Royally Sleepy

You probably thought I was going to give you the rest of my vacation update.  Foiled!  We'll get back to that - in lieu of today's timeliest event.

Who got up at 4:30am this morning in order to make a 5:00am Royal Wedding Viewing Party?

That's correct.  This numb nut.

And while I can't be sure that any dudes at all read this blog - I'm guessing that if there is even one, he has just had one of the best eye rolls known to, well, man.

Men around the world are shaking their heads in bewilderment this morning.

I'm shaking my head too, actually - it's full of cobwebs from that early wake up call.

Dear Prince Harry,
A few thoughts.
When you marry, please do it on a Saturday.
Also, late in the day would be preferable to those of us in America.
Also, I'm available.
From, Me
xoxoxo

So why do we do it?  Why get up before sunrise and get fully prepped - tiara and all - to gather with a gaggle?

Because any and every girl in this world - whether they admit it or not - wants to marry some version of Prince Charming.

No one sets out to marry Prince I'm-a-Loser or Prince Sometimes-I-Lie or Prince Hey-Did-I-Tell-You-I'm-Married? or Prince Man-My-Personality-Changed-Once-I-Said-I-Do.  Well, you get the idea.

In our girlhood fantasies, there is a big white puffy dress, a carriage, a set of perfect bridesmaids who still like you come the big day - all assembled in front of a variety of beautiful people (think of those old Benetton ads) under a Carolina Blue sky.  Not too humid, not to windy, no sign of rain except for some random rainbow appearing at picture time just over the head of a wandering unicorn (where'd that come from?). 

And if Kate the Kommoner can do it - then why can't the rest of us fantasize about it?

And who better to share your dreams with than a bunch of your buddies with a pile of crumpets on hand?


Of course, there are only a few brave souls daring enough to suggest a 5am party - but you all know one or two.  Those people who only need the mere suggestion of a reason to host a gathering before dashing out a quick Evite luring folks to their homes.

Get up at 3am to prep said house - done!  Just not at my house.  My house would have had nothing that looked like this:

Or this:



I would have told people to bring their own coffee and breakfast and probably rolled downstairs five minutes 'til go-time in my pj's.  That's why it's good to have a friend who is just close enough to crazy to do stuff like this.

Here's my thing.

There are plenty of those "Where you were when..." moments that are downers.  Where were you on 9/11?  Where were you when Reagan got shot?  Where were you when the Space Shuttle went down?  Both times.

So as silly as it may seem to celebrate a wedding taking place thousands of miles away among a family that we really have no connection to - well, I like the idea of having a "Where were you..." for something really fun and good and frivolous. 

And while I'm rubbing the eyeliner off my lids for the rest of today - at least it will be with fond memories of how a totally unnecessary thought turned into a tiara-ed glam-fest.  Plus, I know we weren't alone.  Viewing parties were a go all over the world. 

My guess is they were quite empty of our male counterparts and better off for it.

At our party - we were in the actual dream making business (pretend this picture would behave and rotate right 90 degrees): 

Can you imagine a better way to spend a few minutes before heading off to preschool than with a tiara, pink robe and cake on a stick?

This was the start of something great for this little gal - knowing that women get together to bond for just about any reason at all. 

Frivolous or not.

Four am or not.

Life in the Studio Audience

When I signed up our group to see a taping of the Chelsea Lately show, I thought, "This is going to be so awesome."  That was really where the thought ended - just a quickie.  Later I read the studio provided instructions - specifically the part on how to dress...

"Hip, upscale attire...."

Who exactly did they think was coming to see the show?  Oh, right - hip, upscale people.  OR....the four of us...faking it as best we could.

So, after we walked the littlest member of our party to school and continued walking a few extra miles to rid ourselves of some beer calories, we all came home to prep our hip, upscale attire.  Somehow, I was assigned as the bench march.  Which is hilarious.  Especially if you've seen my closet.

It only took us two hours to collect ourselves appropriately before we headed to the studio.  Requested arrival time was 1.30pm.  Being over the typical age of silliness (or so we thought), we did a drive by at noon just to make sure we knew where we were.

Then, to kill an hour we did a tour of the area, had a Larry David sighting and got ourselves in the audience line.  Turns out you don't get to just walk right in - you have to stand outside and sweat a bit, make friends with the people around you and pick out the ones you are going to make fun of later (no cell phones allowed, so we actually had to speak with each other during this time).

Big excitement during the wait - for me - was seeing Chunk!!  That's Chelsea's dog.  He was out for a pre-show whiz.

A few hours later, we were shuffled into the studio - which was WAY smaller than it plays on tv.  I mean, yeah, the camera adds ten pounds...I just didn't realize it made studios look larger than life as well.

The warm up dude...well, his mode of warm up was dropping the F-bomb as much as possible.  Which...you know I'm a huge fan of - so that just shows how overplayed it was.

I mean he didn't even appreciate when my partner in crime answered the "Anyone from out of the country?" question with a shove (to me) and a "She's from NORTH CAROLINA...."  It was funny.  Trust.

As he wrapped up - it became clear, this would be no casual viewing experience.  We were led through a series of hand signals - which we would have to know in order to properly view the show.  So we would know when to laugh, when to clap and how funny the jokes were.

Come again?

When I watch at home - I just laugh when it's funny.  No one even has to tell me to laugh.  I just know.  And if it's not funny, I don't.  But now we had to laugh no matter what.  Because a silent studio is evidently not great television.

First lesson - the golf clap.  This would serve as the background clapping during the round table comedian introductions.  When our audience tutors golf clapped, we too would golf clap.

Second lesson - the medium excitement cheering. Not quite a 12 on the scale of one to ten - but enough to audio-ize something better than a golf clap but not quite as awesome as, well, sometime really awesome.



Our cue here was for the dude to do a horizontal-armed-come-here kind of move with his hands.


The apex of excitement was when our cue dudes raised their hands way up - encouraging us to raise the studio roof.

Now here's the thing.

When you've got some guys giving you all these instructions and you're trying to peek around cameras and follow what the heck every one's doing - all of the sudden, you have zero idea as to whether what's happening on stage is actually funny or not. 

Of course, Chuy was there - smaller than on tv - if that's possible.  Oh wait, it is possible.

As it was Passover, he brought with him a Hasidic Jew to share his area. 

Our round table crew was Michael Yo, Natasha Legaro and Scott Wolf. They were pretty funny. I think? I was really too busy making sure I was animated enough for the cue dudes.

Luckily DVRs from here to Pennsylvania and North Cackalacky are set to record the show so we can try a normal viewing experience.


The for sure funny thing was - how dang tired the whole experience made us. We came home, stripped out of our hip, upscale wear and about collapsed for the day.  I've got no idea how we're going to handle the 5 hour taping of the Price is Right on Wednesday.  Thank goodness we have a low day of sight seeing tomorrow to rest up with. 

In our regular not-so-hip, sale wear.

Flying In-Flying Apart

Mixed feelings in Burbank ~ so excited to be here that I woke up at 2am, 3.30am and 5.30am ready to get the day started! But, as I was flying into Los Angelos yesterday, things back home were being ripped apart by 62 tornadoes. I got off the plane to find my phone blowing up.

/>In the interest of full disclosure, I've heard people talking about their phones blowing up and responded with a blank stare. I'm not quite so popular that my phone ever blows up. Yesterday, I found out exactly what it means - I came off the plane, turned on my phone and had approximately a BAzillion weather alerts, texts and voice mails. Obviously, my first thought was, "What the F??'

While I was flying the friendly skies, my homeland was being ravaged.

I'm super thankful to have accounted for all my pals - and super sad for the nearly two dozen lives that were lost. I'm grateful that my home was untouched - and thinking about the growing number of people who are without today. I'm on vacation feeling a little guilty - knowing that if I were in Raleigh today I'd probably already be volunteering at a shelter or with clean up. But, as many of my buddies have told me - I'm here, so enjoy it. And down times generate a need for laughter in my book. So the blog will go on as planned.

Yesterday's Adventures Across the Country:
I was up and on the way to the airport ON TIME for once. I have a gift at never leaving for the airport on time. This means I have made many mad dashes for gates and have been late picking up approximately everyone who has ever come to visit. But this time - I was out of the house by 7.30am.

Plenty of time. Heading up Eagle Trace. Turning onto Southall with hours to spare.

Until my ride and I noticed a pretend dog running through the streets. It was a Chihuahua. Collared. Scampering up and down a very busy interesection. Obviously we immediately stopped the car and went in full pursuit of Yo Quiero Taco Bell. Soon three more cars stopped to help. With each arriving superhero, we'd announce "That's not our dog", as if to prove we were way better than that. We'd never let our dogs (who are real and weigh more than a few ounces) run free like bandits in the old west.

The rescue mission was a fail. Said dog had no interest in being caught. We gave up and left the task to those with more determination.

We drove to the airport underneath the darkest clouds I've seen in ages. For a gal who is not a fan of bumpy flying, this was not a great sign. But I got my bagged checked in, through security, though a cup of coffee and to my prime spot in the boarding line - and still no rain.

I'd opted to purchase Early Boarding on Southwest this trip - hey, it's vacation - and dang if it wasn't worth every penny. I got the first row - the one with all the spare leg room. Which was lucky for my deceptively long limbs.

Now, one of my character sparkles is that - when I get nervous, I misplace my verbal filter. Which barely exists anyway. So, as the flight attendant was reviewing seat belts, exits - and then life preservers...I got a bit confused. And thought, "Ha, if we need a life preserver, I feel like the bigger issue might be that we're lost." I mean, we were flying from North Carolina to St. Louis, after all.

The bigger issue turned out to be that the thought was not a thought - but spoken out loud. Doh! No harm - Southwest is the airline with a sense of humor.

We were then prepared for take off - which was announced as being "Shuttle Style." Um, come again? In order to avoid the high winds, the pilot would be dropping the hammer and taking us up at the steepest angle he could. It was awesome - and jerky - but super quick. Well done.

The first hour or so of the flight was fine - I was relaxed, kept my cool, hung out with my seat peeps...

Then I checked my watch and realized that, as it was 11.30am, I was never going to make my 12.15pm connection. Again - the out-loudness thing happened. Which was fortunate because I was informed that we'd lost an hour flying to St. Louis. Lucky break!

Flying into St. Louis - I was the asshole on the plane who screamed "I SEE THE ARCH!!!". Causing the whole left side of the plane to press their faces into the tiny windows in their own attempt. Flying into St. Louis, I also noted how green every thing was this far south.

Turns out, St. Louis is not in the south. Turns out the whole reason Southwest keeps maps on their napkins is so those of us with no sense of geography can get a quick lesson at a moment's notice.

I made it! Flight One, check.

I was in the St. Louis airport approximately 30 seconds before starting shopping at the gift shop. Two t-shirts later, I got a pretty decent glare from security from leaving my bags unattended. My thing is - how unattended do they have to be to be truly unattended? I mean, I was ten feet away at the register - well within quick tackling distance should anyone have tampered with my stuff.

Onto the next flight. Where I started right off on the asshole foot by asking the pilot on my way in if he'd be flying us over the arch. So I could get my camera ready. We did not...

I did score the awesome seat again.

I think the crew was pretty psyched about that because every 1/2 hour I asked them what we were flying over now. As in, "Are those the Rockies?" and "Is that the Grand Canyon?" and "Why are there crop circles down there?" and "When will I be able to see the ocean?". It really didn't take them that long to stop saying, "Hang on and I'll ask the pilot."

And when we finally began our approach to LAX - the true hick came out of me in statements like, "Holy CRAP those a big buildings!" or "That city goes on forever!" or "Can anyone see the Hollywood sign?" or "Is that O.J.'s neighborhood?"

I bet Southwest is counting down the days until I'm back on board.

Within a half hour of arriving at my buddy's house, I was in the pool and working on my tan. The only glitch was the pool was about 40 degrees and my diving boards skills weren't what they used to be. But, the hypothermia is gone and the wounds on my foot are healing.

Today's tour - Olevaro Street - the founding point of LA. Tomorrow, Chelsea Lately. And maybe Tuesday. Wednesday, we've just reserved for The Price is Right. While I do hope to 'get on' the show, I also imagine I'd be the first contestant ever to get sucked under the showcase showdown wheel....which could be awkward. But would also save Southwest from a lot of awkward questions next weekend.

You might be OCD if....

Just a few hours left until Spring Break 2011!!!!!!!!!

As my niece would say, "Womp!"

I don't know what that means.

If you know me at all you know that planning for a trip involves me taking on the task of packing well in advance. I don't mean a few days. I don't mean a few weeks. I mean, a good month for a full feeling of comfortableness.

I like to pack and unpack. I like to check the weight of my suitcase. I like to see how much I can stuff into a two-gallon Ziploc because a suitcase packed with large Ziplocs is ransack proof - especially if you're the gal who constantly gets her stuff checked by the TSA.

Now - we've all determined that the last six weeks or so of my life have been a bit hectic. So, it should come as no surprise that I hadn't packed last month for this month's trip.

Actually, that SHOULD come as a surprise. There's always time to lay out clothes, make spreadsheets and review mental checklists.

But, I have my new pseudo-roommate for six weeks - and her room is the Where-I-Lay-Out-My-Clothes Room. Can't do it in my own room - because that's the dog's If-You-Lay-Out-Your-Clothes-Here-I-Will-Lay-On-Them room.
Okay, I'll stop the suspense.

I packed on Sunday. For my Saturday trip. Womp! That's some kind of record! Wednesday, I unpacked and repacked. Thursday, I took out a few things. Tonight, I'm going to switch out some shoes. And maybe a few other things.

There is no doubt I have too many things in the suitcase. But, I blame the weird weather here on the East Coast for my doubting I'll get any consistency on the West Coast. Plus, if I run into Prince Charming and he wants me to stay, it's important to have four extra pairs of everything.

Shoes. Pah. The reality is tonight will be the most serious run though.. The one where I decide on carry on options. The one where I convince myself that I really can't read two whole books on the plane ride to Burbank and therefore only need to carry on one. The one where I convince myself that there will be nourishment available to me at the airports - that I don't need to bring a pound of M&M's or Twizzlers or bananas or apples. The one where I talk myself out of putting just one more something in the suitcase because, if I sit on it, it will fit.

I will try to get this all done fairly early so that I can get in bed at a decent hour in order to spend the whole night wondering if I'll ever fall asleep.

California - here I come. With all my craziness.

What? You noticed that I mentioned a roommate earlier? Yes, at the ripe age of (still can't say it) I thought I'd invite a med-student and her pets into the fold. Don't worry MD2B...I'm about to talk about you in a good way.

My buddy is doing her rotations - the current of which is at the hospital two miles down the street. So when she was having a moment of panic, I came to the rescue and offered up the spare room at Casa Mucho Perro Piel.

I forgot, however, exactly how long I've lived alone. Or that there might be a slight adjustment to the urge to talk to myself.

It's going well though - really - she's as quiet as a mouse and is doing much better at really, really, really explaining her day. Like with smaller, less medical oriented words.

The real killer was on Tuesday when she made me eat a whole plate of zucchini and squash. Lived to tell the story. Proud of myself. Not sure I'll come running to the table next time - but thrilled to have someone cooking for me.

Right of the bat I got caught walking around half-naked - there's a habit I have curtailed. Actually, I haven't because if she's going to be a doctor, she's probably seen half-naked people before.

And yesterday when I caught her on the back porch sound asleep in the sunshine with her How to be a Doctor book next to her I thought..."Okay, now Med School seems pretty cool."

Her dog and cat are staying with us as well - Cody & Mojito. Cody is the only dog I've ever met who is afraid to go outside during daylight hours.

Cody also used to have a favorite person...his mother. And while I can't say for sure if his loyalties are shifting, I'm just saying...well here's a picture from last night after I'd left for a few hours to play tennis. I mean, clearly he missed me.

Fine - before you point it out, I do realize my own dog is no where near me at this point.

But that's only because she was probably upstairs trying to make a bed out of the well packed items in the suitcase.

For the ladies.

I debated and debated even writing a blog this week - mainly because my gloomy mood doesn't match up to my witty wordsmith ways.  But then I imagined people wondering what happened, why I was a slacker, if they'd been cut from the subscription list, taken off the fan mail list, etc. etc. 

But still I debated.

Who really wants to read a blog about a crappy week? 

Who really wants to hear that sometimes even the best, creative, fun, inspiring, thought-provoking people (that would be me) can have a plummet of emotion for no reason at all.

Turns out a lot of people.

Mainly women.

I have no idea why this was the week that my mental capabilities took a cliff dive.  I have a lot of suspicions though:

Crazy Busy March
Crazy Fun March
Lots of Friends in March
Turned 40 in March
Inhaled a whole pine tree in March
Really - you can see the problem. 
I should have skipped March.

Because suddenly when April rolled around last weekend - my body and mind was like, "Simmer down, Trigger, we're done."

I do have a habit of running at 120 miles per hour 99% of the time.  (Obviously I don't mean actually running).  And then coming to a quick stop at the end of the energy rope with a jerk.  I think a lot of women do that - trying to be everything to everyone and then finally when they've exhausted themselves - just collapse into a puddle somewhere.

So that was me.  And is me.  Although I'm making progress.

The problem is that about mid-morning on Monday I was hoping for an express pass to the funny farm so I could just curl up in a white robe on a white bed in a white room.  Which then didn't make sense because who can really catch up on their sleep in such a bright environment?

Mind you - I've gone from a sinus infection to allergy season and therefore haven't been able to get good clean air for a good month.  I don't know why the ongoing feeling of suffocation would bother my mood.  Or why waking up every hour to once again attempt to cough a lung through my esophagus would cause me to miss valuable sleep.

And being smart - I just went ahead and made Monday appointments with both the head doctor and body doctor to load up on both make-me-breath and make-me-relax drugs.  And being not smart, opted to take them both at once.

Which lead to Tuesday's expression of discontent from the stomach area of my body.  So then, I was not only mentally spent but also living in a physical revolution so bad that I had to go to the doctor yet again.  FML.

It's a wonder NASA never came calling with those kinds of smarts.

I guess if anything good comes out of this week it is this - girlfriends are my lifeline.  I've never once called up a girlfriend brimming with tears and had them tell me anything but, "Oh, you're having a total breakdown for no reason?  Yeah, that happens to me, too."

Or in later days, "Why didn't you call me?  I would have come over and sat with you!"

Women need each other.  Women go through stuff.  Women need to release the river some days.  Women will hold each other's hands, pass along tissues, offer hugs and spend hours simply listening to the sobs on the other end of the phone.

There will never be a judgement.  There will never be a smirk.  There will never be a 'I'm just too busy."

There will always be an understanding.  There will always be encouragement.  There will always be an "It's okay, I get it."

And no matter how many times you try to express how incredibly stupid you feel, they'll have none of it. 

I get really frustrated at not having 'real' problems.  I know how ridiculous that sounds - that I'm upset because I'm not really upset about anything particular.  But I look around and see women with real issues -sick kids, fertility problems, douche bag baby daddies, money woes, unemployed husbands, etc.. 

And then I think, "Yeah, I can see why my post-March-dum depression would rate.  But it does.  In their book.

So I guess why I decided to share this is so that you know that you're not in the mud alone.  I've been there.  I am there now, but am working my way out. 

And I just wondered why women don't talk about it more often so that we all know it's okay. 

So go tell your friends now that sometimes you lose your cookies for no reason - so that if they do later, they'll know they can call you. 

Maybe I should start one of those Facebook Status Update movements. 

"If you or someone you know has ever lost their mental cookies, copy and repost this to your status so people know you're just like everyone else."

Actually, no let's not do that.  It drives me bonkers when people do that.  And I've declared this week a bonkers-free zone. 

Crazy, yes.

Bonkers, no.

Still, I'll take Two Points for trying.

Before anyone calls foul on being left out of the loop - I do promise to backtrack on this story.  And it was ready for posting last week...I just got distracted by my 'real' job and forgot...

Here's the difference between men and women. 

You share SHOCKING news with a woman and she will talk with you for hours dissecting every detail, scenario, meaning and possibly result of this news.

You share the same news with a man and you get this:
Me:  "So, that dude I was pseudo-dating?"
Brother: "Yeah?"
Me:  "Yeah, he's married."
Brother:  "Oh...(something-something-something).  So, you're not like all emotional, right?"
Me:  "Nah, I actually don't really care."
Brother:  "Oh cool.  Because Top Chef's on.  And I have to see who gets kicked off."

And you know what?  I caught myself laughing over and over whenever that conversation repeated itself in my head. 

I'm just going to give those of who fell straight to the floor when I uttered the word 'dating' three minutes to brush yourselves off and get back to your seats.

Okay.

Is everybody good now?

I mean, granted it's been a while. 

And, no, I don't shout from the rooftops whenever I do browse the man aisle. Not my style really. 

But...because of the awkward ending yesterday...I felt it worth sharing.  Plus, I know all my lady friends want to real story.  Not the chopped down for Top Chef version.

This actually started several weeks ago when I realized I had far to much money in my bank account and therefore needed to see who would take some from me.  Plus, my 'Check Engine' light had been on for, perhaps several months, so off to the mechanic I went.

I got a bunch of new spark plugs and some interesting vibes from the dude at the front desk. 

Long story short - by the time the day was over, I had a new friend of Facebook. 

More long story short - by the time the week was over we were texting basketball banter back and forth as the ACC Tournament got in full swing.

Should have known right away there was something shady about him.  Big fan of State.  But, I have friends who pull for State and I like them just fine, so not a great clue.

Blah, blah, blah, we ended up watching a couple of games together over a few beers and it was fun.  No really 'deep' conversations, just a lot of banter.

And we became regular text buddies. 

Now, let me just say this ~ and perhaps show a little piece of my age.  The last time I really dated, there was no such thing as texting.  Thank goodness no one under the age of thirty reads this.  Otherwise I'd have to insert a whole paragraph here as to how in the the name of Are You There God It's Me Margaret we used to communicate with one another.  I've already given up on trying to explain "Why Grandpa Doesn't Text" to my nephew.

Anyway - this totally threw me off my game.  Or maybe the fact that I have no game threw me off my game.  Hard to say, really.  Either way - put me in a room, at a table, on a bar stool, at a concert - and I'm good to go.  I'll talk to anyone about anything and they'll like it.  Texting?  Not so much. 

But...the few people I did tell about this assured me that texting was was normal, that I should keep plugging along and give it a go.  It was like an after school special.  Everybody does it.  It makes you feel good.  Don't text and drive.  Yadda yadda.  Many of these tips were followed with "and don't sabotage this!"  Pshaw. Moi?

So I kept plugging along. 

Along the way, I learned more about how much he loved State, about his loss of a sales job a few years prior (hence the gig at the auto shop), that he grew up in Raleigh and that he had kids (two).  Nothing ever came up about a divorce - but, who'd be out there dating if they were still married?

Still, no real phone calls, no planned dates - always last minute - nothing beyond surface chatter.

But I hung in there.  Even though my dating allergy was really beginning to kick in.  I mean it was fine that the only time we could get together was late night (for me anyway).  It was fine that all our conversations were via text (I'm hip now).  Oh - plus I wasn't even sure he was cool enough for me.

Red flags?  Just ignore those.

One night last week, tv let me down.  There was nothing to entertain me.  For hours.  I was super bored.  Recon began.  I'd never checked out dude's Facebook page thoroughly - so off I went to get to know him.  Checked out his buddies - saw a few with his same last name - family members probably.  I spied on a one.  Then another - a sister no doubt what with the shared last name.

A sister.  Who just got back from a cruise.  Who had the same cruise pictures on her page as dude.  Except in these pictures - well, she was actually in them.  With dude.  And the kids.  Looking not so much sisterly as....wifely.  (Really, people, who leaves their profiles as 'public' anymore?  Well, maybe someone who know her husband is out on the prowl.)

Surely I hadn't missed the fact that he had an identical twin.  Or maybe he was just super close to this sister?  So close that they had children that really, really, really resembled each of them?  But a three second glance at her wall indicated a wonderful birthday dinner with (insert his name) and their kids.  A mere few weeks prior. 

Rutrow.

Brakes.
Screeching.
To.
A.
Halt.

Now - here's the funny next few hours.  Being a girl....I spent a whole lot of time mulling over whether I'd miss something or misinterpreted something or confused something or was sabotaging this.

Alternating thoughts covered things like how I really didn't like him that much anyway or how it was really no big deal or how it was nice to be back in the rodeo for a second or, most importantly, where I would be taking my car the next time.

Check your fluids?  Pass.

I have a really big rule in dating.  I mean after the I-Generally-Don't rule.  I will never, never, never, ever be the other woman.  I just won't do it.  I've had my heart stomped on like a grape at a vineyard because of an 'other woman' and I will never do that to someone.

That being said, I'm not against a little fun.

And the fact that I knew dude was married - but he didn't know I knew - sort of left the door open for a little fun.

I went to work the next day fully prepared to make it a day of unforgettable text messages.  Texts like he'd never seen before.  Texts that he'd only dreamt about on his best days.

Except three texts in I wanted nothing to do with dude anymore and handed my phone over to my work husband with instructions to handle it.  Who then had some fun of his own, pretending to be me.  After several open-ended-you-have-the-chance-to-fess-up questions, dude still kept the vault locked.  At which point, we went in for the kill.

Of course.....shocker....dude promised a very long, thorough, dramatic explanation.  And when I passed on story hour, he actually got a little peevy in his next text. 

Thus ending my dabble in the dating pool.

But for the record....I did not sabotage this. 

And also for the record...."Are you married" will no be moved up on the 'getting to know you' questions to immediately follow "What's your name?"

And also, also for the record - if you ARE married?  Don't date.  It's pretty simple.  So simple, I never thought it was something that should be pointed out.  What do I know.
And now I've got to cut this short.  Because Survivor's on and I have to see what Phillip does tonight to piss off the rest of his tribe.. 

Wait...maybe men and women aren't that different.