i make small children cry

Chalk the lack of posting up to the holiday season and a heightened social schedule. Sorry. Promise to make up for it. Right about..... now:

Instead of fighting the Thanksgiving holiday crowds, I visited the fam over Veterans Day weekend (I got to combine the federal holiday with my compressed work schedule so made an extra long weekend of it - its pretty much the only reason to work for the federal government anymore). The fam had an early Thanksgiving dinner just for me, which was rilly nice. The visit did not go perfectly, however. I managed to scare my poor (not-yet-seven-year-old) nephew.

My 19 month old niece loves cuteoverload.com. We sit her up on the desk so she can kiss the monitor as we scroll through the photos. She screws up her precious little face and makes these little "oh!" sounds and then kisses about 80% of the photos of kittens/bunnies/puppies (not so much with photos of turtles and lizards - she's such a girl). While going through this daily ritual, the neph joined us and we found this particular set of photos: http://mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload/2006/09/love_pain.html

Since my sense of humor has gone mostly dark and twisted, I found the second photo pretty hilarious. The neph followed my lead and giggled as well, and then ran off to get his mother/my sister to show her. By the time he had returned with his mom he was crying. In the short time it took to locate her, the full horror of the photo dawned upon him and his sensitive little soul couldn't bear it. We tried to comfort him. "Oh, honey, the chick is fine. If the chick had been hurt they never would have posted that photo. I promise you!" He was nearly inconsolable and I felt awful. Like the Worst. Aunt. Ever.

That photo still makes me laugh out loud. I'm not entirely sure what it means to find this thing that is rather horrifying to the innocent so funny, but it can't be good.

On a completely different subject, what happens if I switch to the new blogger version? Bad stuff? I think C-Lo (the Circumlocutor) had a negative experience...

you know what is not fun?

Mammograms. They're not fun. I had my first yesterday and I still ache.

[I wonder if my brother-in-law will continue reading after that opener. Ha! How embarrassing is that, B??]

Anyway. Mr. Nerver had to cancel tonight due to illness - that worked out well as I am also not feeling so hot. A Sunday afternoon date has been made with Mr. eHarmer - we're going to do something artsy and possibly drinksy.

Also, I've been messaging back and forth with another very charming nerver and I think we're going to become drinking buddies... In fact, I'm halfway tempted to start an online site to help pair up singletons with other singletons who just want to make new friends and drink whisky. None of this awkward-built-up-expectations bullshit that continues to ruin our ability to make friends and enjoy each other. One of my continuing complaints about online dating is how disposable it feels - how it makes it so easy for us to throw away people after a single use/date. I want to be able to approach each person as a possible friend as a well as a possible romantic interest; to be able to like a person enough after determining there isn't any romantic interest that I would want them to be a part of my (ever diminishing) circle of friends. (And, if they're true and good, introduce them to other single women.)

As I get older I find it harder to make new friends. People get married, move away, have children and get busy with their own lives. Being a single person in the midst of all that can get lonely (and the holidays are particularly tough). Thus, instead of some damn awful "It's Just Brunch" or whatever, I envision the formation of something like "Its Most Likely Just Platonic, But At Least Expensive Single Malts Will Be Involved and You Will Actually Feel Relaxed Because Your Just Probably Making a New Friend." Isn't that beautiful? So much better than having to pay $1400 to meet a buncha boring schlubs.

Also, Chewy (of the currently defunct Watermelon Memories and the designer of the Whisky Pants blog) was in town today and we got lunch at the Museum of the American Indian. She is a doll! And very funny. I hope she comes to visit again and brings her cute baby so I can visit with them longer.

eat tums for candy (please)

I'm headed out for an extra long federal holiday weekend and prolly won't be given an opportunity to post while away. The Supremes are demanding little jerks, but I miss them.

Have you seen this darling little cartoon yet? I'm dedicating it to the old guys that work with me and eat too much roughage. Its been over six months and I'm still startled by old man gas (brazen, unembarrassed blasts of old man gas). I'd leave little rolls of rolaids or tums on their chairs, but they'd know it was me... Of course, I played the video while at work today, at a decent volume, and nearly hurt myself while laughing so maybe they think its okay to float air biscuits all day long. Why must they subject me to a daily fartfest? Do they think I can't hear them from 10 feet away? Jeebus.

Also, my sister tells me that my brother-in-law came home tonight and announced that he just can't stand reading the blog anymore - that it is just too embarrassing for him; he felt like he was reading someone's diary or something. Dude is funny!

how not to end a date

After a nice evening with Senor eHarm - after we had walked to the metro - he turned to me suddenly and stated, "So, now I have a crucial question to ask." Based on past experience, I was a little startled. What on earth would he ask?? Maybe "What is your opinion of cross-dressing?" or "What was your name again?"

Instead, he asked, "Would you like to go out again?"

The evening went well and I was very relieved that I wasn't asked anything freaky deaky, so of course I said yes. And then, as he pulled out his business card and a pen, I heard my train in the distance. I don't know about anyone else, but the metro elicits a very strong - perhaps Pavlovian - response in me. When I hear train sounds and see blinking lights, I want to hustle to the platform. (No, the metro does NOT make me salivate. Jerks.) It was late on a Friday night and only god knew when the next train would be coming along. I proceeded to feel very anxious. He mumbled something about his private email address as he wrote down his other phone numbers on his card. All I could say was, "Um, the train is coming." [Sofa. King.]

He handed me his card, I did the quick air kiss thing (told you I wasn't going to kiss on the first date and, by golly, at least I kept my word for once), and literally dashed down the escalator and onto the waiting train. Right after I sat down it occurred to me how it must have appeared to my date; to a guy who had just mustered the courage to ask one of dating's most dangerous questions in person (as opposed to wussing out like the rest of us and asking via email or text message). The pobrecito had already told me that other women had replied "Yeah, sure I'll go out again," only to pull a fade away, and I had just said "Yes, " and then ran away. In heels.

Brilliant. Vintage Whisky, my friends.

So, when I got home I emailed him to let him know what a nice time I had and that I was sincere about wanting to go out again. I explained that the train awakens in me what must be a rather primeval response. [My inner psychoanalyst begs to differ. I hate her.]

He replied today, and said he completely understood and we're to go out after my long weekend at home. So, Mr. Friday Night ended up being more fun and interesting than I thought he would be...

Now, I'm not so sure about my date on Saturday. He was quite tall and cute, but I think we lacked having enough in common. And I think we both knew it. Despite this, he had the grace to send a nice follow-up message today. I doubt we'll go out again.

It is a relief to not have something negative to say about these guys. Perhaps my luck has begun to turn. Rather slowly; like a goddamn aircraft carrier. Transportation metaphors really suck.

7 more nights...

...Till I get to hang out with the world's cutest trick-or-treater!

Behold Supreme Niece in all her Fairie Glory! (Or is it "glorie"? Ye olde englishe is soe confuse-ing.) 

nothing good can come of this

I have dates scheduled with an eHarmer and a Nerver this weekend. The eHarmer (Friday night) seems a little stiff, but nice. He's definitely a bit done with online dating having had little success with eHarm (shocker). I so sympathize with him. The Nerver (Saturday night) seems a tad more fun. We'll see. I'm altering my game a bit this time; I'm going to get them drunk and see if they want to kiss me (as opposed to jumping right into the kissing). Then, I'm going to hold out on the kissing till the second date. Of course, I'll be super-pissed if there's no second date since I haven't had the sex in about 85 days or something and it would really be nice if one of these guys decided I was appealing and that I found appealing enough that I might want to have the sex with them. That would just be grand.

Knowing me, it will all be quite disappointing. It will be awkward and I'll probably put my foot in my mouth, but not really mind because the guy is kind of irritating and has excessive nose hair. Perhaps it will be funny, or at least amusing at my expense. Kindly send me a little good karma this weekend if you have any to spare.

Last night was fun. Had a xanax, a glass of wine and joined my neighbors to hand out candy. I dressed up as a bitter spinster - wore an oversized tee, some pajama bottoms, a glass of wine and an attitude. As usual, we had quite a few uncostumed teenagers and several adults asking for treats. Is this an urban thing? While we always had teenagers in the burbs, I never ever experienced an adult asking for candy till I moved here. One woman was bold enough to go trick-or-treating without any kids or costume - asking for two pieces as she had "twins at home". Rather than risk having her defecate on our doorsteps, we obliged and gave her candy. Two pieces, mind you, as she was quite insistent. At one point, a horde of teen boys ran up the street with several dozens of eggs, shouting something about meeting up at 13th and C. I don't know who got hit, but thank Gawd it wasn't me.