On Making Friends

So I've talked about my awkwardness with the younger generations. Lets talk about my awkward with people my age.

There's a reason that I have so many experiences with creeps, geeks, and the deranged. I'm a little bit of all of the above.

Since moving three years ago to a new town and a new job I've made exactly zero friends. The friends I tried to make (all two of them) were either grumpy and old or fired from work. There's a light at the end of this tunnel though. A couple of weeks ago I met a new girl at work. We started talking, she was funny, smart and had a lower lip piercing - my kind of chick, in a totally hetero way (oh who am I kidding, we're all a little bit gay, just like we're all a little bit racist).

Anyway, stepping away from the potentially offensive (told you I was awkward), this girl and I were talking, lets call her Aubry, and I was getting super excited at the prospect of a new friend. At one point I actually blurted out, "ohmigosh! We could totally be besties!"

Yeah, I then had to work on recovery. I went on to say that I'm not as creepy and weird as I seem and I get better with time.

Hopefully she'll take me up on my offer to hang out once she gets moved up here. Although on thinking about it, I probably said something like, "once you move up here let me know where you live so I can sit outside your house and watch you through binoculars" instead of "we should catch a movie sometime."

Oh well, I've still got CG. I've managed to somehow hypnotize him into staying with me. Sometimes I wonder why he's managed to stick around, then I remember he's a little bit creepy, geeky, and deranged too. We're meant for each other in a totally creepy way.

Black Holes and How I Cause Them

I'm getting old. I think I've discussed this here before, as it terrifies me beyond belief. How is it possible to BE OLD at 25? I've managed it somehow. This, however, will not be a post about my fear of oldness (don't judge, it's t0tz a word). This will be a post about how I, as an old person, interact with young people.

I think I'm pretty awesome, pretty much all of the time. I may have a "fat day" or a "lazy slob day" on occasion, but self-esteem is not really a problem. I'm the coolest and most adorable friggin' fatty you'll ever meet and I know it. I'm also pretty sure that my family knows it too. I've got some really amazing young family members. Two younger sisters who are the epitome of awesome and several cousins so fabulous they're beyond description. My sisters and two of my male cousins I have a great relationship with, because I see them all the time.

The problem comes when I'm introduced to any of their friends/ boyfriends/ girlfriends/archenemies. I'm awkward. I make inappropriate comments. That's who I am. For some reason teenagers don't seem to like that. So far I have managed to keep the embarrassment that I inflict upon my younger family members to a minimum. There will come a time though when the epic-ness (don't judge that's also totally a word) of my brand of awkward will cause an embarrassment so large that a black hole will form out of the spontaneous combustion of my family member. This black hole will then suck so hard that it will pull everything in it's range into tiny atoms and particles then condense them into it's center. Creating a ball so dense and heavy that it enhances the gravitational pull of the black hole, thereby expanding it exponentially. Thus ending the world as we know it.

I'm unsure how to frame the blame on this particular event when it happens.

My youngest sister Myme is bringing a friend over to my house for the second Friday in a row. I managed to keep cool through the first visit, but this is just asking for trouble. If I inadvertently cause the end of the world, please excuse me, and blame Myme.

Ac-cen-tuate the Positive

The last month has been pretty nasty for me. Lots of gross, sad things happening and it was all too easy for me to get lost in them and forget about the great things, the amazing things. Well my trip home this past weekend got me past a lot of that.

I'm not going to go into why I'm re-prioritizing because it's not my story to tell, but suffice it to say that the things that seemed so huge and scary just days ago have been made ludicrous. My problems are laughable and I've had a very good time the last two days doing just that.

So I've got some amazing, fantastic, unbelievably awesome news (at least for me). I mentioned earlier my possible trip across the pond to the U.K., it's now a total go. My middle sister, Meg, is already in Swansea doing a study abroad program at University. My youngest sister and I will be going over to see her on (or around) May 15.

This was all brought about by two fabulous ladies that have done more for us girls than anyone should, especially considering how terrible we are at keeping in contact with them. Our Fairy Godmothers have given us their hard won frequent flier miles.

Excuse me, I'm not sure if you heard me . . . WE'RE GOING TO FLY TO AND FROM LONDON FO' FREEZIE.

I'm going International bitches! It's Callie - the World Tour. I'm spending a week in England and Ireland with my fabulous sisters, doing fabulous things, seeing castles, going to the sea-side, and pretending to be posh.

I promise not to do a fake British accent, but I can't promise to stop being awesome.

I can feel the eye-rolls from you world travelers out there, but I'm pointedly ignoring you. I've never been farther than Canada and Mexico. I'm going to be taking a huge, international plane. I'm going to be jet-lagged. I'm going to see London, I'm going to meet the Queen (okay, maybe I'll just be a creep and tour her palace - OMG I'm going to be in a palace!!!), I'm going to make faces at the palace guard, I'm going to visit places where Jane Austin lived, I'm going to drink myself silly in an Irish pub, I'm going to get my picture taken on the bridge where The Quiet Man was filmed, I'm going to meet a handsome Irishman and have a torrid affair that will end after a drunken kiss when Meg pulls me off and reminds me about CG. I will then try to set up Meg with said Irishman because she needs to have little Irish-brogue-speaking babies.

Meanwhile, my youngest sister, Myme, will be singing Danny Boy with the best of them and will be asked to stay in Ireland to attend University there on a vocal scholarship and get her law degree in Dublin or some equally charming local.

Okay so the last bit, after the bridge from The Quiet Man will most likely not happen, but it's my dream sequence and I'll end it how I want.

So if any of you are "world travelers" yourself, hell, if you've ever looked through a book about England and thought, "well that would be neat to see" please feel free to give advice, or tell me about places of interest, things to do, foods to eat, beer to drink, or places to stay.

Thanks and YAY ME!!!!

$13.98

A few weeks ago I found an absolute deal. A new shampoo and conditioner had just come out and there was a rebate attached to it - for the full amount of purchase. I happily picked the set up, dutifully filled in the forms, put on a stamp and sent it off. Today I got a check for $13.98 in the mail.

I'm so excited to cash my check. I'm so savvy! LMAO.

Then

CG and my two year anniversary is this Sunday, well technically it's February 29th, but since that day won't come around for another two years we just get as close to it as we can.

It's pretty impressive I think. Two years is a long-ass time, like, really long. Supposedly the "spark" (or whatever kids are calling it these days *takes off old lady cap*) starts to fade after the first year.

It still feels like our second date to me, except I'm not nearly so uncomfortable about the cleanliness of my house or worried about the last time I combed my hair.

Anyway, two years is a huge deal for me. I've never been any good at maintaining any type of relationship, whether it be boyfriend, friend, job contacts, etc. It just seems to take more effort than I'm willing to devote to it.

To put it another way, I have officially devoted two years of my life to the upkeep and health of a relationship without regret AND without screwing it up beyond repair.

So yay me! And thank you CG for your unending amounts of quiet understanding, doofy humor, strength, sweetness, and for just sitting quietly with me when I'm sure you'd rather be actually doing something.

I try not to end my posts on too sweet or depressing a note so in closing I guess I'll provide one of my most favorite de-motivators.

Things I've Forgotten

My brain is a funny thing, a scary, funny thing. Sometimes thoughts fly through it so fast that even I have no idea what I'm thinking. I catch the tail end of a thought only to wonder moments later when my brain has slowed, "why would a fuzzy elephant dance the cha cha slide in 7 inch heels made to look like Frank Sinatra's spats from Guys and Dolls?"

I don't know.

I'm not sure where this entry is going.

I'm rarely sure of anything. So lets just get started.

I forget things a lot, to the point where I almost feel the need to talk a doctor about it. Everyone has those days where they get home from work and don't remember 90% of their drive home. But whole chunks of memory tend to fall right out of my head.

I can't remember what I ate for dinner last night, the events of my day tend to get jumbled in my head and I can't remember the correct order for most of the things I've done or said. If someone asks how my day was I'll smile, say just fine and go on. Please don't ask for specifics though, I don't remember them.

I'm terrible with names, I'm terrible with faces, I'm terrible with voices. In fact, the more I like someone, the harder it is for me to picture their face. It took a good two months of actively concentrating on CG's face for me to commit it to any kind of memory and even now, the only reason I know that his eyes are brown is because I've forced myself to pay attention to them a couple of weeks ago.

I just don't see things. I may stare at something for hours and have no idea what I'm looking at.

There are a few things lately that have brought this into harsh reality. I was going through my jewelry tub (yes, a jewelry tub and yes pretty much everything is tangled and tarnished) and found my Han Solo illegally modified blaster pistol necklace and a tiny silver owl pendant necklace. How could I have forgotten about either of these finds!? I mean, the first is a fucking Star Wars necklace and the second, how could I forget that tiny adorable owl? I absolutely love owls. They're my favorite animals, in fact, I used to collect the cotton filled toys at any and all wildlife parks I went to.

I had forgotten my favorite animal. How is that possible, especially with all the Harry Potter hype, Hedwig - hello.

The next was even more frustrating and upsetting, although not as unusual as forgetting about your favorite animal. I lost a ring, lots of people lose jewelry, especially rings, it's easy to do. I, however, almost never lose jewelry, it's one of the few things I can manage to keep hold of in my life. My tendancy is to lose the pieces that are the most important to me. My great-grandmother's ring and pendant set with the birthstones of her 5 children disappeard from my car 6 years ago. The ring this weekend was from CG, totally beautiful and wonderfully large and sparkly, I wear it everywhere and don't give a tiny dead baby rat's ass if it doesn't match what I'm wearing. Sometime during the day it completely disappeared. I don't remember taking it off, I don't remember snagging it on anything, I don't remember seeing it or not seeing it for most of the day. Just gone. Very frustrating.

The last was Sunday night as I was trying to sleep. I finally calm my thoughts around 10 at night only to pop back up wide awake at 10:05 anxiously worrying about the little girl that my parents were babysitting over the weekend. I went back over the day and couldn't remember seeing her after church let out that morning. She was no where in my head. I knew that she had to have been with my parents and that she was perfectly fine. But I could not calm down or stop worrying about her until I could remember. I finally broke down and called my mother at 10:30 at night to ask her where the little girl had been after we got home from church. She was asleep on the couch the entire time. As soon as she said it I remembered and was able to sleep.

It's scary and weird. I'm also very sure that it's a sign that I'm going to lose my mind in my early thirties. Something to look forward to I suppose.

Having Goals . . . maybe

So, my whole Katie the Dog fiasco is turning a bit hopeful. I took the monster home last weekend to my hometown vet and we decided to give her a month to heal by herself. The Vet doesn't believe it's as serious as the ER vet did. So we've got her on some anti-inflammatory and stuck in her cage for about 22 hours a day. I feel terrible, but a little discomfort for a month is totally worth it if she doesn't have to have invasive surgery.

Dog drama down to a minimum *thumbs up*

I also got my hair cut this weekend - that's one goal for 2010 down. LMAO

I'm still working on the travel thing. Since we aren't sure yet if Katie is going to need surgery in a month or not I'm in a holding pattern right now. If she needs the surgery I won't be going anywhere for a while, if not then I'll get to fulfill one of my goals for the year. I just have to get my ass in gear and get my friggin' passport. *goes to google search local locations*

In other news, I had a wonderful Valentines weekend, which included a nicely violent hockey game with box seats and a delicious Budweiser beer, and a taco bake casserole with cheapish pink champagne. I'm the fucking classiest broad EVAR. I also got my ass kicked by Current Guy at basically every Wii Sports game. Tragic.

Technical Difficulties

I'm having them. I don't have time to deal with them, so I just switched some things up. Thanks for understanding!

Happy New Year (2 Weeks Late)

So we leave Nashville and begin another 7 hour trip to our final destination, a cabin on the Smokey Mountains. CG continues to drive, I feel a little bad, but not bad enough to volunteer for the position. Meg plays more college rock, Myme and I play more Pokemon (I forgot how addictive that game is and I'm only a little ashamed of how much I enjoy it).

We get there and it's really just beautiful, the cabin is big and everything that could be made of wood was. There's a hot tub and a Foosball table, a lake and a gorgeous view. Honestly, I spend half of trip sick in bed, getting up occasionally to play pinochle or rummy or cuddle next to CG feeling sorry for myself. The other half was spent reading, playing more pinochle and rummy, and then going to a cave our last day there.

I know, I know, I was in the mountains I should have hiked, explored, seen the sites. You're right of course, but two things prevented that - 1. There were snow storms in the surrounding areas that closed pretty much everything and 2. I'm lazy and like to lay around doing nothing on my vacation. Don't judge me.

On the 30th some of Mom's friends from Alabama came over with REALLY good Mexican beer and nachos. I like Mom's friends a lot.

New Years Eve a few of us went out to dig up fireworks since FES is from Germany and they always do fireworks for the new year. They managed to find some and came home. That night Dad and Meg set them off, but they were nothing in comparison to our next door neighbors. These guys were drunk and had explosives the size that a small town would buy for the 4th of July. They were nicely drunk and still managed to get a few aimed right and when that happened the display was beautiful. However, I'd say at least 40% ended up hitting their deck, our deck, our house, other houses, or a person. The next day we found our vacation agreement with the people we rented the house from, it explicitly said no fireworks - woops.

So that last full day at the cabin CG, Dad, Grandpa, Meg, and I squeeze into a car, and head down the mountain to a cavern, one of the few things that remained open and snow free. I adore caves, seriously, I'll drive hours to walk around in one. First glance this thing looked shady and we weren't sure it would be worth it. We went anyway, and it was totally worth it.

The caverns were beautiful and our tour guide was epic. He was the most useless human being I've ever met in my life, he ruined the endings to 3 movies, talked about his girlfriend's 25 pound 16 month baby, showed us parts of the cave that looked like sexual organs (Grandpa was RIGHT THERE), and was just generally the negative southern stereo type that I know to be false for the bulk of the population. He provided wonderful conversation for the ride home until Dad was pulled over and given a speeding ticket by a county mounty. Then we talked about that.

Our trip home was much the same, CG driving, Meg and her music, Myme and I reading Dean Koontz and Laurel Hamilton respectively (don't judge us, it's vacation we can read trash if we want).

Mea Culpa

So, I went back to the family farm for Christmas like I do every year. It was super fantastic, no fights, very little yelling, and lots of great watery smiles. We went to my Dad's family Christmas on Christmas Eve where we got to see my aunt's new boobs for the first time. They were very nice looking, although I couldn't look at them straight on, staring at a family member's boobs is like looking at an eclipse, they should never be viewed full on.

A fabby time was had by all, although I have to admit I was a little sad that we didn't make it to the Christmas light display in the city this year. We did, however, find a ridiculously decorated house a few blocks from church after Christmas Eve services.

To derail wildly from the original topic: I'm not a huge fan of my parents church, just a lot of personal issues: the new pastor is kind of an ass. He decided that the church needed one of those swinging incense thingies that Catholics have (my family is Missouri-Synod Lutheran). The first time he used it he accidentally smoked the entire congregation - none of them were very forgiving and when he overloaded it a bit the next service you could feel the eye rolling going on. A guy I've spoken to maybe twice since he started coming tapped me on the shoulder and told me loudly during the sermon how ridiculous it was. Lutherans DO NOT talk or make noise during service (which is why I was always a terrible member).

This is probably not amusing to anyone else, but I giggle a bit every time I think of that 20 something pompous wind-bag choking on his own incense. I'm obviously a terrible person.

Okay, back on track: Christmas day was great, lots of good fun that is funny and all that. I got Dad an MP3 player already loaded with songs, however, once it was plugged into my sisters laptop to play on speakers it automatically downloaded her songs and deleted mine. So now Dad has the Spice Girls and other pop music phenoms from the 90's. He's a little less than thrilled about that.

Our big gift was the trip to the mountains that we left for the following day.

The Oil Change Saga Continues

I'm taking a trip after Christmas. It's going to be a long one; the first long one I've taken in my beautiful new car. I want it to be in the best possible condition for taking said trip, it's like an athlete you know, you've got to make sure it's warmed up, trained, full of fluids, and . . . vacuumed out?

Anyway, that means a trip to the local Speed Lube and a visit with my least favorite and most inappropriate mechanic.

He was there, as he always is. They opened the back doors and waved me in. As soon as I stepped out of the car he told me to turn around, get back into it and go home - they were closed. I smiled uncertainly and hesitantly re-opened my car door. He rolled his eyes, murmured something I couldn't hear and flipped up my hood. I head inside to the waiting room only to find the heat off and the plastic lawn chairs that normally adorn the room MIA. I head back into the garage where the warm air pours down from the ceiling.

I have been effectively trapped into watching my car get her oil changed and chatting with HIM while it happens. I pull out my iPhone and pretend to be very busy and important. He snidely comments that iPhones are "fucking pieces of junk, but you must collect junk since you're driving a Pontiac."

I look justifiably horrified and am unsure what I'm supposed to say in reply. Not only am I unhealthfully obsessed with my phone, but I'm also in a special kind of love with my beautiful 2008 Pontiac Vibe (we're coming up on our year anniversary in January!!!!).

I point out that this car has rave reviews from Consumer Reports, was manufactured on the Toyota assembly line, and has been nothing but fabulous since the day I got it.

He goes off on a tangent about foreign cars.

I try to change to conversation back to something I'm more comfortable talking about, Scarlett Johannson. I know from previous experience that he's a fan and I'm more willing to talk about the "screwability" of a starlet than about how my taste in cars and electronics bites the big one.

This conversation somehow morphs into a diatribe from him about how he IS NOT attracted to any males and is as NON-GAY as you can get. In fact, he isn't even attracted to himself. He doesn't think he's good looking at all and would never "do" himself.

I go back to talking about cars.

How is this dude the manager? I'll give the guy the benefit of the doubt and assume that most of what he was saying was supposed to be a joke, but even as one long joke it's a horrifying way to communicate.

I may end up making these bi-monthly visits into bi-monthly blogs as well. I had intended on never going back to this particular place, but it's a gold mine of awkwardness.

Male Validation

So I've finally caved. I've joined the ranks of reality show junkies.

My drug of choice?



I love that train wreck. I've managed to avoid Survivor, Big Brother, The Bachelor, etc., but give me fat girls with emotional baggage and I'm all over that shit like white on rice.

What absolutely makes this show for me has to be the non-repentant need for male validation and approval. All of these girls are so desperate for positive male attention that at the first smile from Luke they're instantly in love, crying, and proclaiming on camera to millions of people that their self-esteem has never been so high.

Really, this is what us fat girls are bringing to the table in relationships, co-dependence, inferiority complexes and complex carbohydrates (did anyone see those waffles on the last episode, damn they looked delicious and I don't even like breakfast)?

The young one, Mel Something Or Other, was the one I was rooting for. She was the most tragic mess. I really felt for her and wanted her to do well. Except for the fact that "doing well" in this competition meant winning the affection of the most herpes infested, dirt bag, male chauvinist pig I've seen on acceptable and politically correct TV. When she left she assured us that she grew in experience and self-esteem and that this was not the end, she would get her happy ending.

Girlfriend better settle for paying a male erotic masseur if she's thinking a man is going to solve all her problems. At least that way she can be guaranteed an orgasm and a back rub.

Then there's the "I love you" girl, (Kirsten, Kristian, I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it starts with a K) this chick was bug-nuts. There aren't any words for how obsessive, stalkerish, and desperate this woman was. She scared me, a lot. Now she's gone too.

So what's left to look forward too you ask? Well the three thinnest girls and the biggest hoe. Shocker.

All I can think when I see the King of the Douche Bags kiss another girl is, "No God NO! HERPES HERPES HERPES, protect yo' self! Get some dental dams or something. Do not kiss that man, Lord knows where his tongue has been in the last 30 minutes, down at least three or four girls throats, and I saw the way that he looked at that horse on his romantic date with the big hoe.

You can't fool me Luke, you can't fool me.



So Luke and some cute, blond chubby girl are on a date. He comments on the view and she agrees that it's beautiful. Then he says, "I was talking about about you." The cute blond looks like a deer in the headlights. How in the world can she be so pleased and shocked by the most overused, pointless, gag-inducing phrase man has ever uttered? If anyone EVER said that to me and was serious about it I'd be sick. Literally, I'd try to hold it in, but I make no promises. The only way to react to something that ridiculous and snark worthy is to puke right in the guys face.

Then on this very same date Luke talks to cute blond chubby girl about family and kids. She figures she will work and not stay home with them. He condescendingly asks her how she thinks the child care arrangements will work out with both of them working. Uh, hello asshole, if a woman wants to work, let her and child care is not just her problem it's your's too you chauvinist wanker. Please DIAF.

Cute blond chubby girl goes home too.

I hate this dude.

I just wanted my oil changed . . .

I was getting my oil changed last night after work and was talking to the manager. Every time I come in he has something off-topic and inappropriate to talk to me about.

Last time he talked about famous people he found attractive and wanted to sex up. Then asked me the same question, males and females. Me being me, I of course immediately spouted off about my lust/love for Angelina Jolie and Scarlet Johansson. Then he got graphic and started talking about his fantasies, luckily my phone rang and I was able to end the conversation.

This time he talked to me about how he left work early the day before so that he could go to the nearest bar and drink. How he's pretty sure he's an alcoholic because of it and that he just doesn't care. He continued to enumerate on the virtues of drinking until you pass out in the middle of the day and can't remember anything.

I have no problem with either of these topics when discussed with friends, but the random ass guy that I'm trusting to change the oil in my car? Not so much.

What about me says, feel free to tell me inappropriate and off topic information about your personal life?

It happens all the time. I'm just trying to be polite in the supermarket line, say Good morning, how are you? and then have to listen as some random girl tells me about the boy she had sex with last night and how tired she is today because of it.

I readily admit to being the Queen of TMI, in fact, it's a running joke with most of my friends. However I try to control myself enough to to NOT talk about it with the man trying to repair my cable.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.