Ex Marks the Spot...and It Is Permanently Stained

Okay, now I've read everything. I just read an article on how divorced people found love through their exes in different ways. And, yes, a couple of these people were actually introduced their new loves by their exes. Wha??? After over 7 years of being divorced, I just want MY ex not to call at 7:30 a.m. on Saturday or Sunday morning when he KNOWS someone has slept over. This is courtesy of snooping by my wife-in-law (his wife) as she drives by my house on the way to play tennis. Geez. They get dates, I get cock-blocked. I'm not asking to be Bruce and Demi, Lord knows. I don't even like the guy, much less want to hang out with him. Even though I can definitely picture him being Bruce-like; not in a cool, 'Die Hard' way, but in a Seagrams Wine Cooler/bad blues singing kind of way. I just want him to get a hobby other than trying to make me miserable. Please.

A Dying Breed

I hope the rumors that Paul Newman is facing terminal cancer aren't true. While at 83 he has led a long, happy, exemplary life, we as a nation, and particularly a culture, are going to be much less for his passing. While he isn't perfect, as no humans are, he has always displayed a strength, class and dignity sorely missing among the Hollywood stars of the last couple of decades. He has managed to enjoy a long, happy marriage with Joanne Woodward without sex tapes or jumping on couches. He has pursued his hobby of racing cars without turning it into a paparazzi sideshow and photo op. He has quietly donated millions and millions of dollars to charities through his Newman's Own line of natural and organic foods without feeling the need to call a press conference or calling attention to himself in any way. He has simply always, for the most part, chosen to do the right thing. He is such a class act. I was incredibly saddened by the death of Sydney Pollack recently for the same reasons. He was successful, funny, brilliant and a genuinely good guy who made significant contributions to our culture in a quietly dignified way. Our lives were truly enriched by these gentlemen, and our culture will lose much as we lose them.

What Goes Around Comes Around

I received an email from a guy I corresponded with a couple of years back yesterday. He used to be quite hot- tall, funny, athletic, successful...all the right things. He kind of disappeared, but saw my pic online and got back in touch. I haven't made my subscription active, but I guess sinced I logged on the other day it made me visible again. Who knows? He's had plenty of time to get unhot in the meantime, but at least it is something. We'll see- I'm pretty skeptical, but everything does happen for a reason, so I'll go with it for a while. I'm definitely taking the nothing ventured, nothing gained, nothing to lose route with this one. And praying he's still hot:) Yes, I'm somewhat superficial. Who isn't?

No More Yanky My Wanky...the Donger Need Food!

I feel like Long Duck Dong from 'Sixteen Candles', only with 100% less sex. I'm exhausted. One of my favorite cousins got married over the weekend, and the last week or so, most days have been spent celebrating or recovering in some fashion. So, she's married, it was a fantastic wedding and an even better party, and I need to take a break! While I appreciate all the compliments I've received on how young and hot I look, a few days of partying remind me I'm not so young anymore. I couldn't even make it through the hoops last night, I was out like a light.

News from the dating front...none still. But, I'm doing well in not contacting Bachelors #1-3 at all, and not responding to them. I'm feeling better about myself, so hopefully it will start spilling over. I took my 15 year old son as my date to the wedding party and had a great time, he was definitely the most handsome man there. And didn't have to worry about him calling back! And I'm still nixing the online thing as of right now. I think I need to just take my chances in the real world, I just need to get out of the LBC. I'll get back on the road for work next week and maybe something good will happen, no matter what it is.

The Real World

My current dating drought (almost 6 months, in case you missed my ALL-CAPS tirade a couple of posts ago) has made me consider trying online dating again. Or, as I have taken to calling it, long-line dating. As in there has been a long line of disappointments and a few broken hearts. But, in a quick perusal of the two sites I have used in the past, mainly I just see a long line of I Don't Think So. I think I'll take my chances in the real world instead of the virtual world. While the opportunities are fewer, at least I can get a real feel for the guy up front, rather than a virtual one. Because you know what? Online first impressions (and even second impressions) are virtually always wrong impressions.

Plus, I think right now it would be better for my psyche to be rejected for real issues than virtual ones. You know?

I've Got Your Iron Man

Mission accomplished with the lingerie shopping last night. I do always feel better when I buy something pretty, even if it is only underwear and no one is going to see it *sigh*. Go figure, huh? I also bought some books, a replacement for my dead 'happiness bamboo' (I'm guessing that was killing my feng shui) and went to a movie. I had a little time, so I stopped in the only restaurant with a bar in 'The Mall' here in the LBC- the Little Bitty City- the always happening Ruby Tuesday. Really, who can place a name on you? Ugh. Luckily for me (please re-read those words and make sure they are dripping with sarcasm), a group of gals around my age who have teenagers as well were there getting there drink on and heading to the movie. Sex and the City, I figure. Now, I'm not hating on SATC...went with some of my gals and loved, loved, loved it. Of course, we did it right. We went to brunch, got liquored up and looked HOT. Actually, it has helped me get out of my funk. Anyhoo, I walk in, dressed pretty cute (seriously, not too hard to look cuter than the soccer moms that were there), with my Victoria's Secret bag o'goodies. I sat at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. They were drinking and, I'm serious, this is the most giggly, obnoxious group of Fortysomethings you can imagine. Loud. And they were giving me the side-eye, now. Naturally, I assume that I am quite the topic of conversation here in the LBC today. I was a little uncomfortable at first, but came to realize that so what? I'm single, I wasn't trying to pick anyone up, and it's not my fault they all quit making efforts to look good or have anything interesting to say a long time ago. So there. They didn't spoil my good mood.

Now, on to Iron Man. All I can say is the movie rocked, the pad in Malibu was totally boss, and Robert Downey, Jr. was majorly foxy in this flick. I walked in an admirer and walked out in lust. Damn, where's my Iron Man? Go forth and see this film if you haven't.

Six F'n Months

I was just reading the blog of one of my favorite radio personalities. She is currently casually dating one guy, and evidently still dating around. In today's installment, she is asking what the rule of thumb is when a guy asks you for your number. Does he call in 48 hours? 24? 72? HOW THE HELL WOULD I KNOW???? I HAVEN'T HAD A DATE, OR ANY INTEREST IN ME, IN 6 FREAKING MONTHS!!!!

I can't believe I just typed those words, but they are true. I'm sure part of it has been the hermit-like existence I've been living, but still. So, this week (actually starting last weekend), I'm trying to get back to the old me- just an improved version. I'm making sure to dress cute everyday, I'm going to start seeing movies again and, best of all, hitting Victoria's Secret this evening. New lingerie is bound to make me feel better. Feeling a little naughty is always a good catalyst. Hopefully putting something different out there will change my karma! Here's to hot shoes and hot lingerie, and hopefully a hot man:)

It's Been Good Getting to Know Me More

After a loooong hiatus of soul searching, being vaguely depressed and, in general, not being myself, I'm attempting to pull myself up by my boot straps and get back to being myself. In all this time, I haven't written a word. Blog, short stories, essays, nothing...and I have missed it and missed the outlet it gives me. So, I'm back!

Take This Job and Love It

Obviously, some jobs are better than others. I'd rather be selling construction materials than, say, bottled water. What are you going to say, that my water is wetter? More clear? Less taste? That's got to be a tough sell. Here is my list of what I believe to be the best jobs:

1. Meteorologist- You don't even have to be right. I mean, seriously...how many days is your forecast actually right? Maybe it's a Southern thing, but I'm going with 'hardly ever'. Plus, when have you ever heard of a meteorologist getting fired for being wrong? Maybe for a dearth of personality, lack of camera presence, bad wardrobe...but never for being wrong. How many of us could stay on the job being wrong most of the time? I rest my case.

2. ESPN Personality- Again, you don't even have to be right. You don't have to be polite, pertinent, make valid points, research, or know anything about your subject. You just have to be loud. REAL loud. Loud enough to drown out the other guy. Then, evidently, you win!

3. Being Tilda Swinton. She's bullet-proof. Seriously.

4. Maxim Music Critic- You don't even have to listen to the whole album, just a couple of advance, unedited singles. Then, give the album an arbitrary rating and sufficiently pretentious review. Where do I sign up?

5. My Ex-Husband- Oh, to be absolutely right, absolutely 100% of the time. Must be heaven.

6. Katherine Heigl's Hair Stylist- Evidently, these days she is embracing the Harried, Hurried Suburban Mom look. All you have to do is throw some hot rollers on her head in no particular order, and off she goes! She's late, ya'll, and it's her day for snacks at ballet.

How to Lose This Gal in Ten Words or Less

I just read yet another article on what not to say to a woman. They always crack me up. ‘Don’t tell her she’s fat.’ Uh, don’t tell anyone they’re fat, dude. Anyway, in the spirit of the ongoing list I’ve been creating of what I’m looking for in a partner (working title-‘Why I’ll Always Be Single’), here are a few suggestions of ‘Things To Never, EVER Say to JK'. These are actual quotes from actual men I’ve dated/encountered, albeit briefly. Very briefly, in most cases:

1. ‘Don’t you just love American Idol?’
I didn’t stick around to see if this was a joke.

2. ‘I love Italian food, too! Olive Garden is my favorite restaurant.’
Other disqualifications: Mexican:Cozymel’s, Chinese: Anything with ‘Wok’ in the name, and the mere mention of a buffet.

3. ‘Subtitles? You mean I have to think AND read?’
Well, can you?

4. ‘You should have worn something tighter.’
*crickets*

5. ‘So you wouldn’t get boobs even if I bought them for you?’
No, and even if I did, I still wouldn’t let you touch them.

6. ‘Why do you change your hair so much. Other women don’t.’
It’s my one vain thing. I get ready in 30-45 minutes tops, start to finish. Leave me alone.

7. ‘I’m glad you aren’t the kind of girl who likes flowers.’
I am, actually.

8. (After I’ve cooked dinner) ‘This is good. But you should taste my Mom’s.’
Then let your mom cook it for you, Mr. Ungrateful.

9. (After I’ve declined ice cream…which I simply don’t care for) ‘You really should eat. You need some fat on top of that muscle so you can be more feminine.'
Nice.

10. ‘I don’t really read.’
Well, as they say, ‘See ya in the funny pages.’ Or, in this case, maybe not.

11. ‘All girls say SAY they like sports, but none of them really understand them. No way.’
No comment. I'm not going to embarrass you.

12. ‘I’m not really an SEC fan. But if I rooted for any SEC team it would be Alabama.’
Runs screaming.

13. ‘You look pretty good for someone that old.’
And you look pretty good for someone that’s about to be alone.

14. ‘You don’t really ever think you’ll meet someone, do you?’
Sits in silent dismay.

15. ‘I don’t really watch football.’
Well, good thing for you, your Saturdays will still be free!

And the worst…

16. ‘I don’t get it.’

The Big 'O's

I am one of the few people who was actually interested in the Academy Awards this year, since I had actually seen most of the films. Not just 'Juno'. Things I found of interest:

Of course, what will be referred to from now on as the 'Gary Busey Incident'. Seriously, if you are going to invite someone with major head trauma and a history of crazy, shouldn't you have a guard standing by? Like Ryan Seacrest was going to do anything. Jennifer Garner handled herself well and I already loved Laura Linney, now I love her more for coming to Jennifer's rescue while Ms. Seacrest did nothing.

John Travolta and his spray-on hair. Oh. My. God. I was howling...someone has been staying up too late watching infomercials. I'm just surprised he didn't stroll the red carpet wearing Blue Blockers shades.

Helen Mirren was even more awesome and stunning than usual...perfection. Millions of gay men exploded in a cloud of glitter and confetti when she appeared.

I have a new female crush, (I've only ever had one other one, Angelina Jolie), Marion Cotillard. I just watched 'La Vie En Rose', and immediately wanted to move to Paris and smoke cigarettes while listening to Edith Piaf. She was amazing. And Marion Cotillard is, in my teenage son's word(s), 'Hhhhhot'. She was so gorgeous on the red carpet, yet was able to be such a crippled little creature in the movie. Unbelievable. And I don't know who that idiot was that ABC had on the carpet, but I'd have given a huge amount of money for Marion to light a cigarette and say, 'You stoopeed American cow...I know you did not see my feelm. It is not possible that you can read.' That would have been boss. But, she was polite and charming. I was happy she won, even over Laura Linney.

I still can't believe 3 songs from 'Enchanted' were nominated, and only one from 'Once' and none from 'Into the Wild'. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I was soooo happy when 'Once' won, though. And Jon Stewart gets major props from me for letting Marketa Irglova speak. Totally boss.

One of the most interesting stories of the night was Tilda Swinton. This chick makes whatever movie she wants to make, and is loved. Lives with an artist, Robert Byrne, who is supposed to be brilliant. They have twins together. She then brings home this young hottie to have a little fun with, and old Robert seems to be okay with it. They are all living as one big happy family. So, she has a great career, one intellectually stimulating partner, one smokin' hot boy toy, kids, the balls to make fun of Clooney at the Oscars, and the gays worship her even though she wore a frock that looked like someone pulled some drapes off a Tim Burton movie set and threw it on her. She probably could even wear Crocs* and they'd love her. Who says a woman can't have it all these days.

*Crocs- the single worst thing to happen to fashion in the last decade. Even worse than Uggs.

I adore Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and was happy to see him win an Independent Spirit Award for 'The Savages'. He didn't seem as grouchy as usual. He and Laura Linney were absolutely terrific in that movie. I also loved him in 'Before the Devil Knows You're Dead'. I didn't see 'Charlie Wilson's War', so I can't speak to his performance in it, even though I'm sure he was awesome. I had to skip that movie, it falls under the 'Julia Roberts Codicile' in my movie-viewing guidelines. That being, that I really heartily dislike Julia Roberts and refuse to watch any movie in which she appears except 'Notting Hill'. So, sorry, Phil.

Renee Zellweger always has the same look on her face- she squints her eyes and purses her lips. Bless her heart, if she would have opened her eyes, she might have noticed she was marrying a repressed, balding homosexual who always wears cutoff T's and too-tight blue jeans. She must not hang out at too many gay bars. Or gyms.

I give Miley Cyrus 18 months or less until she's downing shots and snorting lines at Hyde. Mark it down. Plus, what in the world was she doing there?

Rebecca Miller (Daniel Day-Lewis' wife) reminded me of another interesting story that got practically zero press last year. It came out that her father, Arthur Miller, had a son with Down Syndrome that he forced their mother to institutionalize and pretty much ignored him his entire life. Miller didn't acknowledge him until after his own death, in his will. Fascinating read...was in 'Vanity Fair'. Not really Oscar-related, but interesting.

Hilary Swank is a fine little filly. I know her trainer is proud.

And, speaking of horses, finally, everyone is complaining about the horses in 'Michael Clayton'. Was I the only one who made the connection, tenuous as it was? Huh.

No Sushi for Me, Thanks. Ever Again.

Being a parent is hard work...no doubt about it. There are no hard and fast rules, no one-size-fits-all handbooks, and all training is, unfortunately, on the job. That being said, I think I've done an okay job, so far. One of the first things you teach your child is to dress him or herself, starting with underwear. And, believe me, when they are a toddler they sometimes forget the drawers so you've got to check. Now, I promised myself that I wouldn't pile on Britney Spears anymore, since mental illness is certainly no laughing matter. And I do think her parents are getting her somewhat under control. But, the last few nights, she has been photographed out and about with no panties on, flashing her goods to the paps. Just like I always make sure my boys have used the potty and brushed their teeth before we leave the house, knowing Brit's history, don't you think Mom and Pop Spears should make sure she is wearing some undies before she hits the door? For everyone's sake? I know it would ruin my dinner if I rolled up on that peepshow at the front door. At a sushi joint, no less. *Ugh* I cannot begin to fathom the embarrassment her boys are going to experience at some point...kids can surf the web awful young these days, ya'll.

I'd mention Lindsay Lohan's mom, but it is evident Lindsay grew up in a 'pants-optional' kind of home. So, carry on.

The Day the Dictatorship Died

Big news today...Fidel Castro has stepped down as head of state and, probably more importantly, head of the military in Cuba. Other than possibly disproving the previous premature reports of his death, what does this mean? Who knows what it means for Cuba. What does it mean for Americans? A proliferation of pretentious talking heads droning on about the humanitarian and economic impact on 'Cooba' when you know all they care about is getting those cigars so that they can continue to be smug and self-important during their weekend soirees at 'the shore'.

If I Die, Who Will Find the Body?

I feel like crap today. Absolute caca. I hate being sick. My assistant is sick as well, so guess who gets to work? Yep, me. Being the boss IS boss most of the time, but when you are sick, it's like being sick when you're a mom...tough s*it, sister. Suck it up and work it out.

I'm ready for bed.

Will Windex Get That Out?

I saw 'There Will Be Blood' yesterday, finally. My conclusion? Daniel Day-Lewis was astounding...he deserves every award he has won and will win. He was pitch-perfect. I loved many of the parts, but I am still mulling over how I feel about the sum of those parts. One thing I am sure of, though, is that I love that bowling alley in his house at the end of the movie! *Spoiler Alert* It was so boss- I'd love to have one. Minus, of course, the dead evangelist oozing blood and brain matter all over the hardwood. Don't you know THAT can wreck a finish.

The trailers were quite intriguing. A few thoughts:

1. Is Keira Knightly some kind of celluloid vampire? I mean really. Does she not appear on film unless it is set prior to the Second World War and she is clad in costumes and reciting pithy dialogue? I know there was 'Domino', but since no one actually saw it I consider that film an urban legend. Good news for me, though. I don't do period pieces, and she annoys the crap out of me. So, win-win.

2. If 'In Bruges' is 75% as funny as it looks, I'll be happy. Which, of course, means it will be 25% as funny as it looks and I'll be 100% ill that I spent $11 and 2 hours on a hot mess of a movie.

3. I don't know if I can put into words how much I love Daniel Craig. I don't even remember the name of the movie he has coming out, but who cares. Not only did he single-handedly resurrect the James Bond franchise, he is a major fox. When he says, 'Bond, James Bond' at the end of 'Casino Royale', I get chills all over my body. Excuse me while I go watch 'Layer Cake' again.

Valentine's Day Massacre

What is being massacred, you ask? Only my pride. I know I shouldn't hate on a day that is supposed to celebrate love. But what started out as a simple mercenary conspiracy amongst florists, candymakers and greeting card companies to make a little extra change has turned ugly in the hands of the women in this country. Now, it has two purposes: to make the male population feel terrible, and for women to one-up all their friends and co-workers. And, a fun side benefit is to lord it over all the single women out there. Last year, I was running an errand and some clerk who I didn't even know asked, 'what did you get for Valentine's?'. Me: 'Um, nothing. I'm single.' Her: 'Really? Too bad. You should really have gotten a date'. Bitch.

Seriously, what is this insane need to make other women feel insignificant and worthless? It is bad enough that I have spent the last 2 days ordering flowers for my mother, buying candy for one kid's class party plus gifts for his teachers, stuff for my kids, and making sure the oldest has proper arrangements to take his girlfriend to dinner. All so I can sit home alone. And, on top of things, NOT a good week for me, lovelife-wise. At all. Do you really have to twist the knife? Isn't this supposed to be a sweet gesture between you and your beloved, not a trophy proving you are better than me?

Anyway, Happy Valentine's to everyone in the spirit of retail. I'll choose to be happy to receive the 'gift of giving'. And, be careful out there...you don't know who you might bruise with your gloating.

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

Wow. From prison to pups. No, not Michael Vick, that would be backwards. Patty Hearst, best known for being spending time in prison for robbing a bank with the terrorist group The Symbionese Liberation Army (who are these Symbions and why do they need liberating?) has won an award with her French Bulldog at the Westminster Dog Show. Never saw this one coming. The award is named The Best of Opposite Sex...definitely NOT an award she'd have won in the joint.

I'm convinced John Waters is behind this...it has to be a movie.

Being Simple

I've been Natasha'd again. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it is pretty obvious at this point that I am not what most men want in a partner. Maybe for a fun time, maybe for good conversation, even a romp, but not for a possible future. And, considering most men, that’s not a bad thing. But, this wasn’t most men…far from it.
In case you don’t know who Natasha is, she was a character on the HBO Series ‘Sex and the City’. She was the wife of Mr. Big, who was played by Chris Noth. After stringing Carrie Bradshaw along for years (Sarah Jessica Parker, wonderful in her breakout role and quite, um, interesting wardrobe choices), telling her he didn't want to marry again, basically putting her through hell (a glorious hell at times, but let’s stick to the subject), Big met and married Natasha in a whirlwind romance. Natasha was portrayed by Bridget Moynahan- a signature role for her. Nice enough, pretty enough, no obvious bad qualities, no obvious personality. Check out her character in the movie 'Serendipity'...same thing. A simple girl, as opposed to Kate Beckinsdale’s more complex character who connects with John Cusack on one magical evening. And simple definitely always seems the way to go- convenient, no fuss, easy, no messy passion to deal with. In our fast food society, that’s what we gravitate toward. So what if it isn't the best option. Even if it isn’t the best thing for you, isn't easy always better? And that's what Big told Carrie he wanted. That being with Carrie became too 'complicated'.
I felt Carrie's pain. I, too, am not a simple girl. While I am not a raging b**** like a lot of men prefer (yet another story), I don't see life and love as something akin to finding a good parking place (or a prom date, but again, another story)- 'hey, this one is close, has enough space, there is still a little time on the meter, and all my friends like it.' Never mind that you are going to constantly have to feed the meter or move your car to the other side of the street. This one is here! There is something to be said for choosing the spot that is further away, maybe a little harder to find, maybe a little more difficult to maneuver, but the parking is unlimited and the walk to your destination is so much of the fun. At least that’s what I tell myself at the Wal-Mart.
There is a song I love called 'Being Simple' by The Judybats. There are numerous reasons I love this song, but mainly it touches my soul like few other songs, and tells the story of said soul:
'Hearts cannot be broken, they're small squishy things
They don't break like glass, but they bruise easily
This one you bruise
Words will not be spoken, never knowing what they mean
Sticks and stones hurt my bones, your promises have broken me
Each one you break
CHORUS
And I want to be good, but good is being simple
Simple is forgetting
I simply can't forget
Eyes are always open, even when they sleep
Mine are mostly closed while yours are wandering
You look where you please
CHORUS
I want to be great but greatness is giving
Giving leaves me empty
Oh great emptiness
Souls cannot be taken, they're large and they're loud
Yours merely whispers lately; seems it's shrinkin'
I wish it would speak
CHORUS
I want to be great but greatness is giving
Giving leaves me empty
Oh great emptiness
I'm not simple. Like the song says, my soul is large and loud. I tried to be simple for years, just trying to make myself be happy with good enough, but I decided that life is something to be lived, not endured. Simple is beige. My life is painted in large, colorful fashion- love, laughter, fun, conversation, passion...all these elements are rendered in bold, broad strokes. This is not how I grew up, nor is it something that was given to me. But, it is who I am. The problem is, it's not always easy.
The last time I was Natasha'd, it wasn't even for a specific woman, just the Natasha prototype. A few came and went, and Bachelor #1 always came back to me. See, he couldn't 'figure me out'. Evidently, that is a problem...I have broad, diverse interests and can't be characterized, or put into a box. Even though he is a graduate of a very prestigous university and a successful international attorney, he constantly tells me I'm smarter than him. And I don't think he means it as a compliment. I don't care about social status, constantly redecorating, or jewelry. While I love looking good for my partner, I don't have to be the prettiest girl in the room. And, yes, I like a good foreign film as well as 'Saving Silverman'. I love sports, I don’t just pretend to watch while chasing a guy. I read. I have intelligent conversation, as well as completely inappopriate laughfests. While you would think these things would be a positive, they weren’t, necessarily. They weren’t simple. Even though every other area clicked for us, I couldn't give him the perfect partner he wanted that would fit in with all the other Stepford Wives and girlfriends. And he couldn't give me everything I needed emotionally because of that. Then, the other problems started coming up. You really watch MMA? Whoa. Next! He turned out to be the simple one. Because we were both missing something, we each had one foot constantly out the door and ended up hurting each other’s feelings, more than once. I finally ended it many, many months after I should have. But, it was easy to stay. We got along well- heck, we get along well now. But it wasn’t enough for either of us.
Bachelor #2 is harder to figure out. While I was on and off with Bachelor #1 for almost two years (and married for 13…don’t ever call me a quitter!), I haven't had nearly enough time with Bachelor #2. He is incredibly intelligent, with a beautiful mind that makes me weak in the knees. He has a razor-sharp sense of humor with the intellect to back it up. He makes me laugh, he engages me, he absolutely gives me butterflies that no 41-year-old woman is supposed to have. But I do, I get as giddy as a schoolgirl. I fell for his mind first, and then when we met, there was a blazing-hot passion. I didn’t think it was possible to connect with someone on every level like I did with Bachelor #2. And, he said he felt the same. All of the things that seemed to be an issue with Bachelor #1 were exactly the things Bachelor #2 said he loved about me. But, there were obstacles, distance and work. A trip was cancelled to preserve another person’s feelings, which devastated me. He asked me to wait, to be patient, and I did. He promised me he was committed to trying, even though the spectre of the other person loomed. That relationship is over, he said. And I was being ‘so cool’. While my mind was screaming at me to move on, something is wrong, I didn't, because my heart and my soul were whispering 'stay'.
The biggest problem with being non-simple (anti-simple? unsimple?) is that you are considered cool. Too cool. Therefore, you don’t have feelings. You don’t want to hurt the simple girls, they get their feelings hurt so easily. So, if anyone has to be left in the cold, guess who? You got it. It is bulls***. I feel. I feel deeply. I feel deeply and passionately. And right now, there is a literal, physical weight around my heart…I feel the bruises all the way to my soul.
So what happened while I was sitting home being ‘so cool’? You guessed it- Natasha’d again. For someone more convenient- the spectre who never left. Even though there is no passion, she's nice, cool, she cares for him and his friends like her. I don't know if she still has any change in the meter or has picked out her prom dress, but I digress. I can't change who I am. I can't be simple, and, unfortunately, I can't be convenient right now. I can’t play the friend card, I don’t know them. What I can be is full of life, love, laughter, fun and passion that I want to share with someone. And right now, that someone is Bachelor #2. I just don’t know that I’ll ever get the chance, or if I’ll ever see him again. Thus, the difficulty breathing.
I don’t know what the future brings, no one does. Is it completely over with Bachelor #2? Who knows. Can I be sure that Bachelor #2 and I would make it? Of course not. I’m actually a little terrified of getting married again, but I’d like to think I could someday. Or maybe horrify my family and live in sin with someone. I’d like to at least have a chance to have something real with someone who reaches me in the way I now know is possible. And maybe there isn't another soul out there that will talk back to mine, but I'll continue to have faith and listen. In time.
And, by the way, Mr. Big divorced Natasha because he grew tired of beige, and ended up with Carrie. John Cusack’s character left Bridget Moynahan’s for just the thought of Kate Beckinsdale. Two previous boyfriends have told me in the last few months they made a huge mistake in breaking up with me. And Bachelor #1 never gives up, bless his simple little heart.
I guess there is something to be said for a little color after all.

Three Hours of My Life...

I watched the Grammys in their entirety for the first time in probably 10 years. I think I'll wait another 10. Or 20. I don't know if you watched it or not, but some observations:

Carrie Underwood is really cute. And I know I'm not a guy, but putting her in hot pants and trying to make her sexy is like trying to do the same thing with a puppy. Doesn't work and should raise the eyebrows of the appropriate authorities.

Shouldn't there be some kind of time limit on Beatles' songs (remixes or otherwise) from being allowed to win Grammys? The soundtrack to 'Love' beat 'Once'? Why should anyone ever make original music again? And, this means we have to listen to Ringo try and pretend he was any kind of creative force. Ugh.

Andy Williams and Tony Bennett shouldn't have been forced to leave the home for this. The teleprompter is totally confusing them. Soooo uncomfortable. And I bet they are pissed they are missing tapioca night and 'Cocoon 2'.

Tina Turner is hot. And almost 70. I hate her. And so wish she would knock Beyonce off the stage.

I have an ongoing issue with CBS...have you seen their promos for their lineup? Almost everyone BUT 'How I Met Your Mother'. What? And why is no one else watching this show? What is wrong with you people?!?!?!?!?!?

I am officially horrified at modern country music. Brad Paisley is on stage, wearing more glitter than a drag queen at Pride, singing a song with the lyric 'I'd like to check you for ticks'. Oh. My. God.

Kanye West is immensely talented. Truly. And immensely insufferable. TRULY.

One of my favorite bloggers, J. Harvey at www.asocialiteslife.com just wrote something I wish I had- he wondered how many more sports Will Ferrell will make a movie spoofing. He can only hope the next is the biathalon...and there is an onset accident. Heh.

Vince Gill is officially my hero. Did you see? His award was presented by Ringo Starr and Dave Stewart, and he said, ' I just got presented an award by a Beatle. Can you say that, Kanye?' I...LOVE...HIM!!!

'Rhapsody in Blue' is totally boss. No snark here; it still enthralls me over 30 years after hearing it for the first time.

Just in time for Black History Month...Martin Lawrence, Raven, and Jackee' in a movie with eye-rolling, finger-snapping, and more uncomfortable cliches galore! What, Cuba Gooding, Jr. wasn't available? I know Dr. King would be proud.

Is that Jerry Lee Lewis or is this 'Weekend at Bernies 3D'? I'm seriously not sure he's even alive.

Little Richard. I won't say anything, because I don't want to offend African-Americans, gays, drag queens, wig-wearers, molestache-wearers or Porter Waggoner (who evidently posthumously donated his suit.)

And John Fogerty was performing with those two. Do you think he went home and cried?

Flight of the Conchords won Best Comedy Album! Now THAT was a speech I'd love to hear...Murray calling roll for the people he'd like to thank...'God? Is he present? Speak up!'

I have a new nightmare...the Monster.com commercial with the freaky looking guy with the enormous thighs. Won't sleep...thanks, Monster.com.

will.i.am is singing 'Mack the Knife'...stop...now he's doing some kind of rap nonsense about the awards...really, stop...STOP!!!!

Quincy Jones needs to join Andy and Tony at the home. Wait, no, I think he's just drunk.

The only way the ending sequence could have been any weirder (cast of 'Love') is if that freak from the Monster.com commercial came lumbering through.

Just saw on the local news...there will be a debate between state senatorial candidates soon at the Catfish Opry in Noxupater. I keep picturing fish singing on the wall like that singing bass. Yes, this is my home state.

You, Me and Jolie

I just read an article detailing the similarities between hottie Tom Brady and nottie Derek Jeter. (Those views are strictly the views of Bringing Foxy Back. It's my blog, so there.) Naturally, it made me think of the many similarities between myself and Angelina Jolie. Come on, admit it. You think about them all the time. Here goes:

Angie: Humanitarian and activist
Me: Human and active

Angie: The most talked about lips of her generation
Me: Even though I have the biggest lips of anyone I know outside of a Fat Albert cartoon, she still wins.

Angie: Infamously talked of having sex with Billy Bob Thornton in the limo before an awards show.
Me: Famously rode in a limo once. For Reals!

Angie: Loves body art. She has several tattoos, and sports even more in her next role as a heavily tattooed assassin in ‘Wanted’, soon to be seen by millions on the big screen.
Me: Got a temporary henna tattoo in Jackson Square in New Orleans once, and the process was filmed by a German tourist. My bare midriff has likely bored tens of friends and neighbors in Deutchland forced to watch his vacation videos.

Angie: Has a seemingly solid relationship with Brad Pitt- perenially hot, a great dad, and activist himself.
Me: I have a seemingly solid relationship with my TV remote. Even though I have been suspicious that someone else is pushing it's buttons lately. *Sob* Next, please.

Angie: Kicked butt as Lara Croft in the ‘Tomb Raider’ films, seen by millions.
Me: Kicked butt on the eliptical machine this morning, alone.

Angie: U.N. Ambassador
Me: Drank the UN-Cola once.

Angie: Long, beautiful, lustrous brunette locks.
Me: Hot new bangs. Checkmate, Anj.