Tuesday, January 27, 2009

I Pee Freely

Another first!  Possibly the first first of 2009!

This weekend, I was in the bathroom at BB's, peeing.  I have the bladder of a small to average sized chipmunk, so I pee a lot.  Apparently, he got tired of me being in there so much and just came in while I was mid-pee.  Normally, I would have said "Get Out!  I'm peeing! Jerk!" but I didn't bother.  For some reason, it didn't phase me (yes, I was sober).   About five minutes later, when I had to pee again (a slight exaggeration, but not by much) I left the door mostly open. BB came in and out and we just kept up our conversation the whole time.  I was very careful not to accidentally let out a little fart though.  They echo in the toilet.  

(Too much information?  Whatever.  You know you giggled.)

Honestly, I lived with PRex for 3 years and I can't really remember ever freely peeing like that in front of him.  I'm sure it happened, but it was so long ago.  I was  a lot more modest and way more embarrassed about of my body back then.  Not so much anymore.  Clearly.

I told this story to Kiwi and she said "What?!  That's what married people do, not what people who are not-dating do!"  Point Kiwi.  

She's right.  You have to be pretty damn comfortable with someone to be able to pee in front of them.  Granted, he has farted in front of me since about day 3 - and likes to make them long and loud (like any self-respecting 17 year old).  He does however, make it a point to aim them away from me (so sweet).  

The peeing thing validates something that I have been suspecting for a couple months: our non-dating relationship has really taken on a decidedly regular dating relationship hue.  Last week, we had no plans.  He was working Sunday morning and had plans in the big City with friends afterward.  I had school work and taking care of Dad... But, at about 3pm on Sunday when he should have been totally spent, we made plans for dinner and a movie.  And it was just that - dinner and a movie (Yes Man, the movie that inspired my Mexico trip).  We parted ways, each to our separate (and cold) beds.  Its still a mystery to me - he's a self-diagnosed introvert and had already had his daily quota of people time.  Yet, he was still eager to see me.  And there was no sex, or even possibility of sex.  I think its possible that he might have just needed a little bit of Susan-time.  9 out of 10 of my closest friends agree - Susan-time kicks ass.  

(I ran out of money before I could pay the 10th person to lie)

This week too, there were several examples of this new hue.  I'm not going to bore you with them now (maybe tomorrow) but it appears that he is leaning on me more and more.  I sure make it easy on him, but I'm not playing a game.  I don't think that if I make myself the center of his universe, he's going to want to marry me.  The hospital is the center of his universe; and occasionally Taco Bell too.  But there has been a subtle shift.  I'm not sure why or what it means, and I'm frankly too chicken to bring it up because things with him are just so nice right now.  I don't want to spoil it.

So much for being a mature adult with good communication skills.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Saying Yes

I am scared of change.  I am scared of new things and of the unknown.  But I keep it under wraps.  Most people that know me think that I am an adventurer: the road trips, the whitewater kayking, the mountain biking...  But its all mostly local and pretty safe.  I'm not rafting down the Amazon and clashing with tribesmen or anything.  But its perceieved by others as adventurous and out of the ordinary.  The out of the ordinary part is actually just that I'm in my 30's and don't have kids!  Your own personal definition of adventure changes considerably when you have to arrange three weeks in advance just to go out to dinner and a movie, sans children. 

The fear of the unknown has only gotten worse as I have gotten older.  Friday night, I opted for a tried and true restaurant instead of taking a chance on a new one that was highly recommended (but likely overpriced).  Saturday, I checked out a new bar (hesitantly) and looked like a complete ass because we stepped in the door and I just stopped, feeling kind of overwhelmed.  Where is the bar?  Is that the bar?  Should we sit at the bar?  What about a table? Is that table in the bar, or in the restaurant part?  Is there a waiter/waitress?  Do I have to go to the bar?  The host actually said "you look lost."  Yeah.  More than you know buddy.

(ps.  the new bar was a great choice as we got a cool little table in front of a little tv screen and got them to change it from basketball to the Miss America pageant.  Of course, there was no sound, or captions, but just being able to make rude comments about the girls based purely on their awful dresses and spaced out smiles was awesome)

I so want to be the type of person that can backpack through Cambodia, kayak down the Nile, eat insects in Patagonia (ok, well, only if they are vegetarian insects) and join the Peace Corps when I get tired of my current gig.  But its really not me.  I like it when people speak my language.  I like western medicine.  I like water I don't have to sterilize.  I like knowing where I'll be sleeping that night (and it better have 400 count sheets, thank you very much).  And I really like knowing what exactly is in my food.  Really.

So when my friend  Fro (who is an actual adventurer) asked if I wanted to wander around the Yucatan Peninsula with her this spring, I was caught between my two personalities: Susan the Adventurer and All-Inclusive Susan.  Of course I want to careen down a hillside in a bus filled with chickens and goats.  Of course I want to camp and snorkel in a Mexican National Park.  Of course I want to go to Belize.  Of course I want to dance and flirt with swarthy men.  Of course I am terrified of being robbed and kidnapped.  Of course I am terrified of accidentally eating chicken or fish.  Of course I am terrified of Montezuma's revenge (seriously terrified of that one).  Of course I am terrified of just "seeing where we end up" (dead.  in a hole somewhere).

I thought about it.  And thought about it.  And said yes in my head.  And said no in my head.  And then yes again.  Then my pregnant friends who have no chance of escaping to Mexico for at least 18-20 years berated me.  Then I berated myself.  Then I saw the movie "Yes Man."  Then, I booked my ticket.

(the movie truly pushed me over the edge.  Thank you Jim Carey)

Yup.  I booked my ticket.  I leave in late March and will spend 10 days wandering about with Fro, who is well versed at wandering about strange countries and speaks at least enough Spanish to get by (I only know how to ask for a beer and the bathroom).  I'm hoping to be able to stay calm and collected and not turn into an anxiety-ridden bitch from hell.  Well, if I do, I hear there's lots of tequila there.  Then at least I can be a drunk anxiety-ridden bitch from hell.

Now that the hard part is over - the decision has been made, the ticket has been booked, I lose a considerable sum of cash if I turn back - I'm starting to get excited.  I swung by Borders today and got a travel guide, which I'm hoping will say "it is totally safe for two blonde, female Americans to flit about Mexico as they please."  What do you think the chances of that are?

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

The least interesting blog ever

First, January 1 rolled around and my life wasn't instantly changed when my head finally lifted from my pillow, and I wiped the drool from my cheek.  I was disappointed, but it was understandable.  I mean, Bush was still in office and all.

But today, the first full day of the new Obama administration, I woke up, wiped off the drool, and... Oh yeah.  Nothing changed.  Its still freaking cold outside, my neighbors still beep their horn every single morning at 6:30 and I still have bad attitude about just about everything.  

What's that you say?  Change doesn't just happen?  I have to make it happen for myself? Whatchu talkin' bout?

I know that I need to shake things up a bit to pull out of this.  But seriously folks, if you haven't noticed, I'm bad at shaking things up.  Same job (10 years in February), same house (9 years this past November), same car, same tv, same colecovision...  Christ.  I haven't even changed the photos in my photo frames - same pictures I've had since high school and college smile down at me every night.

Wow - I just really looked at the pictures.  Its almost embarrassing.  I think I'm going to have to start there and work my way up to the big changes.  Like taking banjo lessons.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Change, Relief and Doubt

You don't need me to tell you that today was a historic day that will have a profound effect on all of us.  But I will anyway.

We will no longer be able to make jokes at George W. Bush's expense every morning at the water cooler.  How will we possibly fill our time?  With work?  Jeez.  That's not a change I need.

Hopefully though, the W. Quote a Day calendars will continue to be released every year so we can all remember how lucky we are that those 8 dark years are finally over.  

Work set up the projector in the auditorium so that we could watch the inauguration over lunch.  Obama's speech was great, but I don't know how it will rank in the grand scheme of all inauguration speeches.  While it was a nice speech, it didn't light a candle to the benediction by Reverend Lowery, who was a civil rights leader in the 60's and perhaps, one of the oldest rappers... "Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen."

Amen brother!  I am white and I will embrace what is right (I mean, left)!  I don't know about the yellow being mellow though.  I'll have to ask some of my Asian friends.

ABC news just told me that there were no arrests on the Mall.  And I haven't heard of anyone getting snuffed out from the cold.  Damn good day.  A damn good day that I've waited for for a long time.  I'm relieved that it is finally here and can't wait for Obama and his team to start to put things straight.  But I know its going to be a long difficult road.  Its going to take a long time to undo what 8 years of the Bush administration.  And I hope that people can hold on, do their part, and keep the hope alive.  The guy can do it, but its going to take years.

And, if you got to watch any of the ceremonies today, you might have noticed that Obama wasn't shivering.  The dude was totally wearing mantyhose.

Monday, January 19, 2009

He's got Leggs

The next time you are in the throes of a make-out session, in the cold depressing days of winter, and find something a little unusual under your man's pants, don't panic.  It could just be Mantyhose.

I love it when men's companies finally catch on and tuff up women's products to market to men. First, there was the Bro, then there was the ManBag, now, pantyhose for men.  Such a simple concept - why deny men the opportunity to lay on the bed and wiggle around at 6am in a desperate attempt to get sheer nylon over big calves and big thighs without ripping it?   Equality has finally come! In the form of pantyhose!  The Change we Need is finally here!

(I wonder if Obama is going to sport a sexy little pair of Mantyhose tomorrow for the inauguration speech?  I'm sure Dick Cheney will be!  Mmm...sexy.)

I once had a boyfriend that always, always, always wore polypropylene shirts and long johns under his real clothes.  Even when it wasn't really that cold out.  It made getting naked really challenging.  And he would always make a joke about his pantaloons as he was taking them off, which would kinda spoil the mood for me.  As you might imagine, he didn't last very long.  But mostly because of his suspected prescription drug habit and irrational behavior, not because of the quasi pantyhose.  But I digress...

I'm a modern girl.  I can understand the need for men's hosiery.  I like a man who can pull off a good pair of man clogs.  And a skirt.  So, men of the world, I say, wear pantyhose without fear! Enjoy the warmth!  Enjoy the circulatory benefit!  But know, that they look best with a nice pair of spike heels.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Ahoy, Desperate Matey!

Sailboat randomly emailed me last week.  If you remember, Sailboat was an eHarmony match who I likely would have gone out with, except that my first phone conversation with him was awkward and forced.  After that, I just didn't feel like going through the motions and we lost touch.  And when I say "lost touch" I actually mean that I stopped emailing him and never responded to that last text message (that didn't necessarily require a response).

This is what his email had to say (and I quote):  "Hey!  I was cleaning out my inbox (it's a little full!) and came across this.  Thought I would drop you a line and see what's up.  SO?"

What else did he say, you ask?

Absolutely nothing.  That was the entire email.  What a riot.  I believe the "this" he is referring to was an email chain from April.  It was a long email chain.  One of those long getting to know you deals, where you think that just maybe, the kid might be interesting enough to leave the house for on a Friday night.  (Not the case, as it turns out).

But what really cracks me up is how it ends with "SO?"  SO.  IN CAPS.  In your head, it should sound like "SSSSSSOOOOOOOOO?"  I think SO means "SOOOO, if you aren't seeing anyone right now, it would be like, really cool if you could come over and we could get naked."

Seriously, Sailboat blew it.  Because, if his email said something along the lines of "Hey!  I found these old emails while I was cleaning out my inbox.  I regretted that we never got a chance to meet and hang out.  I'm sure you have met someone by now, but on the off chance that you haven't, it would be nice to meet you.  I think we would have fun."

Ok, well, maybe I wouldn't have responded to something that cheesy and desperate either.  

I was tempted to write back and say "SOOOOO... What?" but its been 3 or 4 days.  Probably not worth it at this point.  But I'm still extremely curious to see what riveting things he would say next...

Friday, January 16, 2009

January Wine Night

I'm slightly buzzed off of 6 different varieties of Chianti.

Tonight was wine club night.  I'm not really a member of "wine club."  (I have my own personal whine club though!  If you are reading this, you are a member of that one.  sorry)  I'm a semi-occasional participant in wine club (what happens in wine club, stays in wine club).  One of the reasons that I only make it to wine club every once in a while is because the people at wine club are exceptionally and unreasonably annoying. And I have to be in a certain frame of mind to be able to deal.

Not all the people are exceptionally annoying, just a few.  Actually, mostly just two.  Girls. 

So, sometimes, when there are a lot of people in a room, you can't make yourself be heard over the din of several different conversations.  I am a loud person - even I understand this.  These girls?  Nope!  No understanding of that concept.   Every time I go to wine night I feel like I've done permanent damage to my ear drum.  Seriously.  There is no reason for that kind of volume, or shrieky pitch, in someone's living room.

My own personal theory on the shrieky volume problem was substantiated tonight when I found out that one of the Shrieky twins is a teacher.

Teachers are at the bottom of my list when it comes to personality types that I enjoy hanging out with.  I think its because of the inherent personality conflict.  I like to be (demand to be even) the center of attention - at least for a little while - at every function I go to.  This is normally pretty easy because I say crazy weird things and bullshit with people.  (I am totally fascinating.  Admit it.)  Teachers though, make a career of being the center of attention.  Its just a hobby for me.  Think of what it does to your personality when, five days a week, 30 little people listen to every word you say.  And do what you tell them to.  If people did I told them to and listened to me 5 days a week, my bitchiness and self-centerness would be difficult to rein in as well.  True too for teachers. 

But you know what?  What works for 7 year olds doesn't work for adults (even quasi-adults like myself) 

Did I mention that the annoying girls got louder as each bottle of wine was opened?

Yeah.  Drunk, loud and shrieky annoying girls.

Wine club rocks.

But, I did learn something important that I'm going to pass on to you.  I normally don't like Chiantis.  I'm still learning what it is about wine that I like or don't like, but I stay away from Chiantis.  Tonight though, I really enjoyed two of them, both of which were Chianti Riservas.  A special kind (and probably more expensive) Chianti.  They were more robust and flavorful.  The whole room rated both of these "4 corks" (out of a possible five.  They are serious dorks.  I'm not lying). 

So, not a terrible waste of a night.  Better than curling up at 8 pm with Leroy and Arlo and watching wife swap.

I think.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Funny things that happened today

I say again, it sure is tough to have a blog about dating and relationships when you aren't dating and the closest thing to "relations" you've had recently is when Arlo the cat wakes your ass up when you oversleep by scraping the skin off your elbow with his rough cat tongue.  Ah! Morning exfoliation treatments, just like at the spa!

I related my wake up call story via email to the nice (not really, more bitter than nice) lesbian woman that I ride the van to work with, when she emailed to find out who would be on the van for the rest of the week (clearly not me, since I can't manage to set my alarm properly).  She wrote back asking whether it was Arlo or Leroy.

Excuse me?!   She knows my cats names?!

I have talked about my cats exactly twice to this woman.  I really try to keep the cat thing on the down low.  They are my pets, not my children.  I don't talk obsessively about them.  I don't carry pictures of them in my wallet (ok, I don't even own a wallet) or on my phone (my phone is so crappy and old you wouldn't be able to tell it was a cat anyway).  But she does!  Whole cell phone filled with cat pictures.  She even sent me some over email!  Clearly, she loves her cats (please refrain from lesbian jokes in your head featuring the word "pussy").  

So, my huge ego has now convinced the sane normal part of me that this woman has a crush on me.  Why else would she have instantly memorized the names of my cats?  I've had friends who, for years, have called Arlo "Elvis".  They remember its a music person that starts with a vowel.  Elvis is what they keep coming up with.  So my lesbian van friend is either super extra cat crazy, or I might want to stop wearing shirts on the van that enhance my cleavage.

A superior demonstration in passive aggressive behavior was the other funny thing that happened to me today.  I have a co-worker who doesn't like me much.  And when I say "doesn't like me much," I really mean "despises me with an unmatched passion."  I'd like to think that its because I'm terribly cute and popular (remember my ego?).   Its probably more because I'm the self-centered, self-congratulatory, semi-bitchy, slightly manipulative fair-haired golden child of the office.  Oh, and I've  been promoted twice since she started asking for a promotion.  I would hate me too.  But the fact that I'm kinda cute must have something to do with it, right?  
(No?  Its not ok to say no!)

Its such a little thing, but it cracked me up.  Susan-hater made a new little, phone sized phone- list for herself.  Perfect size for taping onto the little space on our new Cisco phones.  And she made one for everyone else in the office.  Except for me.  Oh, and except for the guy that only works in the office some of the time and refuses to pick up the phone (clearly, he doesn't need one).  We have a bunch of people out at a conference right now, and their little, full color lists were all propped up next to their phone, demonstrating the love she has for them.  Love for them, but not for me!  

I honestly ran around the office checking to see who got one and who didn't get one.  My secretary and I kabitzed about it for at least 20 minutes, then it occurred to me later that I needed to check to make sure that my name was on the list.  It was.  Small favors...

It probably gave her tremendous satisfaction that her little gesture made everyone's office life a little easier.  Except for mine.  I honestly thought about asking her for one, or talking to her about how shitty it was that she excluded me.  But what purpose would that have served?  None.  No purpose whatsoever.  So, I photocopied one, and cut it down to size myself.  The stark black and white of my list (as opposed to everybody else's orange and white) will remind me every time I look at it of how petty and immature fully grown adults can sometimes be.

And I will giggle.  And move on.  But I'm not inviting her to lunch...

Sunday, January 11, 2009

The Bachelor's single-dad sham

Last night, I nauseated myself by watching the two hour premiere of ABC's The Bachelor.  I normally don't watch crap like this, but my schoolwork induced haze coupled with my lack of cable TV channels sucked me right in.  

The last time I truly enjoyed and followed one of these shows was something like five years ago when Fox rolled out Joe Millionaire.  God, I loved that show.  I was still getting used to being single and having my house to myself - I could come home, eat a whole pint of Ben and Jerry's, drink as much wine as I wanted to and watch the awfullest TV shows ever made without someone making comments or grabbing the remote away to turn on Junkyard Wars.  Joe Millionaire rocked - that stupid big plumber guy and all those horrible girls...  I so wish they would do it again.

The Bachelor?  I hate.  I hate the women who would quit their jobs for a chance to meet, and compete, for the love of this dude they think they know because they saw his heart get broken on national TV.  I hate the women who would give up their kids for six weeks for the chance to marry a tv personality and move across the country, to dismal rainy Seattle.  I hated the glittery, boobs-hanging-out dresses, and oh my god, the makeup.  I can't believe he kept some of them around - on tv it was bad enough, but in person, they must have looked like circus clowns.

But, what I hate most of all is how they play up the fact that the new Bachelor, Jason, is a "single dad."  Its everywhere.  "Jason is the first Bachelor who is a single dad!"  "Jason is a single-dad.  His kid Ty is the most important thing to him" (Really, looks to me like taking six weeks off and getting laid is the most important thing to him).  And the women "He's so cute! And a dad too!"  "I love that he loves his son so much..." 

Barf.

When I first heard about the new Bachelor, I assumed his former wife was dead because it sure seemed like he was a full-time single dad.  Oops.  Not so much.  Guess what folks?  The Bachelor has an ex-wife that he shares custody with!  Ever hear that poor woman mentioned?  Nope.  You know why Jason the Bachelor is so "hot" and has time to go to the gym, get buff and wax his back (there is no way his back is that hairless on its own)?  Cuz the guy likely gets to see his kid every other weekend and one night during the week. 

Being a "single-dad" is a hobby to this guy, and most other single dads who share custody.  4 days a month they have their kid, and 4 evenings.  I spend more time than that mowing my yard.  It has been my experience that Mom still is the one holding down the fort, mom still has to take off work when kid gets sick, mom makes all the arrangements for soccer and kid karate, mom handles discipline problems, mom handles school problems, mom handles doctors appointments, mom packs the bags for when kid stays the weekend at dad's...

Being a single-dad is EASY!  All the work is done for you.  Its more like babysitting than parenting.  When I used to babysit, the kids would already have taken their showers, be in their pajamas and specific instructions were left.  Oh, and there was always good junk food, but that's slightly off topic.  Same goes for dad-night and dad weekends.  Specific instructions are given.  Clothes are laid out.  The arrangements are made - all you have to do is have them back home in time.  

Don't get your panties all in a twist guys.  I know that there are lots of divorced dads who wish they had more time with their kids.  And I know that there are divorced dads out there who have full custody who sacrifice to keep their kids.  What I am upset about is how Jason the Bachelor is made out to be a hero because he is a part-time dad.  He's not a hero.  He's just a guy that stays at home with his kid every other Saturday night.

Jason's ex-wife?  I feel for you lady, and I'm on your side.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

1977 makes Friday happy

I haven't laughed so hard in a really long time.

A friend send this blog to me at work yesterday and I absolutely have to share it with you because your life won't be complete until you have seen it and thanked whatever god you may have that its no longer the 70's.

Female boss laughed so hard she cried off her mascara and the water delivery person thought she was insane.  Turns out she remembers purchasing at least one of these items for a boyfriend because "it would go with everything!"

Enjoy

http://15minutelunch.blogspot.com/2007/10/strap-in-shut-up-and-hold-on-were-going.html



Affirmation, as brought to me by dining room table

The very day after I wrote my rant on the Raymour & Flanigan commercials, I was in my other boss's office chatting (other boss is a male) and he was whining about having to do stuff after work for his wife.

Susan:  "Quit 'yer whining.  What is it you have to do this time?"

Boss:  "I gotta go pick up this foo-foo new dining room table my wife bought."

Susan:  "Oh!  Cool.  What does it look like?"

Boss:  "I don't know what the damn thing looks like.  I never saw it.  I just do what I'm told."

Its so funny how life can hand you something like that to reaffirm your opinions and blog posts. And so quickly too.

PS - I am not exaggerating or making this up (like I normally do).  Although, I may not have actually said "yer."


Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Boys, useless by design or by choice?

A common theme with several of my co-workers and friends is how useless men are in everyday situations.  Its like most of them never really grow up and always need to be told what to do. Just like an intern at the office, they lack the initiative to just go ahead and do what needs to be done.  It needs to be spelled out for them.  

I was at lunch today (new thai restaurant!) with my boss and an old friend, bitching about men of course, when boss points out to us a lunch group of about 5 guys and one woman.  The guys were all standing around a looking at each other "uh, what do we do?  The table only fits four!" while the woman took charge and muscled the two tables together.  By herself.  I think the men all sat down before she did too.  They damn well better have bought her lunch.

This phenomenon is often on my mind because I hear stories from my friends all the time about the simple things their men don't get.  But today, while watching tv, I got right hot about it.  Raymour & Flanigan, a regional furniture store, has launched a new ad.  It features an attractive man sitting on the couch talking about how wonderful his wife is: "She has a certain style about her.  Our taxes are always done in January.  She keeps our finances in order.  She picked out all this really nice furniture that I put my sweaty feet all over and fart on."  (ok, I might be making that last part up)  Ok fine.  You clearly are just the eye candy in this fake furniture selling relationship.  Yes, yes, you sit around all day and your wife makes all the big decisions for you, just like your mommy used to.  Fine.  I accept this.

What I have trouble accepting is that while useless husband guy is sitting around talking up his wife, she is in the background in a really nice suit/dress - setting the table!  Seriously Raymour & Flanigan?  You couldn't do any better than that?  There are actually two of these ads - one with wifey setting the table, and another with wifey doing something like paying taxes in the background.  Note, there are no ads with Wifey talking about what great style her husband has and how helpful he was when it came to making decisions about the house.

And I was this close to buying a new couch from them too.  Good thing I procrastinated.  It would have just given them more revenue to come out with more ads that piss me off.

Monday, January 5, 2009

A non-anniversary

One year ago today, I went on my first date with BB.  A non-anniversary, for a non-relationship.

I know he doesn't remember the exact date, but I'm sure it will occur to him pretty soon that we've been a part of each other's lives for a pretty long time.  And although he was only my boyfriend for under three months, if you count the "not-dating" phase (which started in July) he's my second longest "relationship."  If you just want to add up the number of months that we've had "relations" - well, he's second too.

That's pretty messed up - my longest "relationship" since my early twenties is with someone I'm not even in a relationship with.  

I've convinced myself that if we had stayed in an actual relationship, it would have crashed and burned for good sometime this summer.  The pressure and the uncertainty of the situation would have killed it, for real.  But, the non-dating situation is so easy for those of us with a fear of commitment.  We get the benefit of living in the moment and enjoying each other, without all that crap that comes with deciding where you are going to live, where you are going to spend Christmas, figuring out who overdrew the checking account and arguing over who needs to take out the trash.  'Course, there's no benefits of an actual relationship - being able to plan activities for next year, ability to demand he go to social events with me and take me to the airport, the comfort of knowing he will be there for me when I need help, whatever it may be...

In six days, the anniversary of the first time we had sex...  (yes, you read that right.  Clearly, I am cheap and easy)

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Debbie Downer

"And in 2009, the role of Debbie Downer will be played by...

Susan!  Congratulations!  I hope you will enjoy your new role being the most un-fun person around!"

I just got off the phone with KT who is reveling in her new relationship with a fun, interesting and muscly boy (man?).  I realize that this is how I sounded last year when I first met BB, although she's not nearly as bad as I was (yet).  Her happiness and enthusiasm is such a stark contrast to how I'm feeling right now.

2009 got off to a pretty poor start when I found out at 9am (thank god I didn't have a hangover) that Dad had fallen and really hurt himself.  Which means he can't really get around the house.  Or really feed himself that well.  Or get up and down the steps.  I took turns with my mom (who divorced the guy 15 years ago and doesn't have to help at all) going to the house, getting food ready and making sure he was ok.  I found myself today looking at accessories for walkers at the drug store (he needs a basket for the walker) and smirked a little.  No cute men to be found in the aisle with the walkers and that special thing you can put on the toilet so its easier to sit on.  Yup.  2009 is shaping up to be another great year.

I don't know why I had such hope that a new year would miraculously cure all my problems. 

So, poor KT told me that I needed a vacation.  True 'dat.

KT: You could come up here for the weekend.

Me: Sigh (and whine?)  I don't know.  I'm going to have to stick close for a while to take care of dad.

KT:  We could do a beach weekend.  Spa treatments.  Hot tub...

Susan:  Sigh.  I don't know.  I'm short on cash right now.  I need to figure out where my money is going before I can spend it.

KT:  I'm going to visit Stacey.  You could come.  I can drive.

Susan:  Sigh.  Yeah, but her apartment is so small.  Three of us wouldn't really work.

KT:  We could find a bed and breakfast in the mountains.

Susan:  Sigh.  Yeah.  Probably not for a while.  Class starts tomorrow and its going to be a lot of work....

Poor KT.  She tried so hard.  When I hung up the phone I realized that I am now that friend. Debbie Downer.  Fantastic.

Perhaps I should resolve to quit acting like this.