And we're puttin' it on wax / It's the new style...

My hilarious friend told me a hilarious story about going for her first bikini wax.  It was for Valentine's Day, and she'd been dumped on two previous VDs, so she wanted to make sure her new boyfriend knew how much he meant to her.  (Obviously, this is not my story!  I have yet to meet a guy who's worth scalping my bunny for.  And it's not like I'm some freakishly hairy Polack.  Kidding!  Love you!)  The next part gets gross; if you're a male, you probably want to stop reading now.

My friend (NOT ME) is sitting at work and realizes she just got her period.  But she's in an important meeting that she cannot leave.  She has to sit there for two hours, leaking.  Luckily, she had a sweater to tie around her waist to hide her pants.  She leaves work to go get waxed.  She's super mortified/nervous because not only does she have to get naked for a stranger, but she had to take her tampon out because she didn't want the waxer to know she had her period. 

So she starts sweating.  Down there.  Profusely.  She's so sweaty that the waxer tries to use powder, but it's no match for her oh my god am I getting my period all over the table as my legs are splayed out infront of this total stranger who is applying hot wax to my vagina perspiration.  The wax won't stick!  Waxer has to keep reapplying, but to no avail.  The whole thing took like three hours (not really), and then her boyfriend hurt himself surfing, so he didn't even get to appreciate her well-coiffed crotch.  But she didn't get dumped.  That's something?

The Low-Hanging Fruit

I decided I should maybe start taking more pictures of stuff for my blog.  This was the only thing I saw this week that made me get out my camera.  As you can see, I really shouldn't be getting my camera out anymore.  Taking pictures is for people who don't have photographic memories.  (Don't get all excited, it only helps me with spelling and dwelling on the past.) 

I am sorry if I seem like a total perv lately.  It should only get worse because I haven't even kissed anyone since December of 2009.   And no, I didn't eat the strawberry.

And since we're I'm getting pervy, here's what happens when you fall asleep at your friend's house and there are a bunch of jokesters around.  (I need to start designing extra-long chaise lounges before the rigormortis becomes permanent.)

Out of the Loop

Behold the new Sonicare toothbrush that runs on batteries and costs about $25.  You will giggle the first time you use it, but then you will be a true convert.  Apparently, there is an adjustment period, because I am having major drool issues and also sprayed my hair, neck, and even my feet with toothpaste this morning.  Stupid mouthbreathing while brushing my teeth! 

As for my shoes, ran in them again on Monday.  Still like them.  No squeaking this time.  They are springy when you walk, but not as much when you run.  This is probably obvious to most people, but not to me.  Also, DO NOT run on an uneven surface with these shoes.  Trail running would be an exercise in ankle rolling.  As long as you avoid potholes in the road, you'll be fine.  On Monday, as I was looking to the heavens, praying to Jah for a crossbreeze, I hit a bump in the road and almost went down.  So just pay attention and you should be fine.  Also, the springy sensation will make you run around more, when you should probably just walk.  An example of this would be if you are trying to re-install a hot water heater and you decide to run across your uneven lawn in the dark.  But hey, if your butt looks rounder and higher, it is worth it!

Okay, and I also need to know if the following is weird:  Once a week I splurge on an $8 sandwich for lunch outside of my classroom.  (Yeah, I know that part is weird.)  I sip Diet Dr. Pepper and read trashy magazines.  It is heaven.  Anyway, I'm reading the tramp manual that is Cosmo, and there is some article about 99 things you can do to a guy in bed.  And one of the suggestions--and this isn't a direct quote, but it's probably pretty close--was to wear a belt during doggie style so that your guy can pull on the belt for leverage.  Double You Tee Eff???  Isn't that a bit much, even for Cosmo?  What girl would come up with that tip?  Am I the only person who isn't doing this?  Is this a common practice these days?  Comment, please.

I do not like it THAT rough!

Took today off and had an MRI done on my neck.  It was sucky for many reasons.  It's like lying in a coffin, and even if you don't get claustrophobic, you can't help yourself when your neck is strapped into this giant donut from hell machine.  You cannot move, and this leads to your face itching like crazy.  And the best part is when you only have five minutes left, and they tell you that under no circumstance are you to swallow for the next five minutes.  Which makes your mouth instantly fill up with saliva. 

Also had a massage today with the Russian.  I think she chokes me on purpose.  I'm serious.  And she kneads my shoulder blades so hard that the entire massage table rocks to and fro and I get a little seasick.  But I am addicted to her massages--they're the best.  They are worth the thumb print bruises on my neck that look like hickeys.  And I love how every other massage therapist plays Enya and she plays really bad Soviet rock.  And when she likes the song she turns it way up and then the pain really begins in earnest. 

Work has been really bad this week.  The kids are being ridiculous.  I hardly ever write referrals and I wrote two yesterday.  So I figured a spicy tuna roll and a Chimay for Happy Hour were necessary after work yesterday.  But I'm not really comfortable going to bars alone.  At four o'clock in the afternoon.  But there were a buttload of people there.  Watched some Olympic hockey and texted so as to not look/feel like a loser.  Some guys were sitting next to me but weren't flirting with me.  I read the paper.  Texted my super outgoing BFF for moral support.  Then a tall hot guy sat down with the guys next to me!  Ordered another beer.   Cursed my shyness.   Reminded myself that my fun friend and I singlehandedly were responsible for almost getting a large portion of the Philadelphia Flyers organization thrown in the clink. 

And then curling came on.  This sport is so odd, so mesmerizing, that I think everyone in the bar started talking to the stranger next to them as soon as they recovered from the shock that this is an Olympic sport.  This guy is an Olympic athlete.  And he may want to get that thing on his mouth checked.

Source: Getty Images

So I am talking to the obnoxious friend who is super hilar.  He's from Boston so we spend 20 minutes cutting each other down. He is trying really hard, until I get up to run to the restroom and he notices I'm a good 8" taller than he is.  He loses interest.  Tall cute guy is wearing a tie.  I don't usually go for guys in ties, but maybe that is why I end up with bums?  "Ties in 2010" is this year's motto.  Maybe.  Neither guy can figure out why I'm smart and still a teacher.  I do not have an answer for this.  I decide I should leave.  They convince me to stay.  I say I have to go for an MRI in the morning and they want to hear about my accident.  Just so happens that their friends that show up ten minutes later are both attorneys.  So now I have a lawyer.  Who says that drinking alone at a bar in the daytime is unproductive?

Real Quick-Like

Update on the running shoes:  I wore them yesterday and ran a few miles.  Since I haven't gone yogging in the past month, it was especially torturous.  The shoes squeaked with every step, but that muffled the sound of my wheezing, which I see as a plus.  They were definitely cushy, but not springy.  And herein lies the problem.  I love running b/c it's such a battle with yourself to not stop after each step.  Springy shoes make it a little easier to keep going.  Shoes that are making it difficult by throwing off your balance a teeny bit are not the best thing motivation-wise.  I am sore today, and I usually don't get sore until two days after running, so maybe that means that they really, really work and I am totally effed tomorrow.

Pigtales

Just finished taking a shower at my neighbor's (not that one) house because my hot water heater is still broken.  I loved his shower because it only contained a bar of Irish Spring and a nail brush.  Nothing else.  So manly and cute.  And he tried to decorate his bathroom all by himself and he painted the walls a color that can only be described as vomitous and added a tile pattern to his shower to match the walls.  But his spartan approach to toiletries became annoying when I was looking for some lotion to put on after the shower.  While his shower is cute, guys like this are also annoying because then you can never borrow any of their stuff because you'll smell like a sailor or something.


I'm hanging out on his couch, watching him play video games, and there's a knock on the door and who should walk in but the ex.  I rolled my eyes, gave him a dirty look and left immediately.  So now my neighbor has to deal with explaining to him why I was wearing pj's and looked like I'd just gotten out of his shower. 

In other neighbor news, I thought I'd fill you in on the guy who knocked on my door and drunkenly demanded my number.  Some of you may remember one of my amazing fb updates about almost running over my neighbor one night because he was standing in the driveway in head-to-toe camo holding a crossbow.  (He later informed me it was just a bow.  Eff off, Squanto, I'll call it what I want.)  So it turns out that he is friends with one of my friends and they were over at his place for dinner and would I like to come over?  I was hungry so I went.  He was nice and even invited me to go hog hunting with him this past weekend.

Uhm, weekends (okay, Saturdays since I'm too tired to go out on Friday) are meant for cocktails three ways.  1. Some form of Ketel One in the form of a cocktail.  2.  Cute cocktail dresses.  3.  Girls hanging out always leads to sex stories, so it's tales, but you get my drift.  I will not freeze my ass off in the woods trying to kill something on a perfectly good Saturday night, but thanks for the offer.  Then it dawned on me that I should ask what we were having for dinner.  So yeah, what looked like fish was actually the wild pig he had killed the night I almost killed him.  Awesome.  I love when things come full circle.  So I had to eat it.  (I am not the biggest meat fan.)  And to make it that much more revolting, there was this huge, coarse black hair on it.  It was the poor pig's.  I threw up later.  Fer realz.

So while lying out today I had some epiphanies.  My first one is that VIP/Bottle Service is a bad idea.  Not that I'm always hanging out in the VIP room, but I really love anything that involves velvet ropes and exclusion.  The problem is that once you have the table, you don't have to stand in line to get drinks, and since there's a bottle right infront of you, and you weren't raised to waste other people's money, you need to drink up.  And then you're so comfortable sitting down you don't dance.  And then you're wasted.  Then sometimes you realize you're wasted and stop drinking, but since there is a full can of Red Bull right infront of you, you decide to drink the entire can even though it is already two in the morning.  And here's a pic of me having deep thoughts while hanging out with all my friends last night.  Gay bars are bad for the self esteem but good for never having to wait in line to use the ladies room.

Okay, I have to go to bed.  Will try to finish this tomorrow...

Why I'm an Idiot and Other News

There is no other news.  I am an idiot.  Here's why:

1.  I really enjoy deleting guys' numbers from my list of contacts.  It gives me an incredible sense of satisfaction and power.  It keeps me from making poor decisions late at night.  Usually.

I thought I had deleted Arrogant Guy's number after he hadn't called me within a week.  And with the computer guy's home and work numbers, my neighbor's number (more about that later), and the constant string of new numbers from my ex who is incapable of handling the responsibility of having a real phone, there were a bunch of unsaved, unfamiliar numbers popping up on my phone.  So the text that I got which had some lyric from a stupid song, and some stupid setiment written underneath said stupid lyric, must be from AG since I'm irresistible.  So when I wrote back some nerdy retorts (why can't I learn my lesson and BE NICE to guys?), it took me all of two replies to realize that now I was texting my ex.  Bad.  Very bad.  Because now he won't leave me alone even though I texted him that I thought he was a different guy.  The ex called me last night to see if he could crash on my couch because, through no fault of his own, he is currently homeless.  If I had just checked my contacts, and seen that I hadn't deleted AG's number, this could have all been avoided.

(from expatbrazil wordpress)

2.  Went out in Wilton Manors last night.  Now for those of you not in the no-no, this is like the east coast version of The Castro.  So I'm surrounded by gay men and no one is paying attention to me.  I get drunk.  I get bored.  I pick up my phone.  Decide to text my professor who lives in WM and say "Hey, I know you probably hate me but I'm down in WM.  Would like to see you now that I'm free from that awful school."  I figured he would have my number saved under "Super Needy Unhinged Thesis Student Don't Answer Under Any Circumstances."  I waited to hear back.  Got a text this morning from him asking "who is this??"  I suddenly realized that if he hadn't saved my number, I might look like a former student who was in love with him and finally wanted to let him know now that I'd graduated and it wouldn't be awkward.  Super fun!

More later.  The sun is shining for the first time in months; I'm headed to the beach.

It's Not Materialism if You're Working Out

For Valentine's Day I received a hot water heater leak all over my bathroom floor.  So romantic.  I am currently waiting for someone to call me about getting it to work for 3.5 more months until I move.  I will not buy a new one!  Even if it means that I cart me, my laundry, and my dishes to your house/shower for the next 3.5 months.  Stock up on some good shampoo, please.  I like Frederic Fekkai or Biolage.

Speaking of stocking up, here are some things you should buy if you're a girl:

1.  lululemon athletica Wunder Groove Crop Pants.  Yes, they are like $70 for sweat pants.  But you can find them for sale on the clearance rack sometimes.  If you have a huge ass, they will make it look firmer and smaller.  If you have a flat ass, they will make it look a little rounder and bigger.  And, they're reversible, so you get two pairs which makes paying full price more manageable.  Make sure you get the Wunder/Groove combo ones, because the material is better than just the Groove.  I didn't bother trying on the pants, because even if they say they're long, they never are.

2.  Reebok Easy Tone RUNNING Shoes.  Everyone has been freaking out about these walking shoes.  I hate to walk.  I am too impatient and competitive.  And even though I am on injured reserve for the next few months, I am thinking positive, so I bought the new running ones.  Perhaps it's only the placebo effect, but shoe stores can't keep the Easy Tones in-stock.  (My friend ordered them online and her order was refunded without explanation.)  Now, I have only walked around in them, but they definitely made me more aware of my posture.  They're like walking on marshmallows, not in the sense that they're cushy (they are), but that your balance keeps transferring from one marshmallow to the next.  I also got some inserts to help my back.  Without the insert, the ankles are too high and rub on my left ankle.  But, I've been running in really low Asics for the past two years, and that might be why they feel weird.  If you can't find them in the stores and have to order without trying them on, I would probably go half a size down if you are uncrippled and don't need orthotics. 

The best part about these shoes is that they are white with seafoam green accents.  I love seafoam green--it's very calming.  My toaster and coffee maker are seafoam green, and they make me happy whenever I look at them.  So happy in fact, that I am forsaking several books in order to fit them in my car when I move.  That way, when I'm living in my car, I can always enjoy my coffee and toast.  Sorry for the blurry picture; my camera sucks and was about to die.

I found out about these shoes on this fabulous blog that my friend told me about.  There is gross stuff about wanting to have babies, but the rest is HILARIOUS!  If you're a guy, you probably won't like it.  Here's the link:  Martinis or Diaper Genies Blog.

This Can't End Well...

I was just ensconced in my recliner (score from my parents' divorce), grading papers, and I see my neighbor saunter up to the front door.  First he shouts my name and then knocks.  I figure he wants to talk to me about my other neighbor's ridiculous new Jeep.  (I swear its tires are as large as my car and I will take pics soon to prove it.)  He wants my number.  I lived next to him for five years and he now asks me for my number?  At first, he's all friendly-like.  Saying he's having people over for dinner tonight, and would I like to come by for some dolphin?  And then he says I should have his number in case I ever need anything. 

[A little background on him before you go getting excited:  boat captain (duh), shorter than I (double duh), not really my type looks-wise (duh cubed).  When I first moved here he was hot, but had some girl with a kid living with him.  I thought it was nice of him to take care of someone else's kid, and he always got up really early for work so he may not be an alcoholic.]

Then I go to get my phone not realizing that now I will have to call him so that he will have my number.  I tell him that I usually don't do much on weeknights.  He takes this as a sign that I want to be asked to the Boat Show this weekend.  I am trying not to hyperventilate over the tactical errors I keep making.  I enter his number and call his phone.  He then wants to know if I'm still dating the ex.  I consider saying yes, but tell the truth.  He said that was good, because he didn't want to step on any toes.  F*ck f*ck f*ckity f*ck!  is all I can think at this point.  I say something about how it's getting late and I have to go to bed (it's 6:30), and shut the door.  My phone rings 30 seconds later.   I answer and he lets me know that he only called to make sure it was my number that came up on the phone.  Even though he had just left and I called it while he was standing there and it rang in his cellphone holster that was hooked to his jeans' waistband.  Oh yeah, you knew a cell phone holster would be involved.

So I'm already trying to think of excuses that won't make things awkward.  I already have the ex stalking me and leaving paintbrushes next to my car.  I don't need another stalker next door. 

Hot Dogs and Daps

Before I can tell you about hanging out with the Mob in Boca this weekend, I need to finish my date story.

So this guy describes himself as half mad-scientist, half political activist--it is nice to talk to someone on my side of the polictial spectrum for once.  He's pretty wealthy, but he seems to be fighting the good fight.  So speaking of fighting, the date itself was full of it.  He was extremely arrogant; I was combative in return.  He had me pegged as a country bumpkin who'd never heard of John Varvatos.  And he kept injecting sexual innuendo into each topic of conversation.  (His first email was of a video of Serge Gainesbourg that ends with his lady friend having an orgasm.  Of course I have never heard of ol' Serge.  Of course DH has, and starts yammering on about Serge's house and Francis Bacon when I tell him about this guy's first email.  The whole video thing was annoying, because if I mentioned anything sexual, arrogant guy would take it as a sign I was interested.  But if I ignore it, I'm an uptight Puritan.  DH thought the guy's hand was well-played because it took him a total of two texts and one email to bring up sex.  DH's male perspective is always right and always the exact opposite of what I'm thinking.)

So, back to my date.  Even though I'm being a bitch, I am enjoying the witty banter.  But if I were a guy, I'd be sick of me.  Or I'd be less arrogant.  But he doesn't let up, so neither do I.  He insists we go see a movie.  It was awful.  Some religious movie about angels going rogue and people turning into monsters.  He is touchy feely the entire date, and I'm wondering if he's going to kiss me.  Now, I have a very competent imagination; but try as I might, I cannot picture myself making out with him.  So I'm thinking this means I don't really like him, I only like talking politics with someone who's a fan of logic.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention he ate a HOT DOG during the movie.  !!!!  You don't eat a hot dog if you plan on kissing someone, right? 

I say I have to leave the movie and we walk out and neither of us can find our cars.  So now I'm stressed b/c I have to get up really early and it's going to take 20 mins. to get home.  The security guard drives us around and we find my car.  He hops in mine ("surprised it's not a Subaru, since all teachers drive Subarus"), and I drop him off at his car, which is surrounded by teenagers.  He gives me daps as he gets out of the car.  The end.

So I relay all of this to DH and inform him that Daps hasn't called.  I kick myself for being so combative.  Why can't I be nicer?  Why do I care?  He ate a hotdog?   DH says that right now Daps has other options that require less effort, and that he will re-enter the picture once his other options don't pan out.  And sure enough, Daps sent me a text tonight.  I didn't respond.  Thoughts?

What the Hell Kind of Parallel Van Halen Universe Do You Live In?

Okay, so I have a lot to catch you guys up on because my computer got a virus because its vapid owner was trying to click on a picture to see what kind of drugs Lindsay Lohan was on.  I had been wanting to write about this topic for the last few weeks, but kind of hoped more interesting things to talk about would come up.  But everything that keeps happening seems to revolve around this subject:  teacher fantasies.  This is all anyone wants to talk about lately.  Is it because everyone in Florida is completely depraved?  Be patient--I'll be jumping around a lot as I catch you up on the last two weeks.

When I went into work a few weeks ago to gloat about the Zizek book, my plan was foiled because my friend had had something bad happen in his family.   I even offered to let him have the book before I read it, but he said no.  He spent the weekend with members of his extended family and their spouses.  Two husbands wanted to talk to him about his teaching.  They asked if he ever did anything with his female students.  He replied that they were children, or something like that, and they were all, "yeah, but they're like 17, right?"  He was kind of insulted.  They didn't even work up to this topic.  Total strangers, the first thing out of their 30-something mouths was about underage sex.  (I swear, as soon as you read students' writing, you see how moronic and young they are.  Not hot.)

Well, then I had to tell DH (friend at work will now be called "DH" because he has the Delicate Hands of a young Asian female concert pianist) my little story.  I guess I had given my number to one of the professor's friends because he was tall with longish hair.  And this led to a textual exchange where he actually wrote:  "So, Mrs. Robinson, why are you a teacher?"  To which i replied:  "Not only did you just call me old, but you also implied that I was a pedophile."  Then he asked me out on a date in the next text.  Obvi I said no.  I said no like ten more times.  Then I got bored and decided to go meet him two Sundays ago.  But first we talked on the phone for an hour.  It's been awhile since I've talked to a guy on the phone for that long. *shakes it off*  He said that his first impression of my friend that night was that she seemed like a divorcée with a young son.  I said he was way off.  Then of course I had to ask what he thought of me.  He said a stripper.  I said that was fair since I was wearing a nightie out in public.  He said that he didn't even notice my dress!  (Lie?!)  All that he remembered was a big pile of black with a little blonde head peeking out.  !!!!  Maybe I will rethink the boxy jacket next time.  So now I go to meet him...

Things I Hate That Everyone Else Loves

A Message to You, Rudy: You Suck!

The only time I ever came close to being kicked out of someone's class in high school, was over this crappy movie.  I love sports movies: Rocky IV, Hoosiers, Hoop Dreams, Wildcats.  But this tripe cannot pass as  having any sort of redeeming cinematic qualities whatsoever.  First of all, just look at him--that stupid jacket which symbolizes how he has zero talent, zero athleticism, and is a zero because he only achieves his stupid dream through others' pity.

Rudy got to play for three seconds because they were already going to win and the coach and the ENTIRE STADIUM felt sorry for him.  That is sad--not inspiring.  Even Lucas was more of a hero than Rudy! 

I remember how pissed my teacher/coach got when I said that this movie was ridiculous.  Yes, I get it, Rudy plays only a small part and understands the value of hard/teamwork.  Bite me, you little hobbit twerp.  And you too, Rudy.  Maybe it'd be a bit more inspiring if they concentrated on the fact that he actually graduated from Notre Dame inspite of his dyslexia. (To be fair, I think this was a footnote during the closing credits.)  Or if he'd won the game for them.  But making a tackle that really doesn't even count for anything?  How anticlimactic.  Yes, so is life, but that is not why we watch sports movies.  We watch sports movies to feel that we can end the Cold War by pulling sleds and doing deadlifts with a wagon full of people.  We watch them to hope that when the ball comes to us, and the clock's  running out, we'll actually make the shot instead of throwing up an airball.  Any loser can toil away for years and finally get a pity call to get on the field because his presence doesn't matter in the least and people are sick of watching him be a desperate loser.  (This is called youth soccer, not an inspirational blockbuster.)

Is football season over yet?  ; )