Charming, but single

So, did you hear about my weekend? I had so much to say about it that
I posted the Weekend Update TWICE. (It’s been corrected. Sorry! This
e-mail a post function leaves more than a few things to be desired.)

Anyway, I have officially become a cliche. (Some might argue that this
I’m in a persistent cliche-like state, but what do they know?) In this
long single girl drought I’m experiencing, with boys boys everywhere,
but not a man to date, I have turned to the one thing that makes it
all OK.

Shoes.

A few weeks ago a bought two pairs of black shoes because I had killed
my favorite black pointy-toe pumps. (I simply wore them too much.) I
figured I should replace this pair with two other pairs, so that no
other shoes would have to meet such a sad fate. (I couldn’t throw out
the dead shoes. They’re sitting in my room staring at me with these
big puppy eyes, saying, “Put me in coach! I can handle it!” Poor
dears. They’re just too stretched out and they’re scratched up and one
of the heels has a big gash in it … I’ve got to stop wearing the
same pair of shoes for 18 hours in a row.)

Now, those two pairs of new shoes are great. I wear them a lot. But
they’re closed-toe heels and it’s summer, so I needed something comfy
for bumming around on the weekend. (To go with my cute summer skirts,
duh.)

So, I bought two pairs of flip-flops. (Not terribly expensive, but
still two pairs.) They’re cute and comfy.

So that brought the tally of recent shoe purchases to four. (Also,
since we’re going with an honesty thing, I’ve also recently purchased
two purses — neither of which is the black everyday purse I need.
But, pink! And, um, I got some new earrings. But I used my employee
discount and one pair was a present for my sister.)

So, yesterday I took a different route home to avoid traffic. I passed
by one of my favorite store for shoes and accessories. I didn’t stop.
I was very proud of myself. THEN, I saw the sign advertising a sale at
another similar store and my Jeep decided to stop. (It didn’t ask my
permission to stop, it just KNOWS these things.)

I browsed a bit and didn’t see much in the way of sale merchandise.
Then someone pointed me to a shelf in the back which was rife with
sale items.

Long story short, I bought two more pairs of black shoes. (The
saleswoman played me! After I had decided on just one pair, she
magically pulled two different styles out of the back in my size. They
weren’t even on the shelf yet! I had to buy at least one of them.)

Now, my friends, I feel that I can be honest with you. Trust me when I
say that I have more pairs of uncomfortable black shoes than I have
good sense. Seriously, the last thing I needed was more black heels
(especially black shoes with three-inch heels), but they were on sale
and I loved them.

Sigh.

So, I wore one pair today. They are literally the most uncomfortable
shoes I have ever worn in my life. (I almost took the elevator up one
floor instead of taking the stairs. Then I remembered that I haven’t
been to the gym in at least two weeks.) They throw me off balance and
the heel is too high and WAY too skinny. Also they kind of pinch my
toes. (They make my legs look fabulous though.)

And they’re sooooo cute.

Re: The lateness of this round up of my weekend — Hello, it’s March Madness. How can I be expected to blog regularly when there are so
many great games on all of the time? (Did you see Kentucky vs. Michigan State? Double OT? I don’t even LIKE either of those teams and
I was biting my nails.)

Thursday:
This counts as part of the weekend because I didn’t have to work on Friday. I went to the newest, hip, trendy, oh-so-cool restaurant in
town with a buddy from high school and some other people. (This city so fickle. Almost a two-hour wait now and it’ll be dead in six months,
I’m sure.) It was really good, albeit a touch pricey. (A friend treated, though, which was unexpected but nice.) The weather was
perfect and we ate on the outside terrace with a gentle breeze and beautiful stars. It was awesome.

I bailed on plans to go out afterwards because I was very, very worn out from work. (Meetings and reports and two hour conference calls, oh
my!) I had a great time at dinner, but you know how you have old friends that you’re friends with just because you are? You don’t have
that much in common with them anymore, but you’ve been friends since you were 16 and you figure, “Hey, what’s a dinner now and again when you’re in town and a few e-mails?”

Um, yeah. That’s what this was like.

Friday:
Attempts to sleep in were futile, as my body will not let me sleep past 8 a.m. anymore. I tried and managed to force it to almost 8:30,
but I still was up almost two hours before the alarm was set to go off. Growing up sucks.

Shopped and lunched with my mom, who also had the day off. I managed to squeeze myself in with our hairstylist. (My mom was getting her hair dyed, and I got mine cut while the dye set. So sneaky of me.) Finished the prep for Birthday Girl’s dinner and afterparty, bought a
present at this cute boutique, picked up the cake, realized I forgot to shave my legs in the morning, so I did the oh-so-cute trick of
shaving my legs whilst in full makeup, with professionally styled hair (I mean, why not have her style it after the cut?) and while wearing a skirt. Miraculously avoided cutting myself.

Dinner was for girls only in a small private room of a Japanese restaurant we love. We had a great time, but I was amazed that some of
the people who came did not order food. I picked the restaurant because it served sushi (which most of us ate) and traditional
Japanese food (for the non-sushi eaters). I was a bit annoyed that some people didn’t order anything but a glass of iced tea or
something. Order an appetizer or a house salad or a glass of wine or something, you know? The restaurant is devoting a server just to our
party, at least make sure she gets a lot of tip. Anyway, it was annoying.

I had a good time, but I was definitely in PR mode all night. I was interacting with the servers and making sure the cake was served and
the bill was paid and the tip was taken care of and no one ran out on their bill. (It only got worse at the bar we went to after dinner,
where the cocktail server put 25 people’s drinks on one person’s tab, rather than taking a credit card from each person. This meant we had
to have her break the bill out into 25 pieces, which annoyed her a took forever. She would also bring us bills in groups, so I spent 20
minutes trying to make sure that we had paid out. She finally got frustrated and said, “You know what, don’t tip me if you don’t want!”
So, I had to go smooth things over and explain that I, as the sober PR lady, was just trying to make sure she didn’t get screwed over at the
end of the night. Also, I tossed a $20 in with someone’s bill even though my one beer had been purchased at the bar and not from the
server. Between all of the bars and the dinner, I think I tipped more than I actually consumed. Good thing Birthday Girl is a wonderful
friend and deserving of a big birthday shindig.)

So yeah, after dinner, we (about 10 girls) headed to a bar, thinking we’d be the first ones there. Yeah, like half of our friends were
already there. So, we ended up with between 25 and 35 people, which was exactly what Birthday Girl wants. She bounced around and took
drinks and shots and flirted with every boy there. It’s amazing how a birthday can make you feel like a beautiful goddess with huge amounts of confidence. (That and four glasses of wine, four beers, an indeterminate number of shots and a designated driver (me!).)

I also had a good time. I played paparazzi and took a million pictures. I hung out with some guys I don’t get to see often because
they live out of town and generally sat around looking cute.

I did notice one thing. I tend to get involved in (either willingly or not) really serious conversations about not always fun topics. I have
really strong opinions about politics and current events, and so I always end up talking about these things at social occasions. I try to
avoid it, because I don’t want to be a buzzkill, but these conversations just find me.

My mom once told me that women with strong opinions intimidate men. I was pretty annoyed that she was encouraging me to not be so outspoken. I’ve always wanted to be with someone who could engage in conversation with me. And while I don’t go around saying things like, “Hi, my name is S and here is what I think about the government’s role in providing health care for the masses,” I do tend to get introduced as “S, who’s a hardcore [insert my political preference].”

I hate when women play dumb to impress men. And I hate that I’m even worried about all of this. I just noticed on Friday, after three
separate men tried to bring me into conversations about Terri Schiavo and other current events, that maybe I’m coming across as too serious sometimes.

(I’m sure my two readers are thinking, “Um, you can barely use an elevator and you expect us to believe that people think you’re
serious?” Tis true, my friends. I don’t talk about politics or current events here because that’s not my focus here. But I am news junkie in
the purest sense of the term.)

So, yeah, Friday ended at another loud bar. (Remember the Intoxicated Man and the Red Stripe from my last post?)

I managed to get in bed before 3:30 a.m., which was nice.

Saturday:

I worked at the store all day on Saturday. It was okay … I was tired from work and the party, but I like the ladies who own the store and
don’t mind helping them out from time to time. (Plus, I get discounts on jewelry and stuff.) I stayed in Saturday night.

Sunday:

Easter with the family. Yummy food. Dyed eggs. Too much sugar. Awesome basketball games. Good times.

Annoyance of the week:

Crazy drivers. Seriously, I was cut off three times in less than five minutes. And I am NOT driving that slow. Forgive me, crazy drivers, if
I do not have the presence of mind at 6:45 in the morning (before coffee) to drive 85 miles per hour on Interstate. Also, a little FYI
– you CANNOT exit the Interstate going 75 around a curve. It just isn’t a good thing to do. It’s how people end up with spinal cord
injuries and missing limbs. So, also forgive me for wanting to decelerate on the exit ramp so that I don’t die. I am so unreasonable
sometimes.

My apologies to:

The little kids who came into the store with the, um, least involved parents ever. I know you are younger than two years of age, but you
have a very slim chance of ever having a normal life if your parents let you roll around and lick the gross floor of a store and run in and
out of the door and into a busy parking lot with lots of moving cars because they’re too busy looking at cheap jewelry to pay attention to
you. I wish I could have taken you home with me.

I have been a bad, bad blogger lately. I had a three-day weekend, went
out twice and have started to have some internal issues … and yet I
haven’t posted since my last weekend update.

Bad! (I just slapped myself on the wrist with a ruler.)

I have part of this past weekend’s update written, but I didn’t get to
finish. Also, there will be much discussion of my internal struggles,
I am sure.

But not right now.

To whet your appetite a bit, I will leave you with the weekend’s
lamest attempt to pick me up:

Late in the evening (or early in the morning, depending on how you
look at it), we end up at a dive-ish bar with a lot of young kids
(seriously, they were all 12) and a very, very, very loud band. (More
loud than good, natch.)

I go to the bar and order a Miller Lite for my friend (the Birthday
Girl) and a Red Stripe for myself. (I was DD, and this was the second
beer I’d had since 7 p.m. I sure as hell was NOT having a lame
domestic, especially considering that my first beer was a yummy
Hoegarden.) Now, I like Red Stripe because it’s smooth and it errs on
the side of a slight hint of sweetness as opposed to bitterness. (Try
it. It’s the one in the cute little thick bottle.) Also, it was either
Red Stripe, Dos Equis or Negra Modelo. I am not a huge Dos Equis fan
and I wasn’t in a Negra Modelo mood. So I went with the Red Stripe. (I
explained that because it sort of relates to the bad pick up line.
Sort of.)

I turn around and hand Birthday Girl her beer. (No friend of mine is
to buy drinks of his or her birthday!) I go to cross the bar when I’m
stopped by an intoxicated man.

Intoxicated man: (mumble) never seen (mumble) chick drink Red Stripe.
S: Wait, what?
Intoxicated man: I’ve never seen a chick drink Red Stripe before.
S: Oh. Really?
Intoxicated man: Yeah, it’s cool. Chicks who drink Red Stripe are cool.
S: Yeah, um, it’s a good beer.
Intoxicated man [motioning Birthday Girl]: Your friend drinks gross beer.
S [laughs]: Sort of.
Intoxicated man: Red Stripe is smooth. Don’t you think Red Stripe is smooth?
S [walking off]: That’s why I drink it.
Intoxicated man: Um, wait …

What I thought of this:

Call me “chick” again, jerkoff.
Um, you just made fun of my good friend, the Birthday Girl.
Eeeew.

What I should have said:

Peeeeeeep!

So I’m having lunch alone, because all of my work buddies went out to
eat. (Because they don’t have meetings at 1 p.m.) It’s just me and my
Amy’s Organics and prepackaged carrot sticks. (Is it wrong that I buy
those one-serving packs of carrot sticks rather than just packing them
myself?)

I think I found a new place. I’m going to see it Friday. It’s not
exactly what I had wanted, but it’s bigger, the price is right and it
has a little yard. (Yay for grass.) It’s in a good area too. I’m
hoping it works out.

Have been out TWICE already this week. And I’m going to regular
martini-drinking tonight. I don’t know what’s come over me. I am
starting to believe that I’m not the old lady I think I am …

Monday night I went to dinner with B and bunch of his friends. They
invited me out after dinner, but it was damn near 11 p.m., and I was a
little nervous about going out, because I felt this overwhelming
niceness toward B. Also, a girl that B obviously has a crush on is
moving out of town. Monday night they were going out with her to
celebrate one of her last nights in town … I couldn’t stand to watch
him get drunk and flirt like that. (I don’t think she realizes that
he’s not happy that she’s leaving, but I could tell from the way he
said it that he was upset about it.) I know she’s had ample
opportunity to act on this crush and never has, so I wasn’t expecting
anything other than flirting.

But I just couldn’t watch it on Monday night … every now and again I
just get this nagging pang of attraction to B. Like I never got out
that last little bit of wanting him, and it’ll always just linger in
the background, and most of the time I’ll be able to ignore it.

Anyway, it’s a feeling that I haven’t had in awhile, but I felt it
Monday. I don’t know why I’m feeling this way, because he’s certainly
not giving out any vibes. I simply refuse to give in to that even a
little bit. I refuse to backslide into a heart-wrenching situation
that is only going to cause me stress, no matter how much I like the
warmth that bathes over me when I’m caught up in the middle of it and
we’re hanging out and staying up talking until all hours of the
morning. I feel so great while I’m there, but I end up near tears each
time I leave.

I think I just haven’t spent enough time with him lately. We used to
hang out all the time, but we’re both really busy lately. So I don’t
have time to get annoyed with him and wonder why the hell I ever
wanted him in the first place.

Moving on.

There’s a birthday celebration for a good friend of mine on Friday
night. It will be interesting to see which guys show up. Am planning
on looking extra fabulous just in case a certain (terribly mean,
unworthy of my time) guy comes.

‘Tis better to ignore him whilst looking beautiful, no?

Friday:

Went to a play thing with a friend from college. Saw old co-workers,
did not talk to them, as I no longer have to be nice to them. (Finding
a better job rules.) Had a glass of wine at the play and then we
grabbed dinner at a diner because we didn’t get out of the theater
until after 11 p.m. After dinner, I bailed on a party I was invited to
and crashed because work’s been doing a number on me. (I have 300
million things due between March 28 and April 5.)

Saturday:

Slept in. Was staying with younger sister since parents were out of
town. We shopped (still no black purse!), saw “Million Dollar Baby”
(Sad, but awesome) and ate sushi (But not the raw stuff, because my
sister isn’t that adventurous). Rejected a few invites out for the
evening, as I did not want to leave my sister alone until 4 a.m., and
was asleep by midnight.

Sunday:

Cleaned. Attempted to be cooking goddess by making black beans from
dry form. Will be sticking to cans in the future. Shoe shopped, but
did not buy any. Somehow spent $50 at Target without buying the one
thing I needed (New blinds because I broke the ones of my window). Now
have sheet pinned over the window. Went home and watched Law and
Order: CI, because Vincent D’Onofrio can investigate me any time he
wants. Asleep by midnight.

My apologies:

To the lady at the mall who tried to spray me with a sample of the new
Paris Hilton perfume. I did not mean to laugh that loud when you
offered. (Really, I thought I was just laughing on the inside.) I
understand that it’s your job and you’re just trying to pay your bills
like everyone else I know. Laughing was rude, but COME ON, you just
tried to make me smell like Paris Hilton! What’s that perfume called,
Eau de skank? (Also, I am allergic to perfume.) (Really, I am.)

Annoyance:

(Let me preface this with the caveat that I do not hate children. It’s
kind of a secret, as I kind of pretend to hate them, but I really
don’t. I’m the oldest of three kids and nine grandkids (and one hell
of a babysitter), so I’ve changed many a diaper and fed many a toddler
in my day. In fact, as much as I hate to admit it, I may actually want
to have children of my own one day. But if you tell anyone, I will
deny that I said it or that I even know you.) Seriously, too many
children in Target last night. I understand sometimes you have to
bring your kids with you to the store because you don’t have anyone to
watch them. I am sympathetic to this. (On rare occasions, my mother
had to take us to the store when we were young. But she gave us STRICT
instructions about the sort of behavior that would land us in our
rooms without TV for two days. She also had this awesome Look of Anger
and Disapproval, that I still, at 25 years of age, respond to.) But
when I see three adults, two high schoolers and three kids younger
than 10 all sharing one basket, clearly something is wrong. Perhaps
someone could stay home with the kids while someone else shopped, no?
This would be preferable to letting the kids tear through the store,
run into my basket, almost knock me over and then run away. ALSO, if
your kid does the aforementioned bad behavior, do NOT give me a mean
look for “being in your kid’s way.”

Ways NOT to impress a cute guy:

Accidentally pressing the emergency phone call button in the elevator
with your purse. Seriously, lights were flashing and phones were
ringing and even though I cancelled the call. I apologized profusely,
but I could hear it as I exited the elevator and walked down the hall,
taunting me, as if to say, “Cute boy’s never gonna talk to you in the
elevator again! Go write a press release, loooooser!”

Sigh.