I'm back I think. Am I back? Oh hell, I don't know.

I write this post for several reasons. A) Brandon sassed me about not writing about whatever it is I write about, B) Liz asked nicely and C) I realized today what it must feel like to be insane.

First things first, quick recap. During the last year I have:

1. Gotten a job at a catalog company wherein I write and edit copy and manage marketing stuffs.
2. Moved into a new apartment which I'm renting from my parents. This means that my mother can scamper in there at any point in her day and she totally does. Just a few days ago I discovered two random lamps.
3. Watched a key to my apartment pass through my mother's hands and on to the plumber, AC man, two of her friends, and some guy named Rudy. It took me 3 weeks to get one from her.
4. Decided to apply to get an MBA. I'm not through yet and I'm rockin' the South. Just visited New York and though I love my peoples, I don't like dirty things.
5. Dated and dumped/been broken up with by two boys. Both lovely, attractive people, proving yet again that there IS something wrong with me. Take THAT, self-esteem!!
6. Gained a hippie hairstylist who believes that I'm naturally very intuitive. He wants to teach me how to swing dance. And read my chakras.
7. Officially become Amy's maid-of-honor, my highest goal in life. I strive to make her wedding day run smoothly and promise not to get drunk off my ass until 10 pm.
8. Bought a stocking for my pumpkin. His name is Edgar.

So that about sums that up. And I think #8 is a perfect place to start to explain my brush with insanity today. I decided today was the day I would finally get my father's birthday present, as well as gifts for my coworkers. As I'm typing this I realize I forgot one, which makes my left eye twitch a tiny bit, but I'll worry about that later. Post buying books and CDs, I moseyed on over to the café to purchase a life-affirming pumpkin spice latte and some holiday tea and encountered who I think might have been the stupidest employee I've ever met. Don't get me wrong, she was a real sweetheart and I'm not usually impatient so overall the interaction didn't bother me, but she did manage to mess up pretty much everything she could have. She also charged the girl behind for a random membership when all she wanted was mints, but I'll get to that later. As a result of her coworker having to remake everything the Blondie* had done, I had ample opportunity to stand and observe. It was a red-letter day. I tried to buy two tins of tea, she asked me if I wanted them hot (Me: "I don't get it..."). I try to buy a sandwich cold, the girl toasts it.

At some point some guy named Rick came over to correct a financial transaction Blondie had attempted (see above: mints v. membership). In that moment I was reminded of a skit on SNL I had seen with Amy Poehler where she plays a young girl with an uncle Rick (Horatio Sans). In the skit she makes this guttural scream of sorts trying to get Rick's attention, saying, "Rick! Rick! Rick! Riiiiiiiiiiiick!" I find this sketch very amusing and had an almost uncontrollable urge to mimic Amy's gut wrenching yell. I actually do it quite often, but you know, at home with my family or something. Never in public and never with a large group of strangers whom it would be impossible to explain myself to. And it wasn't the original impetus that worries me, it was the difficulty I had stopping myself. Even when I realized what it was I was doing, I almost couldn't block the sound. It was akin to being at a party and halfway through asking a woman when the baby's due, you realize she's just fat but you have to finish the statement. You know it's wrong but your mind's on autopilot. I think that must be how crazy people are, except without all the self-awareness and latte buying. To be honest, it might have been worth socially ostracizing myself for the shocked looks, but that doesn't make me insane. It makes me "eccentric". Stop judging me.

* Not a judgment, she really was blond. With lots and lots of electric blue eye shadow. Viva la 80s.

Best Phone Call Received This Month

Oh yes, my friends, all capitalized. So I rolled my ankle in soccer about a week ago and the little bastard hasn't gotten any better. I could blame the seven carafes of coffee I drink a day or the fact that my family is naturally at risk for osteoporosis or that I never really remember to take my calcium supplement. Or I could blame it on the fact that I have such delicate joints, but really that's not the point is it? The point is that I was prompted to give CVS a ring today to see whether or not they had ankle bracers. Too many times have their "medical supplies" spurned me. I don't know what they carry at that store, but I can tell you that it includes a hella amount of cough suppressants, toothpaste, and condoms. Fool proof strategy. Anyway, thought I'd check with the store before actually scampering over there to have my heart broken yet again by their version of "first aid". Aide. Whatever, you know what I mean. This conversation was short and sweet and ragingly hilarious to me, so much so that I actually told 3 other coworkers about it, all of who couldn't have cared less. So maybe you'll find it amusing:

Guy: "Hi you've reached CVS on Irving Blvd, Jason speaking."
Me: "Hey, do you carry ankle bracers?"
Jason: "Sure. What is it for?"
Me: "... ... ... Really? I mean, my ankle?"
JJ: "No no, do you want the flexible one or the one with the little sticks?"
Me: "Flexible."
J-man: "Please hold."
**a short time later**
Jay: "We have a few kinds that range in price from $18 to $18."
Me: "... Wow. Thanks for your help!"

And that was pretty much it. In other news, I am now heading up marketing for my company due to a medical leave of absence on the part of our VP of Marketing and Human Resources. Since I've never done it before and since this woman didn't write anything down, it's certainly been interesting, but for now it's not overly complicated since I've outright ignored the need for press releases and instead worked on sending out products and images for editorial "credit" (by which they mean vague acknowledgement, but to a magazine person it's like the Holy Grail). Today I got a request from a person named Mikki (pronounced "Mikey") who sounded like she was 12. I realize that Mikki/Mikey may not have seen our magazine, but she must know something about to have all of the requisite information. It was just an odd exchange because when she asked for the image, she asked for "preferably something professionally done, but I'll take a high res image".

Okay, if you are a CATALOG COMPANY you only have professional photos. Me taking my digicam out into the warehouse and shooting some dusty candelabra in an unlit corner just isn't going to cut the so-called mustard. Maybe I should offer her a high res crayon drawing done by a 6 year old, but little Billy was taken away by the feds when they found out we had been working him 15 hours a day and all of his little crayons were worn down to their stubby ends. And now I can't even remember what I was talking about.

Its like my own teeny plague

I know I haven't posted in a while, but I'm posting now out of desperation.

There is a fly in my office that is, and I'm not kidding about this, the size of a small cat. That bastard has been living in here and whizzing around my head for about a month now and I think I've finally reached the limit of my patience. He brought all of his little friends in last night and guess what? I opened up a big ol' bottle of pain with my Napa Style because it's the ugliest catalog I have ever seen and the man who owns it quotes himself. That's just ridiculous, but I digress. I thought I had gotten the ringleader too, but he's back and I think he's angry. Frankly, I'm frightened for my life and everyone is out of the office until tomorrow morning. Any suggestions on how I'm going to kill the biggest fly I've ever seen are welcome. In the meantime, I have adopted this strategy:

1. Scream like a little girl every time it comes within 5 feet of me.
2. Try to squelch screams to maintain my aura of professionalism.
3. Valiantly take a swing at it with my Napa Style, Harvest 2005 edition. Yeah, I'll "Celebrate the Flavor of Life", Michael. Jerk.
4. Return to crying softly over my lean cuisine because I have been out thought and out maneuvered by a fly for OVER A MONTH.

Seriously, I hate dating

*sigh* You know how sometimes you go on a date with someone and they're just really kind of not interesting? And sometimes said person is attractive enough in their own right, but if they don't manage to say something to pique your interest in the first, oh say, 7 hours of your involvement it just never seems 'worth it'? Well, I do. Lately most of my dating life has been primarily a variation on said story. It seems that I've had more date offers in the recent past than I historically have received. This is probably due to a number of factors that I'm primarily unaware of and, frankly, I'm not sure I want to know because I have come to the decision that I hate dating. I don't hate snacking, snogging, snuggling, or whatever the hell it is I'm supposed to be doing from a romantic standpoint, I just hate the whole dating process.

First of all, there is no way that hours upon hours with one person can remain interesting. At least not when both party members are constantly questioning whether or not a) they have something in their teeth or b) they were supposed to have made out by now. Thought processes like these tend to turn someone's brain into a creamy noodle soup and, while most people seem intrigued by this, I am simply weirded out by it. The only times when I have been so relaxed as to completely enjoy myself is when I know there's no danger of stray thoughts or phrases that might imply that I'm fair struggling with myself to keep my pants on. These relaxed moments tend to come when I'm hanging out with a girl since, obviously, this situation is a no brainer. I even have a few guy friends that aren't gay or dating someone where I have achieved this status, but even that is a constantly changing situation, but that's another post for another time. For now, let's focus on dating someone who I probably won't end up liking. I mean, don't know very well.

A good example is the dates I have been on recently. Whenever I have been on a date with someone from match.com, unless they really bowl me over, I've pretty much checked out after 30 minutes. This may seem unfair, but since the whole dating process doesn't interest me, the matchguy has to really catch my interest, as I do his. The only caveat I can find in this situation is that, no matter how intelligent or funny he may be, he doesn't care what I have to say unless he's positive we're going to be dating for a while. I could be wrong about this, but I get the impression that most of the guys I've been out with think that, at the very least, every date is salvageable because of the chance of nook. If I'm even remotely attractive, they will stick it out because who knows? I could be a raging whore. Huzzah!! But from a girl's perspective, the chance that I'm going to drop and give him 20 or whatever else it is he's expecting is pretty slim.

What usually ends up happening with the matchguy is that I will go on one or two dates in order to secure my lack of feeling for them, then I will call and tell them politely that I'm not interested. Apparently, this is the mature and sane thing to do according to most of the guys I talk to, including my local DJ. I could lead the guy on, get free dinners, etc, but I don't because I am an adult. And yet, when I say I'm not interested, the automatic reaction they have is that I'm a bitch. Huh. And here I was NOT being a wuss by confronting you. So I will take suggestions from people on how they think it is best to dump people I was never dating in the first place. In the meantime, I shall think of a few on my own below:

1. Kick them in the shins.
2. Kick them in the face.
3. Send them a gift certificate for a kick to the shins and face.
4. Eat 100 lbs of protein and bench-press them in half.
5. Force them to watch Electra.

I like #3 and #5 together as a package deal.

Biggest mistake EVER

I would like to apologize to anyone who cares (probably just Liz at this point) that I haven't blogged lately. Ironically, I've quite a bit of exiciting stuff (via my estimation) going on, I was just sick and then, you know, lazy.

ANYWAY, my top news is that I have taken the plunge and joined match.com. Why, you ask? I can hear it now, "Meg! You're so awesome! Remember that time you were in a bad mood and gave me the look of doom? That was so romantic! I can't believe you're not dating anyone!"

I KNOW. But, life has taken it's delicate little turns and here we all are. Me sans a bf but with a bff, and some lucky man sans 2 insane cats and my personal insight on that movie Electra, and I'm still not sure where those 2 hours went. It's like my life just vanished because the movie was so bad.

Well, let me just say that I must look amazing on paper because guys have been "winking all over me", as Richard says. There's a couple of interesting prospects, but what I find most fascinating is that, despite my age range limitations (23-30), I get 35 year olds and over contacting me all the time. Why would a guy that old want to date a 24 year old? I am not looking to get married. In theory, we should be at such different places in life that we would explode if we ever came within 10 feet of each other. Yesterday I imed some 31 year old guy because I refused to call him on the phone. To be fair, I really hate the phone except for conversations with a select few people, so that guy can suck it. At any rate, the conversation was the iming equivalent of ramming my face repeatedly into the wall. A recreation below:

Me: So what's your favorite kind of music?
Him: I have a game we can play. (emoticon)
Me: Um, super.
Him: It's a variation of 20 questions, but really we just switch off questions and we both have to answer. (emoticon)
Me: Yokay. I'll go first. What kind of music do you like?
Him: Everything. Okay now you answer. (emoticon)
Me: No, really, what kind of stuff do you listen to, what are your favorite bands, etc.?
Him: I like cultural stuff...
Me: Cultural how? For example, what are some of your favorite bands?
Him: There's just too many to list lol (emoticon)
Me: Why don't you try to toss out a few.

You get the picture. Like pulling teeth. And trust me when I say it doesn't get any better. So online dating is not everything it could be, but I suppose it doesn't matter since I didn't really stop to think about it too much. Here's the problem with this whole situation: I am sooooooo uncomfortable with this setup of emailing people and then knowing that they're probably lying to you in some manner. I am the most unromantic person I have ever met so it's hard to invent this ideal relationship before I've even met the guy. And when I do consider meeting people, there's always the worry that I'll just waste that hour of my life. On the flip side of the coin, I've gotten really good at subtley inserting self defeating comments into preliminary conversations such as "White people suck!" and "Christmas is the only holiday worth celebrating!" and "The Midwest is whitest and most intolerant part of the world I've ever seen!" Do I believe these things? Not really, no. Well except for the bit about Christmas. Although now that I think about it I'm recalling the various high points of Labor Day, but that is a discussion for another time.

Good times on the internet

I have spent a lot of time lately looking at the personal ads on Craigslist. Not because I'm shopping them, although that's not beyond me, but rather because I find them so consumingly funny. The w4m, or "women for men" are alright but predictable. Most of them are pretty much women showing off their junk in various and asundry sultry poses and then describing their ideal man. Ironically, I would argue that most of the time, that description does not include a body qualified other than a general "healthy". That isn't to say that women don't have some sort of preferred body type, but rather that they like to keep their options open. I'm looking at one right now entitled "I'm not a fairytale princess" that lists qualities that she won't compromise on and those she will. That's a descriptive list. It definitely weeds out the wheat from the chaff. No, certainly most of them aren't that helpful. Most of them are about a paragraph or two and say general things, but they're usually phrases like "I'm dancing and clubbing" and less "you must have size DD breasts". Some of the more amusing ones ask for sugardaddies and whatnot, and sugardaddies looking for women "to spoil" are pretty common on the m4w side of things as well. Moreover, every single one of them that includes a picture that is a picture OF THEM. Although I did just read someone's post that included the words "CATHOLLIC PRIEST". That's right, two L's.

Which brings me to m4w, or "men for women", in case you missed that part. The second post provided today is a married man looking for a mistress, though they neglect to phrase it that way. There seem to be lots of those, but I say "whatever". I'm a big fan of marriage so it bothers me, but it's also not my problem since it's not my values dying slowly inside of me a little bit everyday. Also, what does "petite" even mean? Why do all of these ridiculously tall men want elves for girlfriends? Which brings me to my main point, and this is going to be vaguely cruel, if you are not "the whole package", then you shouldn't be looking for only "the whole package". We all have faults. We love people because of and in spite of them. What we do not do is ignore our own faults and refuse to accept little eccentricities in others. Below I will provide a typical example of an ad on the m4w board:

*****

I am looking for a woman that has a great sense of humor, an opinion, and can hold her own in a conversation.

Please have the following characteristics:
Medium to long hair
Black or Brown hair
Beautiful eyes
Natural beauty
Spanish or Latin looks
Sweet voice
Tall
HWP
25-45 yrs.
Open Minded
Fun/Open Personality
Emotionally secure
No baggage
Dresses Up as well as Jeans

40yrs old, live in my own home, have a good job, good credit, take care of myself, and have been told I am cute.

If any of this has peaked your curiosity, drop me a line and let's chat.

Talk to you soon.

-Bill

P.S. Plenty of pics to send after we determine if there is any chemistry.

***

What the HELL? How SPECIFIC can we get?? Also, everyone has "been told that [they're] cute". My father says it to me all the time. Do I believe him? Hell no! He's my FATHER he's SUPPOSED to say that. I'm not saying men are dogs, I'm saying they don't understand the art of posting online. There seems to be a derth of people that understand how to attract what they're looking for, let alone anyone. Women have this problem too. They're too ambiguous and, thus, seem to get a lot of "let's just do it, hot lips", or so there posts have told me. Also, men seem to think that including a picture of a sunset is acceptable behavior. It's not.