Late Night with Lulu

Facebook

2012-05-19T12:22:00.004-04:00

I really like the concept of Facebook. I can keep up with what is going on in friend's lives, reconnect with old "friends", and Timeline will actually be worth it in 10 years when we're suffering early onset dementia (from a host of current day bad habits) and want to try to fill in the gaps in our memories.

Shit got pretty monumental on Facebook this week. They went public and it was one of the most popular IPOs of all time, I posted less than 5 status updates, the Harvard Boys Baseball Team went viral, and I was solicited by someone I'm pretty confident I met once but remember zero details about.

Message: "why you gotta be so damn pretty and a memory of mine I will never forget reallllllllllllly hope youd consider going out with me sometime hope to hear from you ya babe 555-555-5555" (obviously I'm not posting his real number)

After some hardcore investigating (i.e. texting our only mutual friend) and him deleting his facebook profile this morning, I'm no closer to solving the mystery.

I'm slightly concerned that the first thought to come into my head is: Coyote Ugly.

Crack the case or let it be? Thoughts? Opinions? Another viral video that I'll love nearly as much as those Harvard boys?

-Lulu

Fulfillment

2012-05-16T11:33:00.009-04:00

I've given a lot of thought lately to what I want to be "when I grow up". I'm a hardworking, well compensated, well appreciated consultant. I'm proud of my work ethic. I'm proud of what I've poured into my job. I'm proud to say that I have identified the steps I need to take to become part of the senior management. And, I'm being encouraged by the right players in that direction. The question is... is that enough?

I've always been free spirited and had a boundless, curious mind. Having had 2 orthopedic surgeries in the past 3 years and looking down the pike of a potential 3rd surgery, I've opened my eyes to understanding the workings of the human body. And let me just tell you, it's fascinating. Growing up, I changed my mind about my future career like most people change their underwear. Note: That means at least once a day. If you are shocked by that sentence, please open your eyes to personal hygiene. I wanted to be a paleontologist, a concert pianist, a psychologist, a car saleswoman, a sports marketing agent for the Dallas Cowboys, a forensic pathologist, a CEO, a professional singer, and most importantly, insanely rich for having accomplished nothing (see: Paris Hilton). Should I now add orthopedic surgeon to the list? The common thread in all these ideas (aside from the fact that a LOT of them start with the letter "P") is that they were fleeting thoughts to which I applied no effort. I never sat down and planned out the steps to achieve any of my dream jobs. And, here I sit, in my cubicle. I'm completing the tasks set before me and feeling more and more detached from the creative, inquisitive mind that I've nurtured for so many years.

When discussing this with great friends last night I received some simple but meaningful advice: "Take at least an hour a day and do something that interests you." And, that's exactly what I plan to do. It may shift from day to day but I am going to learn the code needed to write the next top grossing app, pursue starting up a company, brush up on my piano skills, and continue learning about the human body. I'm finally going to apply effort to my "dreams" and see where it takes me because I don't want to grow old, look back at my life, and realize that I held myself back from being the best "me". Will any of these ideas really take off? Maybe. Maybe not. I might find that my sense of fulfillment comes from generating the ideas as opposed to implementing them. I'm sure I'll find a lot of things out about myself along the way and that is paramount in my journey to lead a fulfilling life.

I challenge you to spend an hour of your day engaging in introspection. Do you feel like there are aspects of your life that could be revamped? Are you headed down the path you want to be on? Are you fulfilled?

Jawdropper

2012-05-10T16:35:00.002-04:00

I am currently in a state of shock. I'm in the middle of sending out a barrage of work emails when I see that I have a new gmail message from OKCupid. I get a number of OKCupid emails every week. *I know, I'm so popular...haha!* I figured it would be like all the rest. The "suitor" would be anywhere from 4'9"-5'5", 40+ years old, unemployed, and speak/write English as a third language. I'm incredibly desirable to the loser/reject demographic. The message:

"Hey You!

What have you been up to? I was hoping to see if you had a pic with your stright hair. so what are you up to this weekend.? Heading to WVA for mother's day?

Pete"

**Unfamiliar with the Pete saga? Catch up here (2nd half) and here.**

WWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTT???????????????

The first thing to run through my mind was "my family doesn't even live in WV!"...and then the second thing to run through my mind was "motherf*cker" as my jaw hit the top of my desk. This shit is "stright" up ridiculous.

I feel that I should pass along a couple gems from Petey Poo's profile:

#1 - Dear Petey, please meet the comma. Additionally, please say goodbye to the word 'and' (which I just learned you are only supposed to capitalize every other time you list something). "What Petey is doing with his life":

working for my future. and loving my job. And learning about everything. and other languages and cultures. And being in the best shape of my life.

#2 - Top 3 favorite things that Petey said "I'm really good at":

1. learning the Kalimba from Africa

2. learning the Native American sprit flute

3. Drinking water

I shit you not. He actually said he's really good at drinking water. We clearly would never work together considering when I read that for the first time I spit water all over my computer monitor.

---------------------------

I'm clearly lacking material for this blog so I'm considering responding. Thoughts? Opinions? Prescriptions for antipsychotics that I can pass along to him?

Big Hug and Kiss,

KatieBug

OK Cupid: The Saga Continues

2012-02-27T14:27:00.001-05:00

Poor Pete. I realized on Tuesday that I could not continue to let him believe that he would ever see me again. I thought of many different ways to communicate my message.

At first thought:
Petey-poo,
You did all the right things. You molested me on our first date, gave me a nickname, took yourself off the market, and stalked me via text and email. It burdens me to have to tell you that our love affair must come to a close. It appears we're looking for different things. I want an intelligent, non-psychotic man and it appears as though you want a girl with self-esteem so low that when you shove your tongue down her throat she translates that into real emotion and falls deeply in love with you.
With a heavy heart,
Katiebug
_________________________________________________________________

I realized that with the competence of a second grader he might mistake my sarcasm for true love and this could quickly take a turn into fatal attraction territory. My response was short, (not so) sweet, and to the point:

Pete,

This is much too forward for me. I don't think we're looking for the same things. Good luck on OKCupid.

-Katie
_________________________________________________________________

I did not expect a response. Who wants to respond to rejection? If I thought you were forward before, a response is DEFINITELY not going to reverse that feeling. Fortunately for you, Peter is committed to providing ongoing entertainment for my blog in the form of an email void of all spelling and grammatical rules. I present to you the explanation:

Katie your taking me way to literially. Iam sorry sweetheart let me explain. When i say i wanted you to come home with me of course i find you attractive and would like to ravish you who wouldn't. but iam a gentlemen and i can assure you nothing would have happen. More so than anything i didn't want you to drink and drive . I would had fed you show you my Cowboy gear and keep you safe and warm. believe me sex is not a problem for me what i want is a relationship with someone i enjoy and have common interest with. That's why i was kissing and hugging you because i like you. Remember when that girl came up to me a couple of times i think she was trying to hit on me but each time i would wrap my arms around and kiss you. and all she can say was that your pretty. and when you told me you have standards and wouldn't come home with me it did make me happy because i knew you were a woman i would like to be with because you have morals.

And about the slave thing lol. Wow what were you thinking naughty girl haha. I ment be my slave while still on the date just for a hour.

you know what i would have made you do ? i would have you to put your hand on me when we kiss. give me a big hug, slow dance with me,hold my hand. and other things to get you to show me affection. So when i texted you that night hoping you got home ok because i was worried.

and to tell you i had a great time you never replied. So i emailed you and i know i can be a bit blunt and strightforward with my words but that's just the easy,funloving,southern nature comming out. So i can understand how you might take it as being fresh and forward. So forgive for my choice of words. but you know what hurts my feelings? you let stew for 2 day not knowing if you got home ok. and you couldn't even tell me that you had a good time and you enjoyed spending time with me like i enjoyed you. that's what hurts the most because i really like you. i dont kiss and hug just anybody. but i guess i'll try to understand. so thanks for spending sat night with me. and i hope you find the man of your dreams. you'll make any guy a awesome girlfriend.

Big Hug and Kiss,

Peter

_________________________________________________________________

It's good to know that Petey-poo has taken a more formal approach to the email signing it Peter. I was completely unaware that "Big Hug and Kiss" was the new formal valediction. I'll have to update my signature block at work.

I was also unaware that his invitation to join him at home would entail being fed, seeing football memorabilia, and being kept "safe and warm". I'm not sure exactly what moment of the date I sent off an underfed, vulnerable, and frigid vibe but he certainly picked up on it. I mean, let's face it... he's pretty fantastic at picking up on vibes. When the girl next to me at the bar kept telling him how beautiful and adorable I was and how he should make out with me he read that as her hitting on him. Umm........... is that the new tactic? I should hit on guys by telling him to make out with other girls? WHERE WAS I DURING THE RISE OF THIS FLIRTING TECHNIQUE??

I will freely admit my inability to remember the simplest US and World History facts. History is not in my wheelhouse. However, I've seen enough TV and movies to understand the concept of slavery vs. sex slavery. Slavery never lasts for "a hour" nor does it involve slow dancing and showing affection. Of course my mind went to sex slavery. And, while I look damn good in black I'm not trying to get all dominatrix or submissive on a date, Peter peter pumpkin eater.

"That's what hurts the most because I really like you" should NEVER be a phrase uttered or written to the person with whom you just went on ONE date!! I'm sorry I managed to break your heart after 3.5 hours of my company. The takeaway is that HOLY SHIT I THINK I HAVE A SUPERPOWER. I never knew I could get a guy to fall in love with me that quickly. If this shit pans out I could TOTALLY be married with kids by age 30...which by the way is only 2 years 3 days away.

Will I be able to reign this power in? Will I continue to make everyone around me fall head over heels in love with me? Consequently, will I be spending a lot of time breaking hearts? Does my power work on people of the non-psychotic persuasion? Only time will tell.

All my love in a warm embrace with a light kiss on the forehead,
Katiebug

OkCupid

2012-02-20T14:30:00.000-05:00

I think I finally understand the name of the site...with the exception that they left off half the phrase. I think it stands for "OK, Cupid... where the f*ck are the normal people?"

This week I went out on a limb and went on 2 first dates. My DVR was mostly cleared off and I had nothing better to do so I figured "why not?!".

Date #1: Dan - a.k.a. Mr. "I'm so much cooler online"

Dan was a seemingly normal guy. In fact, when described on paper he was my Mr. Right. I was so sure of this guy that when emailing with him I informed two of my close friends to start bridesmaid dress shopping b/c he was Mr. Perfect. Dan is 32. He's Irish Catholic, comes from a large family, is an Army brat, loves board games, loves sports, is taller than me, and has season tickets to the Caps. What more could a girl ask for? Dan and I met at Backyard Grill on Wednesday for happy hour. The timeline:
5:00 - I arrive, order a beer, and hand the bartender my card
5:05 - Dan arrives and orders a beer
5:06 - The bartender asks if we're together and Dan replies "yes"
5:06-6:30 - Dan and I each have 2 beers and I ask normal first date questions showing a level of interest in his life
6:30 - Dan asks the bartender for a menu
6:35 - Dan asks me my first question -- what do I want to eat??
6:45-7:15 - Appetizers arrive and we each order our third beer
7:15 - I now know EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT DAN. I could write a 10 page paper on which board games he likes and which ones he doesn't like, every place he has lived, every place he has worked, how many siblings he has, where his sister is getting her PhD, why her sister transferred schools, which schools he has attended, which schools he has subsequently dropped out of, what recent certification he got at work, the size of his condo, his monthly mortgage payment, etc. etc. Dan could tell you that I have curly hair and like spinach-artichoke dip.
7:20 - I order water signaling that I'm done with this date
7:24 - Dan orders his 4th beer
7:25 - I pray that SOMETHING interesting/sad/horrific/noteworthy happens on the TV in front of us so there is something to talk about
7:30 - First bathroom break
7:40 - Finish my water and contemplate how on earth I will ever make this date end
7:45 - Dan orders his 5th beer
8:00 - I finally mention that I want to leave so I can put my nieces to bed
8:02 - We signal the bartender asking for the check
8:02-8:04 - The bartender asks if he should run the card he has (MINE!!!) and Dan and I enter into an annoyingly long period of silence where I have no idea what to say
8:05 - Dan asks to see the bill. Yes. He wants to see the bill. The bill that includes my 3 happy hour priced bud lights, his 4 bud lights and 1 fat tire, and the 2 appetizers of which he ate 90%
8:08 - We receive the bill and he mentions "Let's split it."
8:09 - I almost burst into tears realizing that I've put myself through 3 painful hours and not only am I not getting free booze for it, but I'm paying for some of his beers!
8:12 - I hightail it out of the restaurant, give him a hug, and hit the road

I didn't care that Dan showed no interest in me. I wasn't falling for his personality either. What I don't understand is WHY THE F*CK ARE YOU MAKING ME SIT HERE FOR 3+ HOURS WHEN YOU WANT TO KNOW ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT MY LIFE????? Let's cut our losses and move on.

Thursday came and went and I resolved that I would never hear from him again. Good riddance.

Friday @ 10:05 AM - Dan emails me. My jaw drops.
"Hello, Hope you are well here on the cusp of a 3 day weekend. It was nice chatting with you the other evening and thank you for offering to pay. Do you have any big weekend plans? I think they are suspecting some nasty weather on Sunday / Monday.

Take care,

Dan"

In the 1 minute it took you to type up 4 sentences you managed to come up with a question to ask me yet in the 3+ hours we sat at Backyard Grill you had virtually nothing?????

I wanted to respond and tell him my big weekend plans were never talking to him again but I've shown some restraint. Did he really have a nice time? Is he that clueless???? Ugh...men!

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Date #2: Pete - a.k.a. when shit got weird

Pete seemed like an average guy. His profile was lacking in content but our email exchange was fine and he was a fellow Cowboys fan so I figured I should give him a shot. Pete and I were supposed to go out on Friday night but timing was an issue and I postponed to Saturday night. The plan was to meet at 8:00 at Fast Eddie's in Fairfax. I was less than excited to drive out to Fairfax for the night when there are so many great options in Arlington, but I could deal.

I arrived at 8:00 to see Pete sitting at the bar. We did the awkward I'm-going-in-for-a-handshake-and-oh-shit-you-want-to-hug thing. Conversation flowed smoothly. He bought me a beer, we talked about bad date stories, he bought me another beer, we talked about work, he bought me a shot of Jameson, we talked about football, he bought me a Black Toothed Grin shot, we talked about spirituality. Things were fine with the exception that I was getting wasted. I had one of those days where no part of me was remotely hungry so I ate very little. On the way to the bar I (intelligently) stopped at 7-11 to get a Special K Meal Replacement bar. Those things fill you up... however they don't suck up almost any alcohol on a night of drinking. Pete closed the tab since we had decided to go play darts.

It was at this point where I realized Pete was just not my type. That should have been my cue to leave but alas I chose to "see it through". Pete is 36 and the Operations Manager of a Guitar Center. He talked about his love of music as a kid singing in the church choir and how singing helped him overcome his stuttering problem. Cute. Somehow that "directly" led to his dropping out of college to start a Metallica-like band called Jam Bone. Not cute. He had hair longer and curlier than mine, played gigs all over Texas, LA, and NYC, and presumably did a LOT of drugs. He talked about his drummer dying in a car wreck and how that made him "reconsider his choices" and get out of the music career. Since he still owns and drives a car I'm assuming the wreck was drug/alcohol related. He has since cut his hair but still has the arrogance of a "rocker" and wears 3x as many rings as I do.

Pete and I had another beer while playing darts and this beer completely tipped him over the edge of obnoxious PDA. He became "handsy" and wanted to make out every 5.5 seconds. Awkward. Karaoke had just started up and we both decided to sign up to sing something. Karaoke must touch his soul (or his penis) because it took his PDA to an all new level. We're talking full-on trying to molest me at a bar. Thank GOD they never called our names because his song choice's lyrics included:

"And there’s a storm that’s raging
Through my frozen heart tonight
I hear your name, in certain circles
And it always makes me smile
I spend my time,thinking about you
And it’s almost driving me wild"

Unfortunately they did call up a young black girl who was "feeling the pain and sorrow of Whitney's death" and chose to sing "I Will Always Love You" as a tribute. Not only did she sing the song, she consistently padded it with "I love you Whitney" and "RIP Whitney". I mentioned how I liked the song (WHICH OHMYGOD WAS THE WORST THING I COULD HAVE SAID) because Peter stood up, put out his hand, I put out my hand (in serious confusion), and 2.7 seconds later we were the only people on the dance floor slow dancing to emotional Whitney karaoke at a pool hall while he tried to run his fingers through my hair and make out with any surface on my cranium. I almost vomited. I challenge you to the question "Can shit get any weirder than this?????????"

After the emotional performance I decided to go and he walked me to my car trying the entire way to convince me to come home with him b/c he only lives 10 minutes away. Every time I said no he'd counter with "We don't have to do anything. We can just hang out for awhile."

***Men of the world: WOMEN ARE NOT F*CKING IDIOTS. WE WERE NOT BORN YESTERDAY. IT DOESN'T TAKE A SECRET DECODER RING TO FIGURE OUT THAT "HANG OUT" MEANS "HAVE SEX". Seriously. Get some game.***

Luckily I escaped after a few minutes of making out, went home, made a can of chef boyardee ravioli, made a bag of uncle ben's rice, and passed out.

Shit got weirder...
I awoke the next morning to a text he sent at 1:15 "Sweetheart, I hope you got home safe. Had so much fun with you. Big hugs and kisses, Pete". Things I don't want to wake up to after a night of drinking? Vomit-inducing texts.

I did not respond. What do you say to that???

Later in the afternoon when Rosie came over I began to outline the awkwardness of the date for her. When she asked to see a picture of him I pulled up OKCupid and looked for his profile. He deactivated it. CCCCCCCCRRRRRRREEEEEEPPPPPPYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!

And then shit got weird to an entirely new level...
Around 7:00 Sunday night I received the following email from him.
**DISCLAIMER: It's ridiculous, gross, awkward, and may make you feel nauseous. Grab a bucket.**

"Did you sleep in today? I know i did lol. Sweetheart iam sorry we drank so much since you had to drive. I should have insisted on you comming home

with me to sleep it off. But last night was fun and i hope we can spend some more time together soon. Hey don't think i forgot that remark about schooling me in pool. Were just gonna have to see about this lol. If you loose you have to be my slave for a hour. and if i loose iam your slave for a hour. But don't worry iam a good master.

I also wanted to tell that you are a good kisser and i like running my hand through you hair. and iam sure when you strighten it i'll like that too.

Sorry about being a little frisky with you last night. I wanted to take you home and ravish you but i respect and turned on that you didnt if that makes sense. but next if we drink too much you're stay with me no but's. Have a good monday Katiebug and looking forward to next time."

AREWEFUCKINGSERIOUS?????
#1 - did you drop out of college or 3rd grade grammar?
#2 - you're bringing up slavery like it's a good idea?
#3 - Katiebug?????????????????????????????????????????????????

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If you can identify the character trait in me that is attracting these douchetards, please let me in on the secret. Until then I'll continue to weed out the losers in hopes that one day I meet someone worthy of my time and attention.

Two.

2012-01-31T19:14:00.000-05:00

That's the type of diabetes I'm working toward. Today was rough. I got 3.5 hours of sleep last night, had to drive to Herndon WAY early this morning and sat in a long ass boring meeting for most of the day. I finally got to give my brief 1.5 hours behind schedule. The only difference between the movies where you see people in front of a firing squad and my brief is that I was wearing a business suit... oh yea, and I'm not a criminal. To add to the shitty day I've got hours of work to do tonight, I'm in desperate need of an oil change, and my car's right blinker and brake lamp decided to crap out at the same time. Yay!

Since I'm facing a mountain of work I decided that rather than drink my face off I'd take advantage of the nice weather and walk the half mile round trip to Randolph bakery. That's got to burn off at least one cupcake sprinkle. This is where the diabetes comes in. At 6:20 I leave my condo with my credit card in my pocket. Halfway there I realize I no longer feel the c.c. About face. Time to retrace my steps. Luckily, as I return to the parking lot I see it laying on the ground. About face again. It's MOTHEREFFING CUPCAKE TIME!!!!!!!!!! Well, much to my dismay, when I arrived at the bakery at 6:32 I see the closed sign and hours of operation. They closed at 6:30. 6:30. 6:30!! I legitimately almost lost my shit on the curb. Good thing the fat kid in me is determined b/c she pushed me 50 more steps up hill where I stopped at Starbucks and got 4 mini whoopie pies (holy crap I might sell my future babies these are so good AMIRITE?!?!) and a grande skinny cinnamon dolce latte.

F*cking Tuesdays.

Perks of living alone...and READER PARTICIPATION DAY!

2012-01-25T23:39:00.000-05:00

I'm posting tonight because Lauren asked me to return to the blogging world. Lies. That's one reason........... but mostly it's because I'm drunk. Today is the first ever reader participation day. I'm uploading a photo that should appear somewhere on the screen. It contains 3 items:

1. a bottle of red wine
2. my pants
3. a picture of Al Green

I'm new to this shit so hopefully the photo doesn't end up in some obscure place on the page thus beginning the game "Where in the World are Katie's pants?".

#1 - If you think that's the first time I (among others) have ever played that game you TOTALLY don't know me.
#2 - Your mission if you choose to accept it is to guess what I was doing tonight that somehow involved all 3 of these items.
#3 - If you win, you get bragging rights. No cash prize. No sexual favors.
#4 - Maybe sexual favors.
#5 - Woooooooooooo Wine Wednesday

You have approximately 24 hours to respond before I'll forget I even did this and you'll never know the answer.

Great Expectations

2011-12-22T23:32:00.000-05:00

...I told y'all I wasn't going to blog every day!!

The other day while wasting WAY too much of my work day perusing Pinterest, I came across the following quote:

"Sometime we expect more from others because we would be willing to do that much for them."

It hit me. It hit me like a ton of bricks. It has manifested itself in so many aspects of my life lately. I've been trying to devote more of my time to introspection and I find myself reciting this quote in my head over and over.

I think a lot of character traits are dual-hatted -- that is, both a blessing and a curse. One of my most prominent traits is that I am emotion-driven. I feel things to the core. I also have very high expectations for myself in my personal and professional life. Unfortunately, because I set the bar so high for myself I'm often setting it high for everyone around me as well. I expect things of them that I expect from myself. How often am I exceeding my own expectations? Very rarely. And, the same is true for others. The result is disappointment all around me and for someone who so often succumbs to her own emotions I get stuck in the disappointment. I think one of my major goals in the new year is to set realistic expectations based on history and personal behavior for myself and others.

I know that for me it will mean adjusting my expectations of coworkers in the workplace and compartmentalizing a number of relationships in my personal life. I know I'm not going to wake up one day and be able to think more clearly and "run" my life based more on logic and thought than on emotions. And, I don't want to change that about myself because it's not worth giving up the feelings of the high highs to avoid the low lows. I accept that I'll continue the ride on my emotional roller coaster of a life, but, as best I can I plan to lay the tracks in the direction of positive thoughts and feelings. It surely won't be easy but I'm looking forward to a more positive outlook...to celebrating and appreciating successes and victories instead of narrowing in on things that just don't measure up.

How about all of you? Do you struggle with aspects of your personality? Any "new year, new you" resolutions?

New Product Idea

2011-12-14T19:37:00.000-05:00

Two posts in one day? This is unheard of. No really. It won't happen again.

Every so often I come up with new ideas. They might be apps for the iPhone, ideas about starting a new company, or product ideas. This specific idea popped into my head 10 minutes ago after leaving the gym. I haven't spent much time thinking up names but for now I have the La-Z-Boy Spin Bike.

Let's be honest, there is NO need for the spin bikes at the gym to be SO freaking uncomfortable. We don't need the 6"x3" piece of hard plastic between our legs for aerodynamics. WE AREN'T ACTUALLY FREAKING MOVING. I am not Lance Armstrong. Neither are you. This is not the Tour de France. It's a dark sweat-filled room with bikes that figuratively attack your baby maker as your muscles burn to Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night". This is beginning to sound way too similar to the upstairs of most frat houses...sans bikes.

On to comfort. Why can't they make the bikes with larger cushioned seats? I might be able to cycle for 90 minutes if that were the case. Please don't get started on the "...but they have those gel cushions that go over the seats" or "real cyclists have padded cycle shorts". Real cyclists have bikes. I have a $40/month membership to Gold's and after a tough workout I'd rather not be thinking about how I can't decide whether I'd rather have a nasty case of syphilis or the ever-worsening burning of my hot pocket every single step I take. If I can't sit down to pee tomorrow I'm quitting my job and filing a patent. CAN I GET AN AMEN?!

-Lulu

First Dates

2011-12-14T11:47:00.000-05:00

Online dating is awkward. First dates are uncomfortable. 2 hour first dates that start at 5:30 p.m. where 75% of the duration of the date is spent trying to figure out what cartoon character your date sounds like are excruciating. Let me back up...

I decided that since no man was appearing in my cubicle at work or at my front door when I'm sitting pantsless on the couch drinking red wine and eating half a block of cheese I should make an attempt to "get out there and date". The bar scene is tough because I already think I'm hard of hearing and trying to talk over loud music and 397 other conversations going on at the bar is near impossible for me. Not to mention, I act like I'm 47 and bars aren't exactly packed with guys my age at 8:30 p.m. I figured I'd give internet dating a try. I was on and off of match for a couple years. Maybe I'll delve into that later. Since I was getting older I figured I'd lower my standards and try a free site...OKCupid. My fear with free sites always stemmed from the fact that any unemployed SOB could set up a profile. If it was a pay site he had to have a job or at least be good at conning people or panhandling for money. I set up my profile...and I was honest. I'm not a girly girl. I like sports. I'm smart. You should be too.

Enter Bill. Bill and I email over the span of a week and he's totally normal. In fact, he's better than normal. He has a job. He goes to church. As a dog owner he has the ability to keep another living thing alive. Aside from his average looks, Bill is Mr. Perfect to someone with low-average standards. He asks to take me out and I'm quick to say yes. Free booze? I'm in. He could send the dog as his proxy and if it came with a credit card and free booze I'd date the dog.

His plan quickly morphed from drinks to dinner. Ladies, DO NOT GO TO DINNER ON A BLIND DATE. It's a long period of time in which you have to make conversation, leave at least some semblance of food on your plate, not talk with your mouth full, and try to appear more interested in the conversation than your mouth-watering, delicious, holy-shit-this-rigatoni-dish-is-more-of-a-turn-on-than-seeing-Alexander-Skarsgard-as-Vampire-Eric-Northman-in-True-Blood-naked-in-front-of-me dinner. The date went as follows:

5:30 - Cursing drivers in Clarendon for being douchetards and taking up 2 parking spots with their stupid sports car.

5:35 - Arrive in front of Faccia Luna to see Bill holding 8 red roses with baby's breath for me. Bill makes eye contact for the first time.

5:35:30 - Vomit in my mouth.

5:35-5:45 - Awkward conversations with the hostess and waitress about my flowers that are now squished into the booth next to me trying to remain out of sight.

5:45 - Begin the hour of listening to Bill talk about software coding (in WAAAAAAAY too much detail), how he used to be the stock boy at Target, how a truck driver was killed on I-66, and dirty hippies (the only part of the conversation I was interested in).

6:00 - I catch Bill talking to my tits.

6:15 - I stab myself with a fork to make sure I haven't slipped into a coma.

6:30 - Rigatoni-induced orgasm.

6:45 - Bill pays for dinner, our plates are cleared, and I'm out of wine.

6:50 - Bill goes to the restroom.

6:52 - Bill returns from the restroom and makes eye contact for the second time.

6:55 - I exclaim that the restaurant is getting noisier and busier and I don't want to hold up a table. Bill looks to the front and tells me there is no line. Attempt to leave #1 thwarted.

7:00 - I bring up his dog, Bacon, and how he should probably head home to feed him and take him out to pee, assuming after 12 hours of being left alone Bacon hasn't already emptied the pantry and relieved himself over every square foot of the condo.

7:01 - Bill responds to the comment. I, with a lack of animal knowledge and a medium amount of autism knowledge from watching NBC's "Parenthood", decide he's on the low end of the animal abuser and autism spectra. Attempt to leave #2 failed.

7:10 - Having shown minimal interest in Bacon, Bill obviously asks the question: "So I take it you like dogs and hate terrorists?"

7:10:15 - My first thought: "...................................................................................."

7:10:30 - My second thought: "I also like vampires and hate gynecologists". Seriously??? One of these things is NOT like the other.

7:10:45 - My response: "I guessss you could say that"

7:11 - Bill tells me a graphic and detailed story about a group of dog hating terrorists that his twin brother watched blow up via a drone strike. In this story I learned about the rulings that came out of the Geneva Convention regarding missiles and that the dog that the terrorists hated lived...and was left to roam among terrorist body parts.

7:25 - I loved that rigatoni so much I almost "enjoyed" it a second time.

7:26 - I slide out of the booth mentioning that I don't want our waitress to lose out on tips and begin to walk to the door.

7:30 - We walk outside. Picture it... it's 7:30 pre-daylight savings time. It's twilight and we are standing in Clarendon, an area where the average adult probably makes $115,000/year. Rent controlled housing has never been nor will it ever be in their vocabulary.

I'm thinking I can make a clean break. He took the metro, which is 2 blocks south. I'm parked 2 blocks north. I'm free!! ...until he makes eye contact for the third time and says "It's kind of dark and creepy out. Can a creepy guy like me walk you to your car?"

Are we effing serious? First of all I'm the girl whose Mercury Mariner is parked in front of stores I can't even afford. If someone is getting robbed, it's not me! Not to mention, I have 8 thorny roses with which I can beat anyone who suspiciously approaches me.

7:35 - We arrive at my car and I quickly throw the flowers into the car because so help me God if any of my friends/coworkers were to see this I would never live it down.

7:36 - One hug and I'm out.

I spent the next week receiving two missed calls and voicemails asking how I was doing and if I wanted to get together again. I finally broke the news, via email, that I was "just not that into him".

My 2 takeaways from the date:
1. If I can survive that I can survive ANY first date.
2. He's the narwhal.

-Lulu

How to start??

2011-12-12T16:08:00.001-05:00

I've finally decided to create a blog. Namely it's a place for me to share, vent, wallow in, and celebrate being a 27 (almost 28...*vomit*) year old independent, single female. Let's get to the basics:

#1 - I will never INTEND to offend anyone...although I'm sure it will happen. My opinions and perspective on life are my own and should not be taken as me saying my life is any better, worse, harder, or easier than yours.

#2 - I won't blog every day. I know this. I don't even wash my hair every day.

#3 - This is going to get really boring if it's just me spouting off all the time. Stop being a creepy, silent internet stalker and comment. Give me something to write about.

#4 - If you are my friend I'll probably talk about you on here. Stop being interesting and you won't get talked about. It's really that simple.

That's it for now. Perhaps this thing will actually become interesting by the next post! :)

-Lulu