRONG.  That was just the beginning. 

First, I opened my top drawer to get a bra out. Well they were all in the laundry room hanging up.  No problem, I will go get one on my way downstairs.  Proceed with the getting dressed.  Then, I put my hot mess of hair up in a ponytail.  So I threw on some make up and headed downstairs to make my lunch.  Yep, I did nothing but sit on my ass watching tv on Sunday night, heaven forbid I make a lunch then.  I think I will do it Monday when I barely have enough time because I can't get my zombie self out of bed. 

So I hurry to get to the train station and as I arrive, the train was leaving without me.  Unbelievable.  So as I am turning around and heading down the road, I hit the freeway and I my seat belt is on.  But something seems a little off.  I realize, I am not wearing a bra...

Now if this was MIss Italian Accountant, there wouldn't be a problem.  Just recently she mentioned to me that she doesn't even wear a bra half the time.  You see she is a negative A.  Her work uniform is a tank top and shorts.  She has a virtual office.  I could only hope to have that job some day.

So for a moment, I thought I really need to go home and get one.  BUT THERE WAS NO TIME!  I literally get anxiety from being late to things that require me to be on time.  So I continued to drive.  Needless to say, I pretty much got out of doing New Hire Orientation.  I mean I have a suit coat at work that is rather small.  Not to mention, I have done the New Hire Orientation for several weeks and I just had a few days off, so I think this may have caused exceptionally rough morning.  So someone else did it.  That was the perfect way to get out of doing New Hire Orientation.

The End.

The Year of Diana???

Once upon a time, it became 2013.  What?  Ok, so here we are in 2013.  2012 had it's ups and downs, but so far this year has been relatively good.

Here is a list of good things that are coming my way:
1) I am going to New York City for my 35th birthday.  Holler!  With 3 girlfriends and possibly the gaybors...
2) I have a job (which funds these trips)
3) My house happens to be clean
4) I met a decent guy.  He stands up when I go to the lady's room.  It's nice, surprising, and what I would consider a party trick.  Not everyone does that, which makes others curious or jealous.  I am good with both.

Things that could be better:
1) I win the lotto before I go to New York City
2) New carpet magically got installed in my house
3) I get promoted???
4) I didn't have this sinus infection or stupid cold and could breathe through both nostrils.

Things that will be coming up:
1) a blog about the Greyhound bus.
2) the Superbowl
3) my birthday month
4) the end of this cold or sinus infection!

That is the lists of 2013 for now...

Reasons for Health Insurance...

Once upon a time, I got shit-canned and needed to have my annual OBGYN appointment.  Now, really I just needed to renew my prescription.  However, the doctor won't do it if you haven't visited him in a year and/or have paid your dues.  (the insanely expensive office visit, to put your feet in the stirrups (SIDEBAR: which is still more fun than going to the dentist.  I HATE THE DENTIST)).

Soooooo.. I called my doctor, who I really like, and his total office visit was going to cost me $236.00 without insurance.  I don't know about you, but I'd like to not be thrown out of my house, so I think I will pay the mortgage instead.  My back up plan was to call Planned Parenthood to check out the damage there.  Well for a mere $85.00, I could get my prescription.  Perfect.  I made an appointment, thinking it would probably all happen in 10 minutes.  WRONG.  But after talking to Miss Mobster Accountant, I should have hit the county clinic.  Note to self:  I will do that next time.  I am sure it will take me back to my lovely ride on the Greyhound Bus.  Let me give you the quick breakdown.

Reasons Planned Parenthood Kicks Ass:

1. It's a mile from my house.
2. It's cheap.
3. The people watching might be better than the airport.  It's a toss up.
4. They have prints of Monet in the patient room, for Culture.
5. They call in your prescription.

Reasons Planned Parenthood Sucks:

1. I made an appointment and waited an hour to be seen.
2. The scale is a liar and dates back to prehistoric times before digital scales roamed the earth.
3. The waiting room has hard metal chairs.
4. A woman yelled at the employees because SHE forgot her medicaid card.
5. It makes me thankful for when I did have insurance.

SIDEBAR: I wish I had picked up several flyers about STD's just to send to my friends, and I thought about that after I left, and I have been regretting it ever since.

Regardless, I was the easiest patient they had that day. No live births, no current children, no allergies, no questions.  They were probably like WHOO HOO! 

The End.

Spinster for life?

Once upon a time, this was supposed to be a good year for me.  The year before the big one.  No, not 40!  Relax Frances!!!  I mean 35.  All things come together at 35 right?  Well I have 7 months to get it together or my life might officially end. Miss Fashionista has all ready called me this week inquiring if I was hanging from the ceiling fan.

So naturally my mind resorts to how I am a spinster.  This generally happens when I come back from a wedding.  (I've only been to both hands and feet amount of weddings)  The last one was my cousin, Mr. All-American.  I think he is 27.  Then there was 3.  So my brother isn't married (nor can I imagine him being married), and then I have one more unmarried cousin, and lastly me.

So here it is:

Definition of SPINSTER (according to Merriam-Webster)

1: a woman whose occupation is to spin

2 a archaic : an unmarried woman of gentle family b : an unmarried woman and especially one past the common age for marrying

3: a woman who seems unlikely to marry 

oh and in case you are cool and hip like myself, here is the other definition provided by the Urban Dictionary.

  

Definition of SPINSTER (according to Urban Dictionary) - there were several, I just picked the first one.

1: Old unmarried woman. Not necessarily a virgin.

I guess I like the term spinster better than old maid, because those remind me of playing cards.  

Well I am about to show you why through the wonderful world of on-line dating.  I started sending these to a friend of mine with captions, and she seemed to get a real kick of it.  So might as well pass it on.

I have blocked their face to protect the (alleged) innocent.  So here is bachelor #1.  

Bachelor #1

Let's review.  Is fluorescent wife beater tank tops the new norm?  Not unless it is circa 1990. Perhaps it is to show off the gun show?  Did he just throw the peace sign?  It's not the Beatles peace sign, but you get the idea.  Don't worry, his kids are over 18 and I think he has a job.  I get a little concerned when men who are close in age with me have a kid that's 20, and they are 34-35.  Do the math.

Here is bachelor #2.  

Bachelor #2

Last time I checked, I wasn't starring in a role in Tombstone.  SIDEBAR - Bill Paxton should have died faster on that pool table.  This is like a serious handle bar mustache, and it's a self portrait and it's in the kitchen, which I guess is better than the bathroom.  You know what I am talking about.  Really guys?  Can you not have someone, a neighbor, your mother, anyone, take a decent picture before hitting on women online? 

Hers is bachelor #3:

Bachelor #3

 First the picture is crooked with a clearly forced smile and most importantly, HE IS IN THE BATHROOM with the same shower curtain in the movie Psycho.  I mean it.  One hand a camera phone, the other hand a machete!  SIDEBAR - Machete don't text.   I also can't quite tell if that is a loofah in the background.  If it is, he is out (among other reasons) because he USES a LOOFAH.  Get a bar of soap, be a man, and get on with it. 

Here is bachelor #4.

Bachelor #4

 This is the last one, I promise.  Along with the bathroom photos, comes the I am in my car, aren't I cool photos?  This one worries me and I will tell you why.  He is 19.  So he graduated high school LAST year.  Why is he sending me a message?  I am basically Mrs. Robinson to him.  SIDEBAR - what's sad is that he has no idea what that reference means.  He does however remember the Power Rangers (which I don't).  He can't buy me an extra dirty martini, or can he rent a car if I am not mistaken.  What will we have in common?  He was born in 1993!!!  I was dreaming about my learner's permit at that point.  

The morale of this story is, it's tough out there.  I bet you had no idea.  

The End.

Tales of the Unemployed...

 Once upon a time, I woke up at like 7:45 AM not because I wanted to, but because some stupid car alarm was going off.  I was hoping that it would stop.  It did, but only temporarily.  Then it kept going off.  So I tried to dream about getting a baseball bat to smash the windows and drive it onto the freeway in a high speed chase so you could watch me on the news.  But... instead I decided to get up.  I was honestly happy it wasn't the lawn crew.  I mean why do they have to start at 8AM for crying out loud.  Oh I know, because it is a million degrees here.  I have some pretty big plans today.  I figure I will have to put some clothes on and head to the store.  You see I am out of toilet paper, and I am pretty sure that the check out person doesn't want me to show up in a sports bra and some knit shorts.  Although if it is a guy check out person, he might not mind so much.  BUT, before I do that, I have to watch Dallas.  It was taped last night and I have to leave it because that will give me something to do the next day.  I have to be very strategic about how to fill my day.  I want to know why Ann is so upset about this necklace that Harris gave her.  What the heck?  I have also decided I probably need to give myself some projects around the house to do, like spring cleaning but only I will deem it summer cleaning.  Surly there is some crap I need to get rid of around here.  My desk looks like a bomb went off and I have about 9 pairs of flip flops at the bottom of the steps.

I do actually have some social activities going on later.  I am to meet the Miss Italian Accountant's pseudo boyfriend from Denver.  He is also Italian which is totally unfair. 

I mean I realize that there will never come a day when I have a tan.  More freckles perhaps, but never a tan.  That doesn't mean that I don't  like men with olive skin and no acne.  If they cook me lasagna on our first date, I will marry him that day. 

Back to the Miss Italian Accountant.  This dude's name is something like John, but they call him by a nickname, because his last name is like Modoalfredosauce or something like that in Italian.  He is worried as he should be, because I will have to be hard on him to make sure he is worthy of my friend Miss Italian Accountant.  He does like t-shirts though, so that is a plus for him.  I mean who doesn't?  I mean if he also loves sandwiches, I might have to throw in the towel and like him.

So today I started a project, my bedroom.  It was time to clean out the end tables and the dresser.  So I start with the end tables, well I found about 10 books I have to read now.  After that, I moved on to the dresser.  NEWSFLASH:  I have about 10 pairs of the yoga pants.  Perhaps I need a job as a yoga instructor because I clearly have enough yoga pants.  The only problem is that I sometimes wonder how come my feet are so far away when stretching.  I know they are long, but I am not very flexible.  Miss MovieStar is though.  But that is a whole other story that is rather R-rated, and she will probably take out my knee caps if I blogged about it.

So after thinning out the yoga pants collection, I moved to the jewelry.  I bet I spent a good 30 minutes on my bedroom floor untangling 2 necklaces.  I mean hey, when you have some time in your day, why not?  All my necklaces are hanging by category, like beads, silver necklaces, pearls and so on.       

So then my doorbell rings, and I literally have the face of terror. 

Part of me is just hoping it is a door to door salesman trying to get me to switch to Green Energy.  So luckily I had put my Everlast shirt on.  It has cut off sleeves and it looks like I am about to either beat someone up or head to the boxing gym, but I realize, it's better than only a sports bra.  So I answer the door, and to my surprise it is a giant arrangement of flowers.

I don't care what some crazy women say about not wanting to get flowers.  I am not that girl.  I love flowers, I love getting them, sending them and it will never get old.  Plus, these have GIANT lilies which are my favorite.  They came from dear Austin friends.  It was really a nice surprise.  Perhaps I will get dressed today!