craigslist personals scare the hell out of me

I've never utilized the craigslist personals as they frighten me. This probably makes little sense - and I'm sure plenty of people have had good experiences using this service - but the bulletin board format intimidates me. It is a little harder to mock each other's profiles on other online dating sites (though, GOD, how I wish I could at times - and I'm talking to YOU, Mr. Shirtless Hairy NASCAR Fan). I do, however, read them out of morbid curiosity. And I read the rants and raves section for the occasional laugh.

There's a talented blogger in DC who has suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous dating misfortune a la craigslist personals and a particularly evil dating service called Its Just Lunch. With all the online dating resources, there is no need to shell out thousands of dollars to find a date, folks. Now, I might consider a yenta, but she'd have to be damn good. Currently, Velvet is mourning a man who lead her on, but she gives as good as she gets. Seriously, click on "gives", then "good", and then "gets" for a great story. Then click here to see a photo of the perp.

My self-imposed online dating hiatus has made it to Day 2, and my resolve is still firm.

interim template

I hope to have the old template back up sometime in the near future. Or, maybe I'll actually learn how to create my own for once. I'm home sick this morning, and there's nothing else to do...

dropping like flies (updated 3/4/06)

Another one of my favorite bloggers, Cultivating the Memories, has been quiet the last month, but she has pretty good reasons being a full time professional and single mom. Unf, she hasn't renewed her site registration, and the photos that accompany my blog are hosted on her site. Oops. As a result, I lack the kicky little sandals at the top of the page as well as the nifty little Whisky Pants logo we had going on. I've sent an SOS out and hope to have resolution shortly.

UPDATE - Chewy tells me that the server hosting her blog blew a fuse or something, and they are in the process of fixing it. So, in addition to getting the snazzy template back soon, we can also hope for more information from the lovely city of Detroit.

[Thanks, Chewy.]

trial separation

As previously mentioned, I'm taking a break from online dating as I am totally burned out. For how long? Well, that is a very good question considering my tendency to backslide. I'm thinking that I need four solid weeks at a minimum, and then I can reassess.

Whatever will I do with myself in the interim? Aside from my manic telenovela obsession? I'm thinking about getting to know my friends again, and maybe making some new ones. I've been wanting to learn how to knit (those do-it-yourself kits don't help explain casting on at all) so maybe I'll finally take one of those classes at Stitch. I think I will take a road trip up to NYC to see the Brooklyn Freckler and Alabama Slama towards the end of March (consider this fair warning, and mark your calendars girls). The Freckler's local is a darling little Scottish pub with darling little scots. And, like, an insane number of single malts on hand. The Slama has been dating some Irish guy for a couple months, and I need to make sure he's bona fide (from Oh Brother, Where Art Thou, "Vernon here's got a job. Vernon's got prospects. He's bona fide. What are you?") .

Also, I really have not gotten any quality time with the Multicultural Spitfire or her funny boyfriend, the Thirsty Bunny (neither of whom have any time to blog anymore), so I'd love to hang out with them. The Spitfire gets a little too serious every so often and I have a feeling she could use a night of frivolity. The Bunny has been working terrible hours - we must get him a new job - one that will allow him to blog every single day. He hasn't written since last April and it has been a terrible loss.

Work has been nuts for CamillaParkerBowles, too, and I hope to engage her in a little retail therapy sometime in the next few weeks. In addition to hitting our usual happy place of Off Fifth, I need some help in locating more little outfits for La Niece. That kid is too cute to be wearing crap from Target. Despite the drool and inability to keep food from getting in her hair. Now, why is it cute on her but not on the men I've been dating?

post 217; writing with a headache

The one-last-lothario date came and went with very little fanfare or drama. It consisted of a beverage each in a poshish hangout in Chinatown. I understand they have outstanding mini-burgers. We had a beer each, chatted for about a couple hours and then went our separate ways. He was a pleasant fellow, but probably a little disconcerted about my recent decision to stop online dating for a while as he noted that I had shut down my profile. Eh. Whatever.

It's been an excruciating Sunday. I awoke with a headache and no amount of aspirin will even make a dent in it. The high point of the day was the two hour finale of Bleak House on PBS.

i love my mom

She makes such lovely things. Here are the pillows she whipped up for me this past weekend. 

still recovering

I'm both exhausted and jonesing for more time with my nephew and niece. Both were adorable this past weekend. The Neph kept me awake at night (I slept in his trundle bed for two of the three nights - and he kept throwing his hand over the side and swatting me to make sure I was there, which was endearing and irritating all at the same time) and the Niece got me up early and kept me busy all day long. I hated to put her down or walk away from her. She's beautiful, willful and sweet. While watching teletubbies or playing with her little dollhouse (an extremely cute thing my mom picked up for her at Pottery Barn over Christmas), she would occasionally crawl up into my lap to get a hug. When her hair is wet, it lands more than halfway down her back. Which is insane on an 11 month old.

I told my brother-in-law that I would only be able to mate with an attractive Mexican so that I can be sure to have children as beautiful as his. Sometimes, I think I might want one of my own despite my fear of pain and morning sickness. He got all excited about that as he has particular ideas about how people should live (meaning, they should all get married and procreate - must be the latent catholic in him). I also explained to him that I was taking a break from dating (right after I meet this one last guy - seriously). He was disappointed about the lack of funny stories, but understands that there's no point if I'm not having fun.

My mom has been making the most gorgeous curtains and drapes for the new house. On Saturday, we went to the fabric shop to pick out the materials for the dining room window coverings and walked out with some fabric for me as well. Over the weekend, mamasan whipped up a curtain for my front door, two matching pillows with fringe and a lovely roll pillow out of the gorgeous fabric we picked out for the dining rooms cornices. The curtain is a little short, but I'm going to try lowering the rod and adding a fringe to make it work. We also recovered the seat of my desk chair (which had not been updated since high school). The place looks a little more put together.

Dad is doing well - playing golf at least twice a week since the weather has been mild. He did my taxes for me, cooked a couple wonderful meals, and explained sudoku. All in all, it was a wonderful trip, and I count the days till I can see them all again. 

this time i almost mean it

Every so often I decide that I'm tired of online dating and swear that I'm going to take a break. A week later, I'll be out on a date.

But I'm tired. It just isn't as fun anymore. I've fallen on my ass, been embarrassed by my date's grammar, and encountered guys with way more issues that I can manage. I need a rest and a chance to improve my attitude. Maybe take a class, get to know my friends again, actually spend time on work when I am at work instead of emailing these internet wannabe lotharios. So, that's it. I've shut down my online dating profile.

Except (you knew this was coming, right?), I've agreed to go out with one last lothario; another transplanted Midwesterner who has made it here via NYC. Nothing good will come of this. I talked with him tonight and he is just as jaded about this process as I am. My plan is to go visit the fam this weekend and come back ready for some adult debauchery. I'll get him good and drunk and we'll all just hope for the best (which, at this point, would be some nooky). Please send me some nooky karma.

need to up my game

Because I can't even begin to compare with the genius that is Bad News Hughes.

non ho capito (i don't understand)

Okay. Am I the only one not getting the whole point of the Winter Olympic's opening sequence? Was it Dante's Inferno? Which ring of hell do the Tree Men live in? What was up with the wiggling legs thing? And what about the skating cows???? And the waltzing couple dressed as cows??? Seriously, Italy. What are you on, and where can I get some?

Update 1: Please don't tell me that I missed Pavarotti. I think I did. Damn my telenovela addiction.

Update 2: I understand using the disco music to keep the crowd bumping along through the parade of awful winter fashion (Brazil, I'm talking to you), but it is a tad undignified. Then again, better than that awful europop during the opening sequence.

Update 3: Why are winter hats so ugly? I mean, I get why Canada was wearing the usual Strange Brew look, but yikes. Estonia did okay, but you really have to be twisted to screw up a knit cap. I need one of the US hats; I have the perfect hair for it.

Update 4: How does Bob Costas keep it together? He's quite a diplomat (he was incredibly generous during the skating cow sequence), but even he remarked on the seemingly random mix of bad 80's American pop music that is accompanying the parade of athletes. ("And what survey of American pop tunes would be complete without the Village People?" I love you, Bob; you make me slightly proud of being Midwestern.)

Update 5: The waving be-mittened Swedes - cute - but the yellow pants are killing me. What's up with that? Turkey, Turkey, Turkey - simply awful. I've seen better prison uniforms.

Update 6: Loving Italy's coats. They're not wearing hats and so look far more dignified and stylish than the other teams. But this is where I could use Steven Cojocaru instead of Bobby Costas - I need to know who designed their ensembles. Apparently, they're walking in to some famous (and really just awful) Italian pop song. I'd prefer reggaeton to this crap.

Random Observation 1: Canada totally needs to hire Cirque du Soleil (since they are based in Canada) to arrange their opener when they host. They should also pay me for having thought of that.

Update 7: And the Italians save the whole damn thing with brilliant pyrotechnics (best lighting of the flame in recent history) and Luciano Pavarotti (who would be so much hotter if he would just go grey).

And here commences my lusting after various Olympic athletes.

darling sexy boys

Isn't he pretty? This caballero is Fernando Colunga, and he portrays Don Luis on Alborada. He doth stirreth my loinsth.

I've checked out other photos he's taken, and the man is simply hottest in period costume/facial hair. Weird, but we all have our fantasies. Mine are simply elaborate as opposed to deviant. Apparently. Or sadly. Take your pick.

If any man out there is as guapo as Fernando, holla, yo. 

darling funny boys

Where do I get me one of these? I do love funny men.

Self-deprecating wit is so midwestern. Which would make you think it was also unsexy, but no, my friends. It is quite sexy.

tipping well may get you into heaven

I've linked to Waiterrant before, but am finally adding him to the blogroll. He doesn't post everday, but they're just so well done. Folks who don't tip well (15% and under) should read him. And they should tip better.

This post made me teary.

This one cheered me back up.

i need a personal reset button

First I go through a few weeks of not feeling well, and now a sinus infection. This is so not right.

At least work has been interesting. Also, to bolster my self-esteem, I signed up for match.com. I get tons of messages from seemingly normal guys, and some from really not-so-normal guys. Match allows you to send back immediate polite little thank-yous where you can click little boxes (such as age, distance, attraction, lifestyle, values, etc...) to let these guys know why you won't be responding. After going out with three rather nice but non-descript fellows the past month, that didn't go anywhere except 'splat' on the sidewalk, I must admit that I enjoy the "neg".

Don't get all pious on me. Some of these guys are really nasty and their missives so full of crap that the fully explained "neg" (checking all the damn boxes) is fully deserved.

Anyways, I've been completely captivated by another blog recently - this one is located in Richmond. La Guera Loca is actually living a telenovela. It is better than most telenovelas.

criticism sucks

The Alabama Slama decided to tell me, as one of my closest friends, that things have been slipping here at Whiskypants.

It isn't news to me, but not something I really needed to hear out loud.

Generally, my posts exist to keep you all up to speed on my life, which just happens to be some sort of hysterical Dante-esque seven-ring circus from hell. Full of gaseous, nose-hair-ridden cro-magnons who keep their catboxes in their kitchens, who decorate their homes with milk crates and plastic cups from sporting events. And who want to date me (why me???). These posts also include precious photos of my niece and nephew. [Any criticism of those posts will result in my posting deeply embarrassing personal secrets about the critic. You have been fairly warned. I am not above making shit up.]

Lately, life has been a little more quiet due to health reasons. Buuuuuuuuuut, I have a date (a first date - while the "fell on my ass" date guy has written again, he hasn't followed up to my response) set up for Saturday, though, so may have some new material for you on Sunday. Although, I really would prefer to have a nice time than have yet another astoundingly awful and screamingly funny story to tell. You know: not fall on my ass, not get robbed, not be subjected to various digestive ailments and possibly get to make out like teenagers. Seriously, God. I've been good (sans sex) for far too long, I let people merge on the highway, I yield to pedestrians, give up my seat on the metro to the decrepit, and I've really been trying to give up dropping the ole f bomb.

Can I get an "amen"?

UPDATE: The date was very disappointing. Awkward. Of course, what do I do when things are awkward? I make them more awkward. At least he went home quietly.