Friday, July 31, 2009

Little quirks

I'll listen to the same song over and over and over again until I know every single word to it.

I don't like my foods to touch each other.

I only eat one food at a time and turn my plate in a circle as I go from one food to the next.

I only like eating the broken tortilla chips.

I bite my nails.

I'm rigid with my morning routine and it never varies.

I like Taylor Swift (judge me, I deserve it).

I put off everything except homework. I always get that done as far in advance as possible.

I don't deal well the stress of fixing someone else's mistakes, or my own for that matter.

I'm adept at dealing with unexpected stress.

I'd rather stab myself repeatedly in the hand with a sharpened spork than cry in front of someone.

I love going to the car wash and wish I could afford to wash my car every week.

I hate my eyes.

I have an awesome corporate "phone voice."

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Free Food

There are few perks in being a corporate drone. These are: steady paycheck, health benefits, the occasional free meal.

Today I have gotten lots of free food: tomatoes, peaches, a watermelon, and a free lunch.

Some days are kind of completely amazing. The peaches are genuine Calhoun peaches, the most delicious things ever. The tomatoes and watermelon are home grown from a co-worker.

We also got our shirts in today for all of the events we will be doing over the next month or so. They look amazing and I'll be taking one home with me tonight to wear this weekend.

I heart free stuff.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Ouch *%$#$@* ! *&$%@#$!%(*

I'm accident prone. I fall ALL the time, seriously, at least once a week. I'll slip on the bathroom or kitchen floor, trip over the dog, cat, coffee table, rogue shoe, wear slick soled shoes in my garage, the parking deck, walking the dog. Sometimes I don't even have an excuse, I just collapse in a heap.

I also bruise easily and consistently, I currently have 13 bruises. I only know where about 6 of them came from.

I get scratched a lot too. Between the cats, random nails in my wall, paper cuts, and knife wounds its a wonder I haven't bled to death.

My favorite curse during 95.5% of these injuries: mothertrucker. I usually string as many curse words together as my brain can think of and come up with some very surprising and innovative word choices. I then try to use them in day to day life.

Look at me, taking lemons and turning them into f#$%ing lemonade!

Friday, July 24, 2009

Jealousy

Is a funny thing, especially for me. I've never really been a jealous person, of course there have been times when I've wanted what someone else had, but I wasn't ever jealous of the person for what they had. If I wanted it badly enough I'd find a way to get one of my own.

That's how it's always been.

What brings this up now are the people that Facebook and Myspace recommend to me as "friends," people that I've neither seen nor thought about since I graduated high school 6 years ago (has it really been 6 years, fuck I'm old). I see their shining faces looking out from their little picture windows and am always surprised by how much you can tell from a profile picture and a status update. If people are married, have children, have pets, if they party, stay at home, work, slack, etc.

It's fascinating to flip through their lives with the same carelessness and detached interest that you exhibit reading a magazine in a doctors waiting room. I tend to learn more about myself than them.

I've recently learned that although I don't get jealous or bitter when I see schoolmates with things that I don't have, I do get the occasional snark twinge. I don't know what it is about the high school years that always brings out my bitchfactor, but it's there. Even when I know that the self-satisfied, content feeling that comes with seeing into the lives of others is only temporary and most probably incorrectly placed.

I wish I could give the feeling a better name. It's a mix between smugness and contentment, it crosses the line occasionally into a holier-than-thou attitude and usually straddles the well-wishing line.

Is there a word for that feeling you get when you see someone else with all the good things you thought you wanted and all you can think is: I still wouldn't trade?

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Bachelorette Adventures Pt. 3

The final installment.

So we get back from the work out, eat some pizza, the bride-to-be opens her severely risque gifts, we drink some more and decide to go to a bar.

We start looking for a bar that is near the club we're going to later. We park and start walking down the street. At this point a scary old man comes out of a smoke filled bar and starts following us shouting, "You're whores, you're whores." At first we though he was saying, "You're home, you're home." But after he followed us into the bar still yelling "whores" at us we figured it out. He continued to hang around as we did shots, picked out music on the jukebox and generally ignored him.

At one point he cornered the bride-to-be and started talking to her about romantic songs and how soon she was getting married. I went over and not so subtly turned my back on him, cutting off his view of her and the conversation.

We hung out there for a while, played some pool, took some dares which involved me doing a short version of our lap dance in the middle of the bar, my sister asking for a random guys number, the future SIL asking a guy for change for the condom machine and another guys sock. We also danced around to a Hairspray song. I'm sure the regulars at the bar just loved us. *insert eyeroll here*

From there we went to the club, most of the party got lost on the way there so SIL and I headed in and hung out until they showed up. It was another hour until the guys joined us and we all proceeded to drink, dance, sing along, and have a generally awesome time.

Towards the end of the night the DJ put on Birthday Sex and SIL and the bride-to-be did a lap dance for some random guy and the groom. I took lots of pictures and was very grateful that CG was around as a convenient excuse for me to not shake my ass and hump a chair in front of about 200 people.

My youngest sister, a fresh faced 18 year old came very close to accidentally dirty dancing with a drunk 40 year old. How can you accidentally dirty dance you ask? I'll tell you how, some creepy as hell, drunk ass comes up behind you gyrating and taking his shirt off. I have to admit here that I was more than a little tipsy. I got up of the bar stool crossed the dance floor gave the creep my most hateful look and drug my sister up to the front and away from Creepy McPedophile.

We left soon after. It was totally awesome and on the way home there was much slurred singing and chest thrusting.

Sometimes (most times) being female is the greatest thing ever.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Bachelorette Adventures Pt. 2

So we get down to business and strippercise our little black hearts out. It's completely hilarious and a lot less uncomfortable and weird than you'd think. I mean it's cousins, aunts, mothers, in there together, giving lap dances to empty chairs and hanging from poles.

Our first 45 minutes was the lap dance. We did it to this song:



(Birthday Sex by Jeremiah)

If you listen to the song you can totally tell where the butt shaking/boob gyrating/humping sections happen. I was actually grateful to be in the front row because that meant that I didn't have to watch everyone else. Every time I picture my mother vibrating on top of a chair to "it's your birthday and I know you want to riiii-iii-iii-ide" I get a little queasy.

Then came the pole dancing lessons. Most everyone failed epically at this, which made me feel much better about not being able to hold onto the pole for more than a few seconds. It became glaringly obvious to me that I would never be a professional pole dancer. Those girls have some serious upper body strength and I salute them for their dedication to sexiness.

We all took away some valuable dance skills that we used for the rest of the night. There's the chest push-hand cover, the floor hump, the crazy leg (not to be confused with the stanky leg, which is apparently also a dance move), and of course the body roll.

On the trip home the bride-to-be decided that we should all do the lap dance at the club we were going to later. All of the younger girls were really excited about it.

I was less than thrilled.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Bachelorette Adventures

So I had a complete and total blast this past weekend. I can't remember a weekend that's been so amazing.

It started with the boys getting ready for their paintball extravaganza. They were all completely dorky and adorable. CG even wore a do-rag. AH-MAY-ZING. My father was dressed from the top of his head to the soles of his shoes in camo, the groom was wearing shorts, fuzzy wool socks pulled up to his knees and tennis shoes, my cousins looked normal, and my uncle was wearing a bright orange camo floppy hat. They looked fabulous. They apparently had a fabulous time with lots of shooting, falling, John Wayne moments, and bluff calling. Most of them ended up with some serious bruising.

Us girls went to my aunts house to start our adventure. Before we got there I tied one on for the road. If I'm going to drink I do the damn thing right. We get to my Aunts and start drinking some more, listen to music and plan for the epic-ness that will be strippercise.

We load up and head out. I'm already a teeny bit tipsy. We're all in high heels and sweat pants walking through downtown. We run across a quickly changing crosswalk. One of my hooker heels gets caught in between the bricks in the crosswalk. I start to fall, I continue to fall as I take 4 more steps. I face plant in the middle of the crosswalk, downtown, at 2 in the afternoon. It's amazing and was apparently very graceful.

We finally get to the center and head inside. It's then that I realize I'm bleeding on both knees. It hurts, like a lot, and I'll be spending the next hour or so on them. I'm very grateful for the pre-sexay dance drinks and brace myself for what's to come.

To Be Continued

Friday, July 17, 2009

Busy is just an excuse.

But seriously, I have been crazy busy at work and at home. Hopefully next week I'll have some good stories about it all.

This weekend I'll be going to my cousin's bachelorette party. We're going to strippercise. All of the females in my family. Sexy Dancing. Awesome.


While I was typing this the CEO of our company came in, looked me in the eye, took my Rubix cube off my desk, and walked away. WTH?!?


Seriously people I can't make this shit up.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Real World Dating: Uncle Randy

There is really nothing bad that I have to say about Randy. He was quirky and fun, we could talk for hours on any subject, had the same taste in movies, games, books, and hobbies.

I met "Uncle" Randy on a dating website (I told you I used it more than once). Everyone called him Uncle Randy because of how he looked. You know that uncle that never quite seemed to grow up? Who was built like a grizzly bear? Who wore his hair long, grew a full beard - who you were sometimes embarrassed to introduce to your significant other? Who also had a heart so big that he'd cry at a good film. Who would punch through a man's face for you but hold a kitten so tenderly that you couldn't believe it was the same guy?

Maybe people only have uncles like this where I live.

Anyway, that was Randy. He was wonderful, on our second date he gave me a limited edition World of Warcraft playing card designed by Gabe from Penny Arcade (that's all geek speak so just play along). He remembered my birthday after only a month of casually seeing each other and brought me a card and flowers.

He was/is a great guy but I couldn't manage to muster up more than a mild interest in him. He really was everything that I should have been looking for and I was lucky to be dating him.

But as happens in life things don't always work out the way they should and when my current guy (CG for the sake of brevity) asked me to go steady (yes I said go steady, don't judge me!) I ended it with Randy.


If you're doing the time line you'll realize that I was dating Randy, Carl, and CG at about the same time. Well I was, and I'm not even a little ashamed. If I hadn't dated all of them I would never have these fabulous memories and embarrassing moments.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Real World Dating: Mortgage Miles

Miles lives one town away from me. I met him while driving through said town and randomly stopping at the grocery store. Miles asked me to help him choose a ripe melon. I told him that I knew nothing about melons and that it was an affront to my feminist nature that he would assume that I would. He laughed. It was a good sign that he got my sense of humor. He was also cute with a thick neck and a square chin. Yum.

I gave Miles my number and my email. We chatted for a while through email and really hit it off. He talked about his family and his job. He was really into the environment and worked with the State Environmental Agency to upkeep our local Prairieland grasses. He was also a volunteer firefighter. Me and men in uniform, it's a weakness.

We decided to go out a few weeks later and met up at my local country club. It wasn't nearly as fun as I figured it would be. He kept talking to me about mortgage rates and homeownership.

Now I'm as interested in all of that as your average first-time homeowner, but I sat through 3 hours of this kind of talk. Every time I tried to change the subject he brought it back up. We missed our movie because of it. I started ordering alcohol.

Even while slightly buzzed he was boring. It was absolutely tragic. He drove me home and we kissed. It was also boring. Double tragedy.

I hoped that he was just nervous and that maybe on our second date things would be better. Luckily for me a week later I met my current guy.

Miles left me with fond memories and a broader knowledge of real estate. Thank you Miles.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Things I Do in my Review Mirror

1. Make pouty faces

2. Pick my teeth

3. Pretend I'm in a music video.

4. Check my pimples.

5. Watch the people in the car behind me.

6. Apply lip gloss

7. Take pictures of myself

8. Fix my hair.

9. Pretend that there are people in my back seat.

10. Talk to the people in my back seat.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Real World Dating - You're Not Really Scottish Carl

Next on the list is Scottish Carl. I met Carl on a dating site: my first mistake. Although I can't say too much about it because I've made that mistake a few times since.

Carl seemed like the perfect guy for me, a total nerd, working on his degree in Special Education. He was a volunteer firefighter, worked full-time to put himself through school and enjoyed a lot of the same hobbies that I did.

Carl wasn't cute, he wasn't really even good-looking, but he was nice and he seemed safe and that was good enough for me. We talked for a long time before we ever met. Our first date was to see the movie Beowulf. It was a decent date, no sparks and occasionally awkward, but you can't have everything right? I decided that it was definitely worth a second date.

He calls me the next day to ask me to dinner. He talks the entire time using a terrible Scottish accent and he gives this reasoning:

"My family is very Scottish, I do a wonderful accent don't I? You can't tell I'm not from Scotland. I can do a lot of accents really well, I'll do a different one each time I call you, okay? One thing you should know about us Scotsmen: we'll never lie. I'm very honest and open. I love you."

After I finally got him off the phone I sat down with my checkbook and wrote him a check for $8.50; the price of my movie admission ticket. I mailed it to him the next day.

I really don't want to owe anyone that delusional anything.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Real World Dating - Jorge

I suppose I shouldn't call Jorge a date, as I never actually went on one with him. However, he did constantly ask me out, eat with me whenever possible and gave me oddly phrased compliments.

After I graduated from college I went to work selling useless crap door to door. After two weeks I quit in disgust. I started working at a super fancy hotel as the night bell(wo)man. It was pretty quiet most nights and I spent them making up couch beds for drunken heiresses who came to party, shining shoes, picking up breakfast orders, shining our brass baggage carts and helping the night clerk look for motorcycle parts on Craigslist.

I also spent a lot of time chatting with the Mexican cleaning staff. We took turns helping each other with Spanish/English. One of them - Jorge was a super sweet 40 year old who was always eager to help. At first I thought he was being nice, but after he told me, "You're pretty for a chubby girl. You should already have a man and not have to work here, but stay home and have babies." I knew it was a bit more than that.

Jorge would always sit with me during "lunch" at 1 in the morning and chat about his work visa and how I was "too pretty to work." Me being all of 22 and fresh out of college I was not crazy about the idea of marrying a middle-aged man so he could get a green card. No matter how many times he asked me out or talked about our babies.

I started eating lunch in the bellhop closet. It smelled like shoe-polish and cleaning supplies, but I could listen to the Cardinal's games in peace.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Gary Allen - Not the Singer

My next traumatizing collegiate dating experience was with Gary Allen. Gary was hot, I'm talking red hot. So hot that he turned me into a gibbering pile of goo with one look.

I met Gary while I was doing a bake sale for my honor society. Gary was at the next table in full army dress and was busy handing out pamphlets, trying to get college kids to sign their lives away, and being hot - mainly being hot. He was there with a Marine and an Air Force recruiter. I was there with fellow honor society member Anika.

Anika is/was completely beautiful. Gary kept staring at our table. I kept avoiding eye contact and figured he was interested in Anika. I'm cute in a dorky, girl-next-door kind of way, but in no reality was I on Gary's level. Gary comes over to talk to us. We talk for a good 10 minutes.

Apparently we were flirting, I thought I was just being friendly, but I get those two things mixed up a lot.

He walks away to talk to his armed forces buddies. Anika tells me that he's totally in love with me and I need to have his babies. I agree.

He comes back over and talks for another 20 minutes or so and asks for my number. I'm shocked. We go out a few times, but more often than not we hang out in the bedroom of the townhouse I share with 3 other girls.

He always comes straight over after work, always dressed in fatigues and always undeniably good-looking. I begin to notice not so little things though. Like he makes severely inappropriate and sexist comments about women constantly. I was a Woman's Studies minor at the time so that's always a bad move. I let it slide because he's cute.

I notice the imprint of a ring on his left hand. I ignore it because he's cute. One night he comes over with the ring on. I ask him about it.

Him: "I'm not married if that's what your asking, but if I was would it matter?"
Me: Um, yes it would matter, I would never date someone who was married. I couldn't hurt another woman like that knowingly.
Him: Well I'm not married, but obviously if someone is unhappy enough to cheat things aren't working so it's not like it's a real marriage. Would you really stop seeing me?
Me: Yes, of course I would. There is no excuse.

The conversation ended there because we started making out. Yes, I'm a terrible person, yes I was extremely stupid. But I'm telling you, he was just soooo good looking, and the high that I got from someone that hot being attracted to me made my head swim.


I saw him once after that it very, very far from pleasant.

So Gary Allen wherever you are please go DIAF. As for me I've been doing penance for my vanity for two and a half years now. The karma police totally got me.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Creepy Dan

To continue on with my horrendous dating history I give you Dan.

Dan is a nice guy, a complete dork, but that kind of turns me on. What can I say, I'm easy. I met Dan in the basement of our Public Administration building. Dan drops his books. I help pick them up.

Are we seeing a pattern here folks? Callie sees someone who needs help, Callie helps, Callie gets trapped into an awkward conversation and an unwanted date.

I give Dan my number, he seems normal. He calls me that night, we meet in the outside picnic area on campus. He pulls out his wallet and proceeds to show me pictures of his 12 cats. They are all professionally done.

I get out of that situation as quickly as I can. I avoid Dan's calls. (As you can see I'm AWESOME and confronting any type of situation head on) Dan stops calling. I feel relief.

I'm working at the dorm cafe one night and a co-worker (Emily for clarity's sake) comes to the back storeroom and tells me someone wants to see me. I go out.

There is Dan - with more pictures of his cats. I like cats, I really do. In fact I have two. I do not like cats enough to have professional portraits done of them and then carry them around with me. I give Dan an awkward smile and tell him they are wonderful.

Emily tells Dan that he's creepy and weird and he needs to leave, especially as he shouldn't have been able to get into our card-swipe in only dormitory.

Dan leaves. I hug Emily.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Scary Mike

My past has been full of interesting characters. The most interesting, complex, and terrifying have been my dates. Especially in college. My roommate Dani and I would give nick-names to all of my dates as soon as I got home from them. She always got the play by play.

Scary Mike was my first experiment in college dating. I met him as I was walking from the cafeteria. He had a huge full beard, long biker hair, and was built like an alcoholic, over-the-hill linebacker. He was walking to the tin buildings across campus for an art class. He had three huge canvases (canvi?) and the wind was blowing hard. One flew out of his hand and I went to catch it.

The picture was a watercolor with a flaming scull and naked women.

I still walked with him to class carrying the picture for him. He asked me for my number and I actually gave him the real one. This was before I found that hot line number that gives the guy the brush off for you and then lists different suicide options.

He called the next day and we had lunch a few days later. He was still scary so I decided to avoid him until he lost interest. He called me twice a day for two weeks and one day I saw him in the bushes of my dorm watching me walk to class.

The next night I was walking back to the dorm alone from dinner with some friends and I see Mike. I grab a campus newspaper and try to hide my face. It doesn't work as it's almost impossible to pretend to read a newspaper while walking down a curvy sidewalk. Plus, walking down said sidewalk with an enormous newspaper does tend to attract attention.

He sees me and asks how I am, why I haven't called and proceeds to go into detail about the horrible things that have happened to him since we last spoke. I feel terrible for him and agree to go for a walk.

I know what you're all thinking: RUN CALLIE, RUN LIKE THE WIND.

We went for a walk, down to the dark unlit pond. We sit under the willow tree on a picnic bench. We talk. He starts molesting my ear.

I'm not even kidding. It's traumatizing. He devours the thing and I'm just sitting there not moving at all. My brain is screaming at me to get up, to tell him to stop slathering my ear with spit. Finally I tell him to stop. He does. We talk some more. He molests my ear again.

My ear must be extremely beautiful because that seemed to be all he was interested in thank God.

I finally tell him that I need to get home because Dani is probably locked out of the room as she NEVER carried a key. He protests and slobbers on my ear some more. I get up, we walk back. We walk through the theatre hall, past the long lines of people waiting to enter Dora the Explorer LIVE. He tries to hold my hand, I pretend that I like children and do the "aw how cute hand movement" to keep from getting trapped by his greasy palm.

We get to my dorm, I run inside and straight into an extremely angry Dani, who has indeed been locked out of our room.

I tell her the story. She makes me call him immediately and tell him that I'm getting back together with an imaginary boyfriend and to never call me again.

I see him occasionally on campus in the bushes but he never says anything.

A few days later a weird rash shows up on my ear and down my neck.

He gave me ring-worm. It took 4 months for it to clear up.