the five pillars of superficial intelligence

A previous supervisor, and one helluva human being, used to regale the office with many witticisms. One of them was called The Five Pillars of Superficial Intelligence. My boss theorized that by demonstrating 1 or 2 pillars at any social event, one could be deemed an intellectual.

1. Say something in French.
2. Say something in Latin.
3. Use an historically correct date.
4. Use a mathematical equation.
5. Quote Shakespeare. (Correctly - see previous post.)

Pretty funny if you think about it...

*67

As I've told you all previously, online dating is a real crapshoot. I have a policy of not meeting with potential datees unless I've talked to them on the phone and made sure they're not batshit crazy.

Now, in the past, I have not used *67 to mask my caller identification. However, I suddenly decided to use it last week after one of my eHarmers asked me to call him. Talk about freaking foresight... He was a total whack-job. Unpleasant, confrontational, and strange. Seemed to be in search of someone with serious self-esteem issues. Told me that he was smarter than I am. And THEN, sends me a follow up message two days later asking me, "wherefore art thou?"...

Most of my friends out there know that this question (asked by Romeo regarding Juliet) means "why do you have to be a Capulet?", NOT "where are you?"

Fecking A. I am very nearly done with online dating.

i have a new favorite poet

My latest favorite amateur poet provided this haiku after I described my most recent romantic efforts. I think he has quite a future...

eHarmony speaks
Sends prospects almost daily.
Nay to hairy nose.

and also...

Oh, hapless blind date.
Beware this one's poison pen.
Your friends read her blog.

He also provided the following after a brief discussion of a good blog nom de plume:

Relentless blogger
Paints colorful word portraits.
Makes sport of people.

If he wasn't scared to date me before, he definitely will be now.

back-burnered

I've been remiss, and offer my apologies.

Last week I had an out-of-town guest and this week I've been swept up in a work exercise. This has meant two round-trips to the lovely Virginia Shenandoahs for lengthy meetings. The very worst moment took place this morning, when I had to get up a few minutes before 4 am in order to be on-site by 7 am (and I didn't get home till 8 pm this evening). For those of you who know me, yes, I'm pretty traumatized.

The upside to this version of white-collar torture is that the boss has acknowledged my hard work. So at least I've got that going for me. The downside is the mega set of designer luggage I'm sporting under my hazel eyes, rendering them pretty much unenchanting. Pooh.

I have thoughts about a future posting - concerning the use of "laundry lists" to screen potential dates. Your thoughts on the subject would be most appreciated.

Pumpkin time is tolling...

thank you baseball jesus!

The Bunny (who claims that he is unable to post due to myriad computer issues) and I got together at the DC local for some beer and baseball this evening. The Red Sox are in the midst of a three day series with St. Louis (in St. Louis), and St. Louis is finally showing them that they can play (see Bunny's point #3).

Yesterday, the Cards beat them 7-1, and today 9-2. Tomorrow? I have great hopes. I think that Baseball Jesus (see point #1 from the previous link) exists not only for the Red Sox - who freaking earned their World Series rings last October - but also to right wrongs. Lets face it: the Cards failed to perform and give the Red Sox the nailbiter of a series they deserved. Also, theres that whole saving face on home soil thing...

Funny part to the evening. The Bunny is ribbing me that Boston has won 7 world series, while St. Louis has only won 3. So, I call my dad to see if he knows the true number as three seems way off...

Dad - "Hello"

Me - "Hi, Daddy!"

Dad - Yes, I am. Maybe. Who is this?"

Me - "You're hilarious. How many WS's has STL won?"

Dad - "5. 4 or 5. Somewhere around there."

Me - "Thanks!"

Then we chat about other crap like the fact that Pujols should have gotten MVP last year but should get it this year. In the background, the Bunny is making fun of Pujol's name. Sad.

Boston will probably haul out all their best tomorrow, so I hope to catch the final game in this series, and I hope TMS (whose blog has been quiet due to a rather demanding work schedule right now and I am hopeful she will be able to add to it shortly) might be able to join us again.

proof that theres someone for everyone

I caught this darling missed connection on craigslistdc today. If I'm right, the Fartful Dodger has finally met his soulmate. Just please, God, don't let them reproduce. I don't think the ozone could stand it.

You were in front of me in line at the grocery store and let out a little
toot. The backwash smacked me in the face and nearly rolled me over....but I
held onto the old lady with the wig and managed to laugh. Wanna get together
sometime when I have gas, too?

virtual nose hair plucker

Ohmigodohmigodohmigod. This is not the sort of thing you want to be thinking about on a date.

nosehair portent - need peanut gallery feedback please!

This is, yet, another sign that I should take a break from dating.

I've been out on three dates now with a very nice guy. Tall, well-eduated, going places, reads good stuff (not just the damn Da Vinci Code - which is, by the way, NOT a great book but merely a fun beach read), but I've got some issues. Yeah. Shocker.

The problem is that I keep thinking about these relatively minor issues he has (nose hair, needs a pedicure badly) and realize that they should just be minor. But (and it is a big one) I keep seeing those looming nosehairs as he leans in to kiss me (and the kisses need a little work - bit too sloppy for me) and I just cringe. The more I think about it, the more my interest declines.

Once upon a time, I had a beau who could tell me if I needed to bleach the stache and who would let me groom his eyebrows. Obviously, he was way more metro than the current datee, and we were good friends. As a result, I wasn't insulted when he called me his little puertorican boy (which explains the little bottle of facial hair bleach under my sink).

Explaining my hygienic needs to a new beau - and one I'm not entirely convinced of - is impossible. Or is it? He's a nice guy. He thinks I'm beautiful; but this is a sensitive area. I'd really like to give him a good shot at this, but the nosehair has gotta go. Is there a nice way to relay this to him? In my family, we wait till Christmas and put electric nosehair trimmers in my dad and brother in law's stockings. I think the fourth date might be too soon for electric hair removal devices, but maybe I can talk him into getting a joint pedicure with me... (I sure as hell ain't touching his toenails.)

I was thinking that I could get very tipsy and then tell him. If you have better ideas please help! The looming nosehair is just making the insomnia worse.