Have you seen this?

In short, AshleyMadison.com assists married people in finding others to have affairs with. So, it's like Match.com for cheating...

While 90 percent of me is totally disgusted at the thought, the other 10 percent is intrigued at not only the business model but also with the ethics behind it.

In your opinion, should these sites be allowed to exist? I don't think it's anyone right to govern or decide what my morals should be...but I also don't like the thought of websites tailoring to such a lack of moral judgment (of course, in my opinion) - making it easy for people to cheat on their spouses.

The site's been getting quite a lot of media attention. Check some of it out here. Noticeable appearance on Ellen, the Tyra Banks Show and Good Morning America.

What are your thoughts?

Take notes! Lessons on how to be the perfect girlfriend.

How to be the perfect girlfriend... This brings the laughs and is, per my understanding, quite true... :-)


Guys, what do you think?


What makes the "perfect" girlfriend?

Did y'all hear about this??

New York Girl of My Dreams

He's all over the internet and TV. Just Google him, you'll see... :)

Also, as an aside - he's from Nashville and went to Hume Fogg....

Owner of a Lonely Heart...

Yes...
(hahaha)

Japanese men are finding it increasingly difficult to partner with a women that will please them. So...as any natural person would do, they turn not to dating sites or prostitutes...but to plastic.

Plastic sex dolls.

These dolls are life like and are anatomically correct and range in price from $800-$5,500 a piece. The more expensive models are made of silicone (more life-like and have, get this, 35 movable joints).

Please read the attached article...it makes me really sad for this one guy who goes by "Ta - Bo".

"Each has a name. Ta-Bo often watches television with his toys before bathing them, powdering them so that their skin feels more human, dressing them in lingerie and then taking them to bed.

'A human girl can cheat on you or betray you sometimes, but these dolls never do those thing. They belong to me 100 percent,' says the engineer who has spent more than 2 million yen ($16,000) over the past decade on the dolls."

Poor Ta - Bo! He has three of them lined up on his couch when he returns home...then he bathes them and powders them.

He has obviously been cheated on in the past.

Ta - Bo, not everyone cheats! I promise. You have to pick up the pieces, man. Date women. Real ones that don't come from a factory or a company. And don't advertise the number of movable parts they have.

There's a girl out there for you. Don't give up hope. Seriously, these were originally meant for handicapped men....but whatever floats your boat.

Obviously Ta - Bo wanted some girl to "belong" to him and do whatever he wanted her to. He likes the silent, submissive type. Those kinda girls might be difficult to find.

Well, I guess he found one. Scratch that...he found three of them. Until his next paycheck and he can buy more. Whoo Hoo!

My mom read my blog...

...you know, the one about decisions. Well, she had a few things to say, tried to post them but couldn't quite get the knack of posting a comment down...

Well, ladies and gentlemen, here is my mom's response to "Decisions". I have the best mom...ever (Hi, mom!).

"First and foremost, in this life, the only life we will have, I want you to be incredibly happy, self fulfilled, motivated, assured of your decisions, creative, and, believe that no matter which route you chose, as long as you are happy, that I will be completely happy. And, that will be because you have found yourself and are satisfied within yourself. After all, that is what happiness is. It's not how much money you make, but, if you are happy in doing what you do in life and with the money you make can you do the things that bring you happiness. It's a blend.

And, as to having children...that is absolutely personal. Not everyone can be a mother, or do a good job at it, or even want to be. I don't believe when I was in my teens Iwas ever even asked that question or even considered whether or not I did or did not want to be a mother...I just was. It was just there, maybe, even expected. I don't know, I just never really thought about it. However, later, I did. I wanted to be a mother...it was a choice, a decision. I know I made the right choice...because you are here. And, oh, how I love you. But, I will assuredly not be disappointed if you choose not to have children in any fashion..that is your choice. I love you just the way you are. With or without grandchildren. That is truly how I feel.

And, if you were a barrista... were happy, taught yoga , lived your dream, were safe, and I could be a part of your life that would make me complete. That is truly how I feel. I want you to feel free to be you. That is why I value education so much. It helps you to see "outside the box"; to find out what is in this huge wonderful world that I have no clue of; to teach me new and wonderful things....we are never too old to learn, to create, to change...never.

I am happy that you found role models that establish interesting concepts to be included in the person you are...just me would have never been enough. I knew from an early age that you were going to be and are gifted and that I could only go so far with what I knew. You know so much and are growing smarter every day...and, I hope to learn as much as I can from you. I do believe we will always learn from one another. Maybe in different ways. I have been many places in my lifetime...and learned a lot from just living...that you can't get from a book. And, you have been places I have not been....so, we both learn. Everyday."

Decisions

I caught up with my friend Tiffany last night and we talked about many of the issues that concern (see also - bother) us on a regular basis.

As women, we are stuck in very difficult situations. We are forced, rather encouraged, to consider so many different and conflicting influences before making decisions that concern our lives. The key word there is our lives. The decisions that I choose are mine and mine only. At least at this juncture…

Whatever we, as women, choose to do is met by scrutiny, admonishment and scorn by one side or another. If I choose to get married, I am subscribing to archaic rules and values. Wasn’t I aware that women could make it solo? Perhaps I was, but didn’t want to go it alone…perhaps I wanted someone to share it with a long the way. And if I don’t want to get married, well, then naturally I am a career-ambitious bitch who doesn’t value family or family values.

Then there is the issue of children. Do I want them? Does he? If I decide I don’t want them and he does, is that a deal breaker? I tested the waters the other night while having dinner with my mom and dad.

“I don’t think I want to have kids,” I said to my mom.

“Sure you do, sweetheart! You’ve always wanted kids!”

“Yeah, I did. But I was younger then. Maybe I’m just not cut out for them. What if I’m a bad mom? And isn’t the world already populated enough?”

“Sarah, you’ll want kids when the time comes. You’re just in a phase right now.”

Yeah…that’s it, I’m in a phase. I think what she meant was, “Sarah, you’ll want to have kids…because I want you to have kids…and I’m your mother and mother knows best…”

Perhaps.

I don’t know. It sometimes just seems that no matter what side I choose, someone winds up disappointed. And I wonder, why can’t people just back out or pitch in and just make the decisions for me.

It would be a lot easier.

Sometimes I long for a simpler time. When there was only one car, a Ford, and it only came in one color, black. A time when women got married and had children early and they were “happy”…at least on the surface.

But I think they were happy. I think, maybe they didn’t know any different…maybe they didn’t know they were unhappy. Being married and having kids was what they were supposed to do and that was supposed to make them happy. They didn’t have a choice. The grass can’t be greener on the other side if another side doesn’t exist, right?

These days women actually have to figure out what makes them happy amid swirls of dissension. Thanks, women’s lib! Thanks a lot.

And this makes me think about my job and what I do, toiling day in and day out over what really are absolute frivolities.

I work to have money because I am scared to be poor. I work five days a week so that I have money to do something on the two days that I have off. I am working to contribute to the “system” because that is what I am supposed to do…this is what is supposedly good and respectful.

So then I think, what I really want to do is finish my degree, move to Seattle, work in a coffee shop and be a yoga instructor.

But I’m told I am too educated for that now. Silly me, here I was thinking that getting a Master’s degree would open up more doors.

I don’t want to be “wealthy”, I just want to have enough money to do the things that I want to do…to afford the things I want to afford. That’s it. I want to be comfortable and happy. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, really.

I look up to my philosophy professor from Belmont. She never told us much about her personal life, so what I know about her, I have pieced together to make my ideal Dr. O.

She is in her 40’s or 50’s, never married but had, in her life, encountered and possessed many loves. She has no children and this sometimes creates a void, but she knows that if she truly wanted a child, she could have one.

She has a fantastic body, one that has not by spoiled by age and unhappiness. Life hasn’t gotten the best of her, her spirit or her body.

Which is more than I can say for people half her age.

She has fabulous salt and pepper hair and doesn’t attempt to hide it with colorings and dyes. She expects people to understand and accept her for who she is…not for the person she used to be or wish she would become.

Dr. O taught me that the important questions in life, the questions worth asking, are the ones you can’t answer. The questions that dig deep into your soul and, upon investigating, allow you to discover who you truly are.

For some reason, to me, she embodied both the conservative and the modern view of women. Somehow she was able to reconcile them both…in theory and in practice.

I think what made that possible is that she had found who she was, who she wasn’t and, in turn, was infinitely happy.

200th Post - It's a milestone!

I read this article on CNN.com while I was sitting in my cubicle eating my lunch today. Delicious Wendy's grilled chicken sandwich, a baked potato and a Diet Coke does the trick and fills the belly.

The article is about dating in the tech-savvy age. The age where you can "Google" your date, look them up on Facebook and/or MySpace and conduct online background checks.

It got me thinking...does all this information at your fingertips take away some of the fun of dating? Does it ruin the mystery that is so much a part of the process when you can learn about someone with a few mouse clicks? Would you sit across the table, nodding your head and feigning interest while the other person tells you things about him/herself...things that you already know?

I'll admit it, I have "Googled" a date.

I did something that I swore I would never do. About two years ago, I gave my number to someone I met at a bar...and then made a date to go out with him.

Just saying this makes me feel skeevy.

I'm sure this way of meeting and dating is fine for some people, and I am sure people can share with me their "happily ever after" endings of relationships started in bars...but it's just not for me. No offense intended...hopefully, none taken.

Anyway, I made a date with this dude, we went out, had a great time. We set another date. I "Googled" the fellow before the next date...and low and behold...he was married. "Was" in the past tense now...but in the oh-so-present tense then.

When I asked him about it, he came up with this long and drawn out (though major props for imagination) story. He tried to tell me that he wasn't married now but yes, he had been married to his friend who wanted to get the money out of her trust fund...and he wanted a green card (he was from Canada)...so they got hitched! Simple enough...

Whatever. Long story short, I didn't go out with him again. Google saved me from dating scum. :)


So, this begs the question...have you done it? Have you "Googled" a date?

'Soul mates' cause problems...

An interesting article in Psychology Today. Here's a (long) clip:

"We've done away with a rigid social order, adopting instead an even more onerous obligation: the mandate to find a perfect match. Anything short of this ideal prompts us to ask: Is this all there is? Am I as happy as I should be? Could there be somebody out there who's better for me? As often as not, we answer yes to that last question and fall victim to our own great expectations.

That somebody is, of course, our soul mate, the man or woman who will counter our weaknesses, amplify our strengths and provide the unflagging support and respect that is the essence of a contemporary relationship. The reality is that few marriages or partnerships consistently live up to this ideal. The result is a commitment limbo, in which we care deeply for our partner but keep one stealthy foot out the door of our hearts. In so doing, we subject the relationship to constant review: Would I be happier, smarter, a better person with someone else? It's a painful modern quandary. 'Nothing has produced more unhappiness than the concept of the soul mate,' says Atlanta psychiatrist Frank Pittman.

In fact, argue psychologists and marital advocates, there's no such thing as true compatibility. 'Marriage is a disagreement machine,' says Diane Sollee, founder of the Coalition for Marriage, Family and Couples Education. 'All couples disagree about all the same things. We have a highly romanticized notion that if we were with the right person, we wouldn't fight.' Discord springs eternal over money, kids, sex and leisure time, but psychologist John Gottman has shown that long-term, happily married couples disagree about these things just as much as couples who divorce.

'There is a mythology of 'the wrong person,'' agrees Pittman. 'All marriages are incompatible. All marriages are between people from different families, people who have a different view of things. The magic is to develop binocular vision, to see life through your partner's eyes as well as through your own.'

'So much of what we learn has to do with the self, the ego, rather than giving over the self to things like a relationship,' Kramer says. In our competitive world, we're rewarded for our individual achievements rather than for how we help others. We value independence over cooperation, and sacrifices for values like loyalty and continuity seem foolish. 'I think we get the divorce rate that we deserve as a culture.'

'Marriage is not supposed to make you happy. It is supposed to make you married,' says Pittman. 'When you are all the way in your marriage, you are free to do useful things, become a better person.' A committed relationship allows you to drop pretenses and seductions, expose your weaknesses, be yourself—and know that you will be loved, warts and all. 'A real relationship is the collision of my humanity and yours, in all its joy and limitations,' says Real. 'How partners handle that collision is what determines the quality of their relationship.'

Such a down-to-earth view of marriage is hardly romantic, but that doesn't mean it's not profound: An authentic relationship with another person, says Pittman, is 'one of the first steps toward connecting with the human condition—which is necessary if you're going to become fulfilled as a human being.' If we accept these humble terms, the quest for a soul mate might just be a noble pursuit after all."

Find a husband through your HR department....

A South Korean bank (Hana Bank) is attempting to better the lives of its employees by signing its female employees, between the ages of 29 and 33, up to a dating service.

Twenty lucky ladies will be set up on blind dates in the hopes that the potential for blooming romance will make them happier at work.

"As our bank tries to help our employees balance their work and personal lives, we are putting more effort into improving their personal life."

I'm sorry - but my dating/romantic life should not be of any concern to my company. I have my mother for that.

Disney Princess

I make it a habit to not write about personal matters here, in public domain. But I feel the need to today. I went to a movie, Music and Lyrics, with my friend Abi last night.

To know how subversive this is, you must first know that it is my general rule to not patronize so called “Chick Flicks,” and haven’t done so in years. I find that they give young (and old) girls false hopes, dreams of romantic nights (and knights), and fantastical situations that could never take place in the “real world.”

Disney is one of the leaders helping to sell this image. They are like drug dealers…only they are supplying the world with a brand new crop of old maids who live alone reading romance novels with cats. The picture is drawn of some young, beautiful girl – ripe with innocence to the world and its inhabitants. Something goes terribly wrong, the plot thickens – enter in musical score that no one remembers – and in comes the prince/beast/beggar to save the damsel.

I don’t buy it.

For so long I have been single. Searching for the one man that doesn’t need me; rather, I search for the man that wants me. There is nothing sexy about desperation. There is nothing sexy about someone who simply can’t live without you…right? See, I think this where I had it all wrong.

I don’t want someone to feel nothing when I leave the room. I don’t want someone’s heart to not skip a beat when I come back in.

I want someone who wants (and needs) to spend time with me. Someone who is not apathetic to my existence.

I think “chick flicks” have it all right. Too long I have been subscribing to the way that guys want to love. Becoming a nonromantic (not saying that all guys are nonromantic…Lord knows this isn’t true). But I have come to find out that it’s just not me. I am a romantic.

I want you to live and breathe me. I want you to need me around…not all the time…let’s take this one step at a time, okay? Baby steps. Baby steps.

I want someone who is not afraid to make fun of himself. I can go ahead and tell you that you’re not perfect. And I can go ahead and burst your bubble that I won’t be either. I’m so far from that. I am not a Disney Princess with perfectly coiffed hair and a melodic voice. Okay, that’s a lie…I do have those things…but I don’t have a size 20 waist…and I don’t have a tail either…but hopefully you view that as a plus…

I laugh inappropriately, especially when I am nervous.
I detest public speaking with a vengeance.
Sometimes I snort when I laugh…but it’s quite rare.
I laugh constantly at my own jokes…and often, I am the only one laughing.
I have weird dietary concerns.
I am allergic to detergent.
I’m bad about calling people back.
I’m bad about calling people in general.
I don’t often say what I am really feeling.
I like designer things…and am somewhat materialistic.
I smell everything. All the time.
I’m loyal to a fault.
I always put on a happy face…no matter what.

I want you to show me the world…shining, shimmering, splendid. (Aladdin reference, anyone? Anyone?)

I want you to giddily explain to your friends that you’ve met the girl of your dreams and not care when they make fun of you…because you know deep down…they’re all just jealous.

But most of all, I want you to try. Try to win my affection. Don’t assume you have it. And don’t be settled on the fact that just because you do, it can’t be taken away.

I want you to make me laugh and make me cry. It’s okay. Without these emotions we really cease to truly exist.

I want you to hear a song on the radio and think to yourself how perfectly those lyrics pen the words that describe the way you feel at that exact moment.

I want you to dream about me at night. I want you to be afraid to say those three important words, but you do anyway.

I want you to not mind driving to where I live, because you know it will be worth it when you get here. I want you to come and see me when I am sick/depressed/stressed…and bring something over to make me smile.

I want you to reach for my hand and hold it tight. Hold it like you don’t want to let it go.

I want you to respect my need for space. I’m an only child…I had lots and lots of space…and time by myself growing up.

Forget apathy. Forget repressed emotions. Forget the should haves and the wanted tos.

Sweep me off my feet – I won’t settle for anything less…

So, ladies and gentlemen…here’s to passion. Here’s to mad love. Here’s to not giving up until you find it.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Or, if you want...National All Singles Awareness Day! Either one works fine for me, whatever floats your boat.

What are your plans for Valentine's? Sharing it with a loved one? Sharing it with a "complicated" one? How about with your cat/dog/ferret?

Whomever or whatever you are sharing this day with...just know...that I am sharing mine...with my computer and my Public Finance course. I have a huge exam due by 4:00 tomorrow and late admissions are not accepted. So, that leaves me with Mr. Darcy and my computer. Thank-you Dr. Bradley.

My office had a Valentine's luncheon today and I made chocolate covered strawberries. For a first attempt...I must say that they were pretty good. Next time I am going to try really decorating them...you know, with white chocolate and such. But really, nothing beats the regular kind. Chocolaty and fruity. Angel and Devil.

Okay, unfortunately, this break has been as much as I can take. I have to get back to my exam. Again, happy V-Day everyone. I hope it has been a great day/night for you all! :)

Marriage, Education and the Happiness Correlation

Why are there so many single Americans?? This article delves deeper into that question.

If you don't have time to read the whole article, here are some major take aways:

*51 percent of all women live without a spouse. Half of all men are in the same situation.
*The career girls aren't on the losing end; rather, it is their less educated manicurists or housekeepers, women who might arguably be less able to live on their own.
*College educated women are more likely to marry than non-college educated women — although they marry, on average, two years later.
*Women with more education are less likely to divorce than those with less education. They are even less likely to be widowed all in all, less likely to end up alone.
*Commitment-averse men in their 20’s and 30’s look the same with or without a college degree. They fit depressingly well into the old stereotypes: they fear marriage means a loss of liberty; they worry a wife will want to change them. They don’t trust women to tell the truth about past relationships, or they are waiting for the soul mate who hasn’t appeared. With the rising frequency of cohabitation, they can get sex without marriage, so what’s the rush? With no biological or sociological clock ticking, “boys can remain boys indefinitely.”
*While marriage used to be something you did before launching a life or career, now it is seen as something you do after you’re financially stable.
*Women are saying, "I’m not ready, I want to work for a while, the guys I hang around with don’t make enough money and they don’t want a commitment.”
*People who are high school dropouts probably have a higher propensity to drop out of marriage.
*Three decades ago, about 30 percent of women who had graduated from college said it should be harder to get a divorce - now, about 65 percent say so. For less educated women and for men, the numbers have not changed; only 40 percent say it should be harder to get a divorce.
*The percentage of spouses who rate their marriage as “very happy” has dropped among those without a college education, while it has risen or held steady among those better educated.

New Year - New Love Languages...

Nope! A little different, but for the most part, it's the same thing...only this time around, it's more pronounced!

Score Love Language
2 Acts of Service
3 Quality Time
7 Receiving of Gifts
7 Words of Affirmation
11 Physical Touch

How to interpret your Profile Score: Your highest score indicates your primary love language. Your second highest score indicates your secondary love language. If two scores are identical, you are bilingual (you have two primary love languages). If the scores of your primary and your secondary language are close (for example, 10 & 9 respectfully), it indicates both are important to you. Whatever a significant other does to express love in either of these languages will get emotional points with you. The highest possible score for any language is 12. Having a clear picture of your primary & secondary love languages will explain much of your past behavior Think back over the past and ask yourself "What have I most often requested from significant others?" Chances are your answer will lie within the scope of your primary and secondary love languages. You have been requesting that which would meet your deepest need for emotional love.

Find yours here.

Update:
I'm looking at this in the light of day and I realize that my scores, while accurate, may not be the best reflection of me in a relationship. I do enjoy spending quality time with a significant other. I do! I don't know why that ranked so low... I think my scores should rank more like this:

Score Love Language
2 Acts of Service
3 Receiving of Gifts
7 Words of Affirmation
7 Quality Time
11 Physical Touch

...Just Because

I realize that I’m getting older and I’m okay with that. I just don’t get bent out of shape about stuff like that. Because really, life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but rather by the moments that take your, right?

Well, I’ve got a new appreciation for the older ladies and gents in my life now. The ones who take off a few years when someone asks their age. The ones who see a fellow mid-lifer and inquire softly, under their breath to me, “Do I look younger than her?”

I appreciate these people now…I appreciate and understand because I have watched the Bachelor. I remember when this show first came on TV so many years ago and I thought the ladies were so much older…and so much wiser and cooler. And now, staring at myself from the other side of the glass, I think… “I’m older than these ladies (though not by much)…and I’m certainly not cooler…wiser, yes…yes, I will give myself that.”

These ladies are my age if not younger and they are vying for this prince’s affections for him to fall in love with and marry them. Ladies, doesn’t this seem a little belittling? Demeaning? Behind the times, even? I certainly think it does.

But I’m not going to lie to you. I have watched and been entertained by two, maybe three episodes. What’s really entertaining though, is seeing the commercials and then the show…because they are always totally different.

Anyway, sorry. Back to what I was writing about.

I had a semi-out-of-body experience the other morning. I was driving to work. Listening to talk radio. Drinking a coffee with one hand and driving with the other. I had on my “big girl” clothes – a black pencil skirt, button down shirt and my fancy designer, favorite stilettos. It was then that I saw myself as I used to see people like me when I was 12 or 16 or 21…

She’s old.

I do old things. I’m older. I own my home, I own my car, I have a cat that is well nourished and plants that thrive. I work full-time, M-F, 8-5 and only miss work when I absolutely have to. I worry about retirement and savings and the future. And I am in grad school…which more often times than not makes me feel older too.

And I date. And when you date at this age, people feel better if they think you are serious about the person whom you are dating. For some reason, they need to know that you see a future…because otherwise…they think you are wasting your time. Or that your eggs are going to go bad. Or that I’m “not getting any younger.”

But then I think… “Slow down there! I’m only 24.” I mean, I know time flies at this age…but I just need a brake. I need a brake from the pressures of going older. I need to be young again. To take playtime seriously. To feel the cold, wet grass underneath my feet. To take the time to smell the sweet air of morning…because that is my favorite time of day. To wake up early and go to bed late…just because. To not worry about working out and staying fit. And eating right. And doing the most mature thing.

I want to throw a temper tantrum. Laugh until I physically can’t laugh anymore because my sides are streaming out in pain. I want to sneak into movies in the middle of the afternoon

And most of all I want to remember everyday how fast time goes…and that I am not guaranteed one more minute. And to act like a kid every once in a while…just because.

Online Dating Profile

I just wasted a good portion of my night looking at online profiles on Match.com. No, I am not a member, but I did create a fake membership to check all the people out. Surprisingly, I knew a lot of people on there! I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised…I don’t know, I just am.

So, in the spirit of the night I am going to write my own personal ad.

About Me:

Native Alabaman, current Tennessean. I love my friends and I love my family. I like the beach and the mountains. I graduated from high school and from college. My hair is brown and so are my eyes. I’m short and I have small hands and feet. I seem to able to balance just fine, considering this fact, though I would not consider myself graceful. I like to drink water and I limit my carbonated beverages. I like chicken and I like music. Generally, this is not a normal pairing…but I am reminded of the funky chicken as you should be. I don’t sleep enough, but when I do, I most always dream. I don’t always remember them though…but I’m sure they are good. I have a cat. He’s pretty cool. Please don’t call him a her just because he’s a cat and cats seem female to you. He is every bit as masculine as you. I like dating. Dating. When did dating stop, might I ask? When did it become appropriate to get together and rent a movie on a Saturday night? We are both not heinous – let’s go out and be seen together. Unless of course you have a girlfriend…or wife…

Seriously, I have gotten onto another subject and I am feeling the need to go on and on.

Dating – When did it become okay to just hang out? Why are there no more DTR (Defining the Relationship) talks? I just don’t get it. Where are the boys that want to date and court me? I don’t want to hang out with you! I want to date you. And guys, don’t say that you don’t have any money to date. That’s a whole load of crap. You do…you just blew it last weekend at the bar. And at the game. And on that new video game, or whatever it is that you boys play these days. Seriously, you have a job…does it pay you money? I sure as heck hope so, cause otherwise you are in more trouble that I thought. And on that note. Let’s say you are poor and you do work for free. There are tons of cool things to do that don’t cost much (if any) money. Some of the best, most creative dates I have been on weren’t “wine and dine me” dates. If a girl truly likes you boys, it doesn’t matter what you spend, what matters is that you have a good time together and get to know one another.

But I am an able-bodied young woman. I want to go out. I want to go hiking (last I checked, nature was free). I want to go to the park (again, free) and cook-out (seriously, if you can’t buy food, again…problems). I want to go and get coffee (depending on where you go…about $3 or less/person) with you and talk about what makes you who you are…and of course myself because doesn’t every girl like to talk about herself…at least that’s what I hear we girls are supposed to like. I want to get up a group of people and play board games (I have a ton…in the magic words…free for you). For God’s sake though boys, unless I am sick and want to stay at home and you are being sweet and coming over to take care of me…please, can we go out? I’m sitting on my couch right now…I can and will do this with or without you. And honestly, I prefer without. Well, that’s a little harsh…It’s just that, well, we barely know each other…It’s all happening so fast with us.

Oh and please call and ask me before hand. Please call and make plans…in advance. Not the day before…even though that has become acceptable in the recent years. But certainly not the night of. Oh my gosh, and don’t even think about texting me and asking me where I am when you haven’t asked me out. I will not meet you out and do not interrupt my night with the people that I am out with. I made plans without you...now leave me alone. Now, this is assuming that you and I don’t already have a relationship. Once the relationship has been built, the foundations laid, this is perfectly acceptable behavior. You have a life. I have a life. Everything will be fine as long as we both understand this.

Seriously, ladies. Let’s start a revolution. No advance plans, no dates. Period.

Should be studying but...

This was too good to pass up...

I took this quiz on Emode.com - it's probably one of the best timewasters on the net. Sometimes it scarily accurate...sometimes it's laughably inaccurate. This time...well, friends, you tell me... :)

I will have to say, the end...hilarious! ADD? Who knew?

Sarah, you're single because you don't want to compromise

You live alone and like it, thanksverymuch. Well, at least some of the time. You prefer coming and going as you please, and you don't like to be controlled or held responsible for someone else's schedule or needs. After all, you probably have plenty of friends, a satisfying career (or other projects to occupy your time), and you may simply not have room for another person right now — unless of course they can bend to meet your routine exactly. Does this sound familiar?

While we admire your go-it-alone attitude — and your carefree, open-minded spirit — you may be shutting out others from your life without realizing it. You never know, maybe if you met the right person you could learn to grow together — while holding onto your hard-earned independence.

You may have Adult Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD), a condition your doctor can help treat. Take a brief screener to find out if you may have the symptoms.

Buckets O' Beer in Pictures

Abi, I promised I would post pictures from our Girl's night. To all others, if you've been keeping up with my blog...which I highly doubt, this is the night from the post Buckets O' Beer.

Amy, this is what you missed!

The night begins. Abi, I think these were from the crazy guys...

Andy took this one, I believe. Do we know the guy in the blue?

Not the best picture we've ever taken...

And we tried again...Is my chin really that pointy?

Amy, do you recognize the guy with the mic? Yeah, you know who that is...

Amy, he's coming for you! It almost looks like he's coming in at a jog...or that he just dismounted a horse...either way...it's all positives from my vantage! :)

Abi, this one is yours! Looking back on it, he was attractive. Humm.


Abi, you need to send me pictures from this past weekend. Since my camera was dead, you have them all. There were some good ones in there from what I recall. Hum, that rhymed.

Sexcapades and More....

So, I bought this condo back in April of last year and when it was finally complete in October, I moved in. I was told that my surrounding homeowners were about my age…many of them single. Well, in a building with 12 condos, me and the crazy Russian guy next door are the only single people. You're probably wondering why he is crazy and I really have no good explanation for you that can be summed up quickly.

However…

There was the one night when I was getting ready to go out with a friend of mine and had partaken of a glass of wine before he came over. Anyway, the doorbell rang and I thought that it was my friend; even when I looked out the peephole, I thought it was my friend. So, I open the door, glass of wine in tow and quickly discovered that it was not my friend, but my next door neighbor who apparently lacks one of his front teeth. He proceeds to say all of this in a thick Russian accent, "Hallo, I em fram Russia and ma name es Vladimir. I leave next dor. I do nat know iv you er single er iv you hav boyfriend bat I vas vondering iv you vould like to came over for vings and dags." (I assume that "vings" and "dags" means "wings" and "dogs" or chicken wings and hot dogs – one can only imagine)

I politely declined. Sorry Vladimir! All that just to relay to you that we are the only two single people in the building and that Vladimir is a crazy Russian.

Back to the story at hand.

So, the people that live below me are apparently very happily married as I hear them having sex all the time. This sex is not your "regular" sex, I might add…not that I would know what "regular" sex would consist of…but this just cannot be it. The guy that lives downstairs gives his woman such intense pleasure, I am tempted to go down there myself to inquire as to the specifics of what exactly he is doing to her. They do these things at all hours of the night, mainly in the bedroom…

…until last night…

…which is why I am getting the slightest bit fed up. There I was taking my nightly bubble bath, which I so enjoy – I had the water extra hot, the bubbles extra bubbly – when I heard giggling from below.

Humm…that just sounds funny.

Let me clarify, I heard the giggling from downstairs. Then, as it usually does, it progressed into full-on crazy monkey sex in the bathroom directly below me...WHILE I was in my bathtub! But this time, because of the exhaust fan, I was able to hear with crystal clear quality, what exactly she has been saying – no, screaming – all of these times.

Don't get your hopes up. I'm not going to write it here, nor will I tell you. Seriously, I'm not going to tell you. It would just be too awkward for everyone involved.

So – this leads me to my question. What do I do to make my neighbors cognizant about their loud sexual habits? I am overjoyed that they are satisfied with each other and their sex life, and I hope one day to share that with someone, but do I have to be brought into it right now and through no enjoyment of my own? I feel like a voyeur in my own home – only, luckily, I can't see them!

I was asked today over lunch with Duchess and BB Logan what I do when the sexcapades start. "Do I put a pillow over my head, put in ear plugs?" "No," I replied, "I listen and that might bother me most of all!" I mean, come on! Being abstinent is one thing…but having sex shoved into my bedroom at 3:00 AM (YES – it wakes me up in the middle of the night) or in my bathroom at 10:30 PM is like taking a kid into a candy store and then telling her she can can only have broccoli - it's nutritious and delicious!

I need your advice!

Suggestions? Questions? Comments? Concerns?

Realizations

Have you ever gotten back from something, let’s say a date – you think you look fantastic. I mean, you did a mere four hours ago. Before the dinner and the drinks…you looked, dare I say, attractive!

It’s upon your arrival home, after the kisses goodnight and the fake goodbye’s that lead to more kisses goodnight, when you saunter your hot self to the hall mirror and realize…Oh God! I look like I’ve been dancing in the rain…and not hot dancing in the rain mind you. My eye makeup is everywhere…my cheeks are flushed pink…damn my frizzy hair and damn the humidity! Crap. I wouldn’t go out with me. And he’s gone now so there is no redeeming oneself.

I hope what “they” say is true. Confidence is everything. Because if it is, ladies and gentlemen, I had boat loads of it before staring myself down in the mirror.

Perhaps it is like that Seinfeld episode about the girl that Jerry dates that only looks good in certain lights so he takes her to the same restaurant all the time. Perhaps I am that girl. Let’s hope that one of the lights that I look good in includes the hall light in the breezeway outside my condo.

For the love of everything that is good and holy in this world, say this is so.

Buckets O' Beer

Buckets O’ Beer

Talking on the phone to my friend, Abi:

-So, I am going to knock on your door and you’re going to answer it. I am going to judge by your reaction if my outfit looks stupid or not. I’ll take a change of clothes…if you think I look stupid – I’m changing.

-Well, don’t take offense when I laugh! Now I am going to laugh…but it won’t be because your outfit looks stupid…well, at least not initially. It’s just that now I am expecting this…and now it’s just funny.

-Okay, promise me you’ll tell me honestly if I look stupid. I don’t want to look stupid!

-I promise. I promise! Remember, though, I am going to laugh.

-It’s noted. Thanks.

I get to Abi’s (without that change of clothes), she answers the door…and doesn’t laugh. She’s training her dog, Lina, to not jump on people. She won’t even look at me. Oh GOD! She hates my outfit so much so she can’t even look at me! When she finally does, she nods her head in approval and says:

-It’s cute…why are you always so much more dressed up than me?

-I’m not! You’re wearing those cute Rock in Republic jeans I love…and you know how they make your ass look…not to mention that sparkly top you’re wearing is totally cute. I just happen to have on a dress…but we all know that denim is the new wear with all.

We head out to SatCo (San Antonio Taco Company). If you are not from Nashville, or are from Nashville but have never been to SatCo, let me give you a glimpse into what this place is like. It get’s bad ratings all the time – not customer service bad ratings (though this is nothing stellar), not bad reviews from the locals (I’m telling you, it’s a favorite), it gets bad sanitary reviews. But it is so good…it’s worth the potential gastric distress that will happen the next day. And trust me…it is not so much of a “potential” as it is a “promise.”

Two tacos each, cheese dip (sooo good), and a bucket of beer. I can hear my diet blowing past me…but you know what? I ran. Like three miles. I deserve this. Okay, so I would have had to run like 80 miles to even remotely cover what I ate last night…but everyone needs a night off.

We’re sitting there…talking about life, work, friends and guys for probably two hours. Just relaxing, drinking some beer and consuming massive amounts of saturated fat. Our bucket has diminished quite significantly and we are working on our last beer each. This worker comes over. While holding out a bucket of beer he says:

-I was told to deliver this to you ladies.

Our faces must have read so many things; humor, confusion, embarrassment…

-Who sent it over?

-I was told not to say.

-Umm okay, well thanks then.

Abi and I look at each other and laugh…how bizarre. We look around for someone to make his way over but no one comes. We look for any sign from anyone that would say… “Hey! I sent those beers over to you!” But we could find no facial expression that would signify such thoughts. I feel weird opening the first beer, not because I thought it was contaminated or poisoned with the date rape drug…but because it was just awkward…no one had come over yet to claim his good deed.

And no one did come over.

Finally, Abi in utter defiance says:

-Oh what the Hell.

Grabs the bottle opener and cracks open a cold one. The table behind her starts to snicker. There are four guys there are two girls. I figure they were the ones that bought the bucket or they heard the guy come over and present it to us and just thought the situation was funny. I leaned more towards them having purchased, though it was weird since they were in mixed company.

Let’s just be honest, the whole situation was weird.

So, Abi and I start drinking our free beer and the table gets up to leave. One of the guys walks past our table, brushing up against me (when there was plenty of room) and says:

-Enjoy your beer ladies.

Just like that. Very nonchalant.

Then this other guy walks up to me from the side, gets down into my ear and whispers:

-You’re everything that I’ve dreamed of. You’re perfect. (Loosely translated…can’t remember the exact wording)

Then they left. Without another word, they were gone. That was it. They spent $11 on a bucket of beer for two ladies that they couldn’t even get the guts to say “Hi” to. What idiots. Good luck in the future guys. You’ll really go far with that plan of action…or rather…no action.

Abi and I put the remaining four into my purse and headed for the Stage.

PS – I feel gross that I had six beers. GROSS.