Flip My Star Trek Switch and Hear Me Roar!

They say a picture is worth…a thousand giggles.  Right?  Or in this case, a thousand “AMENS!”   (Kudos to eye guy’s bro-in-law for passing on this image.) Counselors should clearly print out copies at marriage retreats, then send everybody home to save time, money, and sanity.

A Universal Letter Addressed to the manly masses….from EVERY WOMAN I KNOW:

************************************************************

Dear Guy “I’m Dating” (or the guy any woman is dating, married to, sleeping with, hoping to sleep with, engaged to, or about to dump)….

Please memorize the above dials on this ever-so-retro Star Trek control panel.

As you can CLEARLY see, women are simple creatures.  Find our optimal frequency, and we’ll love you throughout football season…into the playoffs.  Dial down the wrong buttons, and we’re apt to come unglued at the most inappropriate times…most likely in front of your extended family at Disneyworld.

Guys…with so many switches, what’s NOT to love?  Think of our diverse emotions, our quick ability to switch moods in the mere time it takes you to floss. Can you imagine your life without laughs one moment…and cries the next (all during Extreme Home Makeover)?

Yes, we are neurotic, opinionated, bossy, exhausted, bee-atchy, high strung, and blunt.  But if you look closer at those multi-colored knobs…you’ll also discover we’re lovable, funny, “can’t-live-without,” soft-spoken, intellectual, sexual, and given-just-the-right-amount-of-alcohol…extremely flirty.

So, dudes – find the mood you like…and give our knobs a twirl.  Just try and avoid punching the sensitivity button ALL TIMES of day.  (Although we can’t tell you where that one is located permanently…because it changes on a daily basis.)

For our best “operating results”…read our instruction manual.

Who cares if it’s in Chinese?   The language barrier certainly doesn’t hinder you at Mr. Wong’s Asian Buffet.

If you’re a real man, you’ll read the directions. And if you’ve lost the directions (along with the refrigerator manual)….it’s best to pull over and ask for help.

Signed,

the love or lust of your life (mood-dependent)

Some Things THANKFULLY Never Change

Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know the drill…the ole familiar mantra.  Life is about change, right?  Change is inevitable.  Change forces you to grow.  Blah blah blah.  (Damn those motivational speakers!)

Don’t get me wrong.  I do relish some change…in certain situations.  I enjoy changing my hairstyle, my toenail polish, my sheets (oo-lah-lah), underwear, and of course my address (when I moved to Denver).   On the flip side, I HATE changing my own flat tire.

But some things…I just want to stay “the same.”  For comfort reasons.

On top of my “no-changes-allowed” list…tried and true friendships.   You know….the ones you can count on one perfectly manicured hand.

Thankfully, the bond I have with certain girlfriends has never changed (sounds cliche but true).  I don’t have “blood” sisters, so my girlfriends are my “true” sisters.   Yes, our lives have transformed over the years…but our emotional connections haven’t.  True BFFs survive a typhoon of marriages, divorces, hangovers, cross country moves, breakups, breakdowns, newborns, new jobs, bad jobs, no jobs, 50 cases of PMS, and about 1.2 million bad and good dates.  And I haven’t even mentioned the mini-makeovers, pounds lost, pounds gained, and all those damn exercise hours in between.

This comforting reality hit me last week when one of my BFFs (aka Brendy) visited moi from Kansas City.  (I used to live there a few years back.)  As any good hostess, I showed her all the beautiful “mile-high” city highlights.   We sauntered down Larimer Square, rubbed elbows with the cougars at Elway’s, burned some laps at Wash Park, and even conquered Rocky Mountain National Park.

More importantly, though, we just cut to the chase and fell into our old BFF routine….the one that never changed. Same friendship…just a different location.  Our fears…plus our dreams….all rolled into one conversation.   Minutes in, Brendy and I were “in the zone”…best described as a combination of hot gossip, emotional details, genuine reactions….coupled with spurts of laughter, “oh-my-gods,” bedroom details, and various bitch sessions.

Bottom line…who cares about salutations and fluff…when you can get to the heart of the matter efficiently?  Throw in some red sangria and watch the conversation run rampant.

A few days in to Brendy’s visit…..I realized something.  Spending time with her…made me miss her EVEN more!  Of course I had missed her the last few years….but as her departure loomed ahead…and the clock seemed to speed up….we realized the scope. It was huge…and special.  Something I hope every woman experiences.

Brendy and I boo-hood like teenagers leaving summer horseback riding camp the night before her flight back to Kansas City.  We hugged on the couch and felt pretty darn “Hallmark-card” pathetic.   Heck, I’m surprised we didn’t buy cheesy friendship pins…or carve our initials into some poor tree.

After she left, I was seriously depressed all day…secretly sniffling to myself while editing video at work…trying to write an episode.  Brendy texted me from the plane equally as bummed.  Sigh……our big adventure was officially over.   When I got home…I scarfed down potato chips, crawled under a blanket, and watched a chick “Sundance film festival” movie…attempting to think about something OTHER than my best friend’s absence.

Later that night, “Eye Guy” came over to attempt to cheer me up.   Like any man, he wanted to “fix” the problem…then “make out.  :)  And like most women mourning the departure of someone special, I told him I needed my space (aka “get lost”) and to call me the next day.  My pity party was my own and no one else’s…and would certainly not be ruined by some dude.

When the alarm rang the next morning, I made a conscious effort to find my “big girl panties.”  I pulled my mood out of the gutter.  And suddenly….all was “right” again in the world.   Driving to work,….my acoustic satellite music channel acting as a sappy soundtrack…I pondered my blessings

As women…we need each other. It doesn’t matter what stage of life we’re currently “in”…or moving “into”…or “leaving.”

The lesson here….good friends really don’t change…instead…they help you roll, conquer, and survive all of your own life changes. And distance…well, it’s just a small detour.

If you like this post, send it to one of your BFFs.

When Good Men Wear Bad Clothes

Since my blog is all about me “being real”….let’s be real about men’s fashions — or rather the LACK of fashion some men posses on a daily basis.

The bad news — I see a lot of attractive men in their 30s who frankly…are dressing like old-white-JCPenney-grandpa-wanna-bees instead of stylish guys with good jobs and even better personalities.

The good news — women in their 30s are totally open to completely changing a man’s wardrobe and hairstyle (if he indeed still has hair).

Before you men call us “judgemental” or “superficial”…think of this…at least women are seeing the real you…and not the clothes you’re currently wearing.  It’s called POTENTIAL.  We were innately born with more fashion sense than you’ll ever be able to absorb through literature, Men’s Health, and advice from your gay buddies.  We simply don’t care if your clothes are out-of-style…because we can fix the problem with more speed than a Jiffy Lube technician.

“He’s fun, genuine, has a big heart, cute….but he really needs some fashion help.”  Wow…If I had a martini for every time I heard that (from one of my girlfriends’ mouths) I would probably be residing at the Betty Ford Clinic by now.  The key term here is “fashion help.”  The reality – women just want to “help.” Even if it’s not a REAL emergency.

Some quick advice guys…leave the hawaiian shirts, dated golf shirts, tapered jeans, and pleated khaki shorts at home.  Better yet, drive down to the Salvation Army and unload them along with your white AND/OR black Reeboks and Dr. Scholl’s.  One young man’s trash is ALWAYS another old man’s treasure.  Any why you’re at it, toss out those ugly Keen sandals you’ve been hoarding.  Those don’t look fashionable….they just look weird and orthopedic.  Bottom line, if it looks like something your dad or grandfather would even GLANCE AT — (or your grandmother would buy) start using it to clean or buff your car.  You won’t miss it — and in the long run – neither will your future girlfriend.  Also, for the record…I have NEVER EVER EVER heard a woman say…”My boyfriend looks so hot in that golf shirt….You know the one with the crazy stripes.”

It’s so utterly refreshing to hear a man say he needs fashion help.  Guys…Just come clean.  Women in their 30s need help too.  Unloading heavy groceries, changing an A/C filter, and putting windshield washer fluid in the “right hole” currently come to mind.  You scratch our backs (or something else)…and we’ll scratch yours.

Cute be told…my current “Eye Guy” recently called me in for fashion advice. Like ALL men, he possesses numerous items which should have been purged a decade ago.  (Think early 90s fashions from the “Friends” era)  When I asked him why he had NOT recently cleaned out his closet, he replied, “I have attachment issues.”   I responded, “To what, bad clothing?”  We both had a good laugh…but then he booked me for a closet cleaning session later the next week.  I plan on getting him tipsy before the event to deaden the pain of seeing so many bad clothes go “bye-bye.”

Guys..the solution here is actually easy…Just give us a couple hundred bucks and let us run rampant at Target, Banana Republic, and DSW like a sugar-obsessed toddler in Toys-R-Us.  We’ll spend your money wisely and efficiently…creating multiple outfits in a single outing — all, of course, up to our standards.

I promise…we’re not asking you to personally embellish the word “metro-sexual” and make it your new “bumper sticker” mantra.”  We’re not begging you to ONLY shop at Nordstroms and designer boutiques.  We’re not mandating you “DVR” Project Runway weekly.  (We still need you to be a man.)

We’re simply asking you to let us into your world — or rather your unchartered closet.

So I Told My Mom About My Blog

Inevitably, secrets rise to the surface.  This past week, I took a leap of faith (or craziness) and informed my mother about my somewhat anonymous blog.  The time had come to share with her I had transformed from a geeky, straight A elementary school student into a 30-something year old serial Denver dater on the eternal prowl.  (OK…this is a stretch, but you get the point.)

I knew if I didn’t tell her…the news would leak.  Already, my “twin girl-power cousins” were “in-the-know.”  Plus, it was only a matter of time before some random family member got tipsy (aka drunkola) at one of my Irish Catholic family reunions and spilled the bloggy beans.  So…I sent my mother (who lives in Texas) a simple email, came clean about my life in the virtual world…and waited.

Dot – dot – dot….

A few days later, my mom called me and immediately launched into what I prayed would become a “positive lecture.”

She spouted off – right at the top – three main points…”I love the blog!  You’re talented and your writing is humorous.”  Then (after a pregnant pause)…“but every now and then I catch a whiff of bitterness.  And I don’t want people to think you’re bitter.  Because you’re not.”

You know what?  She’s right.  I’m not bitter.  And I don’t want to come across as bitter.  In fact, BITTER could become the new “4-letter word” in the world of 30-something year old dating.  I do, however, want to come across as funny.  I credit my writing style to my slightly sarcastic sense of humor coupled with uncanny ability to laugh at bad relationship snafus.  For some reason, I find humor in situations when other women may shed tears – or break out in rage – or give up!  Maybe I’ll just call it a chronic case of resiliency!

I do, however, see a lot of single women in their 30s who are bitter.  And men too.  But face it, men aren’t really reading my blog like women are – so why waste time talking about men? (My mom might say this is an example of my bitterness.  Lol.)

My philosophy is simple – there’s a BIG difference between “having your guard up” – and acting “bitter.”  And yes, while I’m constantly “on the prowl”…AND keeping my guard up while perusing for Mr. Right….I never want to be considered bitter.  Bitter is bad.  And if you’re bitter – men can sense it before they start talking to you at a bar….Or while they stand behind you at the Target check-out line.  So wash away the bitterness…before it becomes your next cologne.

Yep, I’ve been heart broken, dumped, cheated on, lied to, dissed, stood up, even left stranded in a park…but somehow I keep pluggin’ along – knowing SOMEONE SPECIAL is out there – earmarked for moi.  And if he senses I’m bitter – he’ll just jump ship to the next blond.  I’d rather pour my heart into a possible relationship, take a chance, and face rejection once more again — than GOD forbid – act bitter.

So Mom, thank you for becoming my newest reader.  Please remember – you may not like all my posts.  In fact you may cringe at some of them.  But I hope to offer you many laughs.  I’m sure we’ll disagree at times….but ONE thing we do agree on – I’m NOT bitter.

Also, since you finally have DSL….how long will it take you to figure out I mentioned you in my blog?  Bonus points for figuring out how to “comment” on this post.

Love, Me

XOXOXO

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Man…..I need a Manfriend!

Not to date, NOT to potentially diss, but to befriend…

Consider my recent smackdown with my girlfriends this past week.  I lectured, “You know what, we need guy friends!  Enough of this dating crap, let’s just try and be friends first.”

They looked at me as if I said, “For lent, I‘m giving up moisturizer and lip gloss!”

Here’s the skinny…I’m sick of  “yaying” or “naying” someone after a one-hour date.  Sure, sometimes I immediately sense disaster – or – delight.   But 50% of the time I simply classify the date as a cross between “dull” and “not-so-dull….”  Then like clockwork, the cartoon cloud over my head pops up with that oh-so-familiar conversation.  “Do I like him?  Well, he was nice ENOUGH. Should I text him back?  He looked weird in that shirt.  Maybe he didn’t know he had food in his teeth?  I think he’s too old.  Maybe it was the lighting?”

I’ve decided DIFFICULT is the nice “alternative” 4 letter word for dating in your 30s.  We don’t live in the la-la land of single people anymore.   We’re the minority – at the office -at the gym – and definitely at church.  Gone are the days of living in a town called Singledom (filled with rampant 20 something yr-olds) where 100% of the population is…..SINGLE and available.  It used to be EASY to get to know guys through college courses, friends, groups, the bars – because you saw those peeps on a regular basis and grasped their personalities.  You also witnessed them at their worst – and best – and in the end, some grew on you – and some didn’t.  Nowadays – we’re just forced to sit and stare at someone for one hour – then judge.  And I hate that.

So hence my recent belated New Year’s resolution to make more “guy friends” in 2010.    Maybe we can be friends first, and something else later?  But not until much later.  (Like maybe when I know you’re not a psycho)  This brings up the old When Harry Met Sally question….”Can men and women be friends without the sex part getting in the way???”   Hmmm…  Personally, I think men and women CAN be friends — with both parties thinking about shacking up — but it never really happening.   For instance, late one night, I was sharing a cab ride home with one of my guyfriends after drinking a few tooooo many brewskies.  Out of nowhere my friend Sam deviously whispered, “Come on…come home with me.  No one ever has to know.”  (Yeah, no one except me!! I thought)  I quickly threw some money at the cab driver…and giggled myself to sleep that night…flattered, but happy I hopped out of the cab pronto.

On the flip side, often “manfriends” transform into great boyfriends.  The sparks fly because you’re already comfortable with that person.  You’ve already accepted their baggage, and they’ve hopefully forgotten yours.  But once you blur the line of intimacy…it’s hard to erase history.  The switcharoo usually ends fairly simple – in marriage – or heartbreak.  And things are just never the same.

Overall, guy friends remind me good guys STILL exist.  We need them – just like they need us.  I need a man to tell me I look smashing every now and then.  And they need us – to tell them what to buy at Banana Republic – and oh-my-goodness…get rid of that friggin’ unibrow!!

So yes, if I tell you, “Let’s just be friends…” I really mean it…especially in the next few months.  And I don’t mean the booty call kind.

Signed,

wingwoman searching for attractive wingman

Boring Women Have Clean Houses

A guy who I recently dated confessed to me once, “My mother always told me – Only BORING women have clean houses.”

Imagine my inner glee upon hearing these profound words.  I secretly prayed, “Thank you Baby Jesus, someone finally understands me.”

I guess deep down – his point was…”Why clean your house when you can spend time having fun?”

Not that I’m a slob…far from it.  But let’s just say…there’s mucho more important things in my life than working hard to shine the bathroom toilet with my old Oral B.  Hhhmmm…things LIKE:  working at my job, working on my inner self, working on my outer self (specifically butt and legs), working to find the cheapest happy hours in town, working to find the most available men in town, working to make new friends, working to keep the old ones, working on that promotion, working to eat healthy, working on my snow skiing form, working to stay mentally fit, working to stay emtionally sound, working on my blog, working to spend money, working on saving money, working to keep my parents happy, working to keep my pets content….

Oh my goodness…I’m exhausted just typing all that crap.  (And I’m only a SINGLE person!)  How do you married peeps with kids keep your own show running and on the air?

Somedays I have NO idea how I juggle everything.  Then I glance around and see the growing “volcano” of clothes on my bedroom chair, the “tumbleweed” of dog hair rolling through the hallway, and the stacks of recycling resembling a Jenga puzzle.  And I haven’t even mentioned the laundry that’s been stashed in the dryer for nine days….(did I even turn ON the dryer??)

Good lord…how did I get so busy?  It snuck up on my quicker than my 30s.  I forgot I’m supposed to be superwoman….work full-time, scrub like Mr. Clean, then throw on a pair of heels, and appear mesmerizing to my “date of the night.”

In an effort to maximize time, women, including my girlfriends, have tried everything to accomplish the following mantra — “I need an orderly house to live an orderly life.”  My friend Lacey planned her life for awhile using an excel spreadsheet – with color coding!  I decided to toss that idea considering I would have to “work” on my excel skills before take-off, thus sucking away more valuable minutes.

Another galfriend, Suzanna, bought the Roomba robot vacuum.  She left work hoping for a mini daytime miracle.  Ended up, Roomba was taking breaks on the job, and could barely suck anything up.  Roomba ended up in the next garage sale – looking for a new mommy.

And then there’s me.  Six months ago, I decided to have groceries delivered to my front door on a regular basis.  Every Friday morning, the milk man from Royal Crest Dairy (just like in Leave it to Beaver) leaves me fresh milk, butter, and eggs on my porch.  And every other Wednesday, courtesy of Door to Door Organics, I arrive home to find a box of yummy organic fruits and veggies waiting to take shelter in my fridge.  I’m not high maintenance…I’m simply trying to maintain my sanity as a professional 30-somethin’ single gal.

Gone are my days of spending hours at Safeway, cruising the aisles – only to lug milk jugs, egg cartons, and 40-ton bags of apples to the car in 10 degree temperatures.  (You’ve been there.)  Distant are my days of balancing five plastic bags at once while grasping house keys, struggling up two flights of stairs, and talking on my cell phone.  (Sound familiar?)

So how much time does this save??  I estimate at LEAST three hours a week.  And my grocery bill remains the same.  It’s a win-win for moi-moi….a godsend at times – especially when I work late or “play late.”

So…what do I do with that “saved time?”  Hmmm……good question.

Well, when push comes to shove….I sure as heck don’t use it to push a vacuum.  What fun would that be?

Ski First, Date Later?

This weekend, I am faced with a potentially catastrophic dating decision:

A.  Ski two days in the beautiful Rocky Mountains with separate groups of friends

- OR -

B.  Go out with a hot guy on Saturday night

To you “non-snow skiers” out there….go ahead and QUIT reading this post.  You won’t get it.  You’ll probably think I’m TOO fickle, finicky, or fanatical.  I’m over it, OK?

That's moi!

“Why can’t you do both?” you may ask…  Well, the answer – it’s simple.  This particular hot date DOESN’T ski or snowboard.  (I desperately wish he did.)  So, I am left leaving to choose….Powder-time – OR – Play-time?  Hmmm….which one will make me happier?

Some backstory here before you start judging:  During the week, I work in a “bomb shelter” – filled to the brim with video editing equipment, exciting gray cubes, flattering florescent lights, and glossy computer monitors.  I love my job, but let’s BE REAL people!  I’m aching for sunlight, gusty winds, the smell of sunblock on my face, and the taste of an “apres ski” beer on my lips.  I need a revival.  Especially after the last three weeks of never-getting-a-lunch-break-because-I’ve-been-so-damn-busy-trying-to-prove-myself.  Phew…

My nail-biting dilemma may sound trite….but it begs the bigger question — As we get older, WHAT are we willing to give up?  What are we willing to COMPROMISE?  I’m realizing as we hit our mid-30s – NOT MUCH.  Is this good or bad?  I don’t know.

What I DO know…the thought of forking over my coveted powder-filled Saturday and Sunday for a man-date – leaves me deflated and dull.  I’d rather choose the sure bet to happiness.  I moved to Colorado to ski – it’s one of my passions.  And I refuse to toss it aside for a make-out session and dinner (although that’s enticing.)

With snow skiing – I feel fulfilled, on top of the world – escapism at its best.

Going on a date – I could end up unfulfilled, at the bottom of the barrel, secretly wanting to escape.  Argh…

In the meantime…I’m counting down the hours til I load my gear, head west, and anticipate that first jaunt off the lift.

Yes, I know Valentine’s Day is two weeks away… I know 40 is roughly five years away… But for now, I’m choosing the mini-vacation over THE GUY.

My hopes – someday I won’t have to compromise.  Someday I can choose “C” and get “All of the above.”

Announcing my 1040 EZ Dating Questionnaire

In honor of tax season, I developed my own 1040 EZ Dating Questionnaire for all potential man-dates. I’ve decided this tax time – it’s time to cut to the chase with Denver men…Uncle Sams included.  I want to know up front – how many deductions I may face in the future.

My plan: to utilize the EZ form to weed out potential players, married dudes, and average losers…in the hopes of someday filing JOINTLY before I turn 40.  The 1040 Long Form is in the works, but for now I’m relying on this EZ method for some BIG returns.

So far my questions for prospects “out on the town” include:

1. Are you really single…or are you just playing THAT in your dream tonight?
2.  Is that your real hair?  Is that your real hair color?
3.  Do you have kids? If so…..do they behave?…….If not….do they live in another state?
4.  Is your mother by any chance………..a mute?
5.  Do the words “swiffer”…“dyson”…or “oxiclean” ring a bell? (R.I.P. Billy Mays)
6.  How long have you been OFF the Kevin Federline “Pizza, Pot, and Beer” diet?
7.  Can you please empty your pockets? And while you’re at it, show me your driver’s license, divorce decree, current proof of medical insurance, and Banana Republic credit card.
8.  Do you know how to boil an egg? What about water?
9.  Are you currently using an anti-wrinkle daily moisturizer with SPF 30? (cuz lets face it, you’re closer to 40 than I am.)
10.  You do know that unibrows will NEVER be in style, right?  RIGHT?

And for the bonus round…

*When is the last time you cleaned your bathtub? (Please provide date and approximate scrubbing duration time.)

*This post was absolutely NOT brought to you by TurboTax, H and R Block, or Just for Men.

Men are like Crockpots, Women like Woks

Cooking — an american institution for the sexes.  Who knew the pots and pans of today – could clearly define a generation of men and women?  Here’s my theory (after dishing dozens of meals and wandering aimlessly through Williams Sonoma) — Men and women resemble DIFFERENT types of cookware.

A man mirrors a crockpot.  He comes in 3 settings: OFF, LOW, and HIGH. Ironically, many guys also share the same stature and physique of the infamous slowcooker — SHORT – STUBBY – and ROUND.  Just like a crockpot, men typically can only handle ONE thing (aka dish) at a time, preferring to spend all their energy (aka burner) on one project alone.  Keeping the recipe simple makes it easier. Add multiple ingredients to their recipe – even a few extra spices – and men are apt to boil over – sometimes quickly.  Many dudes often keep a lid on their anger…or in other words…they simmer!  This can go on for HOURS upon HOURS with no warning signs at all.  Not even a peep – or an ounce of steam.  Then out of nowhere – an overflow of burnt anger!

A woman (unlike their one-dish counterparts) resembles a wok.  We can cook 14 varieties of chopped veggies plus tofu in five minutes flat – NO TIMER NEEDED. With the flick of the wrist, we simply handle extreme temperature adjustments without breaking a sweat.  At the same time, we somehow talk on our iPhones, update our facebook status, flatiron our hair, and convince our BFFs they don’t need “what’s-his-butt.”   Fight a grease fire in our trusty “never-rusty” wok – no problem!   We’ve conquered WORSE situations at family reunions in Arkansas. Perhaps our greatest strength – is versatility using the simple asian cookware piece – or in redneck terms, “a deep fryin’ pan.”  Sauteing, stir-frying, scrambling, and steaming – all come easy – even with the challenge of keeping our eye on multiple burners.

In the end though, when the dishes are dried, and the leftovers “saran-wrapped” up  - women secretly adore America’s most dependable small appliance.  We can’t fathom life without our stable, tried-and-true crockpots. Our cabinets would seem empty.  And men – we know you love our sizzle and spice, our attempt to keep everything “nice.”  Life would be pretty boring AND bland without us.

By the way, can you pass the butter?