Single? Not for long!

I have always detested the dating scene. The old me thought thought nothing worse of getting to know someone ... small talk, awkward silences .... after a recent conversation about men and relationships over lunch with my BFF, I'm confident that as long as I stick with a few proven success strategies, I'll be breaking hearts all over the city.

Now, I've actually been told a number of times that I am a fabulous conversationalist ... and I think this rings especially true for dates as I always make a point to talk about interesting topics. Mostly I talk about myself. I tell my date about my intense dieting regimen and explain how I know I could stand to lose a few pounds, and then I ask him if my jeans make me look fat. I find that men like to participate in the conversation so I've learned to ask good questions. Sometimes, of course, I ask my companion questions about himself. Some of my favorites are: "How much money do you make?" "What kind of car do you drive?" and "Do you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and savior?"

When a guy first comes to my house, I will be sure to dress my guinea pig up in her finest because I want to make a good impression. I would spend most of the time talking to my piggie in a baby voice and let her kiss me right on the mouth because I know how important it is to men to find someone who will be a good mother. Sometimes, for effect, I may pretend to breast feed her. I think that would really get the point across: Look at me! I am totally maternal and super fertile!




When I first go to the guy's house, I will always bring a little something and show I wasn't raised in a barn. For example, if I dated a Jewish guy I would bring him a large ham and a crucifix. Or if I I dated a divorced man, I'd bring him a copy of the best selling book "Why Divorce is a Huge Sin and You're Gonna Rot in Hell."

I love going out to eat on dates and I almost always spill on myself. I think men find it really attractive. Usually it's beverages - I can't tell you how many times I've missed my mouth and sent Jack Daniels on the rocks straight onto my lap. Sometimes it's food, though: last night as I was eating dinner, I dropped a little feta creamy dressing down my heaving cleavage. As I was digging in my boobs to remove the cheese, a male friend of mine walked up. I could tell he found me so hot in that exact moment. There is nothing that says "sexy" quite like cream-covered-titties. (actually that's probably true)

When things progress physically on a first date, I always, ALWAYS pretend like I'll put out and then at the very last second I don't. I think it makes men respect me. It says "Um, actually, I'm not putting out. Almost, but not quite! Look at how respectable I am!"

What more could a guy ask for?

When you gotta go....

This is a fucking gem.

Place: Shanda's BBQ - Summer 2006

Setting: All of us getting shit-faced in the backyard when Dustin (a.k.a. Dizzle, Dizzy-D, Blabbs McGee, Schnizzler, Twizzle Sticks and most recently Digger) decides to use the pisser ... which faces the backyard and has see through blinds. Hilarity ensues.

This video was taken AFTER he spend a solid 10-12 minutes looking in the mirror, flexing his big "man" muscles, checking out his ass while he was draining the main vein ... afterwards he proceeded to inspect his nostrils for snowflakes, clean out his ears, fix his hair, unbutton his shirt a few notches (you know, for the ladies) then point at his reflection in the mirror and wink ... all while we watched and busted guts laughing.

Oh, and he didn't wash his hands.

Peace.

P.S. For a little background on Dusty click here.

It's more about the "beats" than the "bells" ... per se

My sister just got married. Congratulations A & C. It was the best wedding I have ever attended - and I'm not just saying that. EVER.

Me on the other hand was never was the kind of girl to dream about her wedding growing up. Now that I am at the over-the-hill, I still do not dream of my future wedding. And no, it's not because I don't have a boyfriend right now. I HAD boyfriend and I can honestly say that I just I wasn't feelin' the wedding thang.

There is one thing that I do think about, and that is the song I will dance to with my future husband. Song choice is critical to me. It dictates who you are as a couple. Pick something too sentimental and people will laugh. Pick something too edgy, and well, people will laugh. (And by people, I mean me). The song could potentially be more important to me than the sacrament of marriage itself. I'm totally serial. I'd get married just for the song ... okay, and the money.

Even though I am unsure at this point who my respective spouse will be, my #1 choice is "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls. "No Butterfly Kisses" or "This I Promise You" by N'Sync. ......(although "Givin' Up the Nappy Dugout" by Ice Cube is still in the running).

Now my friend got married in 2004 (she's my age). Considering she has been blessed with a friend with stellar musical taste (me) you would think she had plenty of good solid choices or at least someone to consult.

Right?

Wrong.

She danced with her husband.....wait for it..... yeah. "Heaven" by Bryan Adams. HEAVEN!! Now don't get me wrong, I love me a little Summer of '69 and Cuts Like a Knife, but come on. My innocence is lost. I can never appreciate the greatness that is Robin Hood Prince of Thieves again--

Oh. But wait.

It gets better.

Guess what song she danced to with her dad.

Seriously. Guess.

Give up?

"The Circle of Life" by Elton John.

[crickets]


Now although I was a "mature woman" at the time, you don't know how difficult it was to restrain myself from interrupting the whole thing with the Hakuna Matada dance. Really really really REALLY restrain myself. Like Hannibal Lector in that freaky looking mask restrained.

Is there a lesson to be learned from all this? Hmmm tough call, but I would say the lesson is that my dear friend has absolutely no taste in music and her husband has no balls.

On a brighter note, her wedding was one of the first times I ever barfed out of my nose, so for that, I will always be grateful.

Golf Pro's and Evil Ho's

I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to my dude for my complete and utter temper tantrum on the golf course Sunday morning. The only excuse I can offer is, "PMS and golf do not mix." .... I was also horrifically hung-over.

It's just that I was at the end of my rope considering I spent a the better part of Saturday sitting in his living room with the blinds closed watching him play Wii. (I could only watch as I was suffering from minor shoulder dislocation thanks to NFL 08).

He also called me evil in the car on the way to the golf course then tried to be my friend.

Despite the rough patches, he later admitted he thought it was hilarious when I warned the foursome who were patiently waiting behind us "I wouldn't stand behind me if I were you, this fucking ball might go backwards."

So, contrary to my mantra the entire nine holes, which was something to the effect of "Hating this fucking game", I am not "Never playing this stupid game again." ... because I do love me some mini-golf.