It's the Holiday season...

For as long as I can remember, I've loved the holidays.  I love the songs, the movies, the decorations, and the cookies.  What I do not love, is the forced merriment, the stressed out shoppers/diners I have to deal with at work, or the feeling of expectation that the big day is supposed to be something it is often not.  I am happy to spread as much joy as possible, buy a few gifts, and spend December 25th relaxing, eating, drinking and going to bed at a reasonable hour. 

My ex and I started a tradition of driving around on Christmas Eve, drinking cocoa, listening to carols and looking at Christmas lights.  In my romanticized hindsight, it was always magical and tender and we would get home, curl up on the sofa to watch a Christmas movie, and enjoy a beautiful night.  When I really think about some of those Christmas Eves past, however, I remember that we also got into quite a few fights when I thought he was driving too fast and recklessly on icy streets and trying to turn up people's private driveways to get a better view of things.  In fact, the last time we ventured out, I distinctly recall pouring a fair amount of peppermint schnapps into my cocoa, hoping to attain a level of apathy toward his driving that would prevent a Yuletide fight.  I don't remember if it worked or not, you know, cuz I was all drunk...  

Regardless, for the past 3 years (since he and I broke up), I've upheld this driving-around-looking-at lights tradition, only now I do it alone, crying, and pining for the past.  It's really quite a spectacle.  Thankfully, when I get home and pop in 'It's a Wonderful Life', the only ones around to see me weep into my wine are my cats, and they don't judge.

It occurred to me the other day, that I reference my ex quite often, in this blog and in life.  A friend actually asked me if I would consider getting back together with him--if maybe that's what I really want.  I thought about it for a minute, but only for a minute, because if I'm being completely honest with myself, the answer is no.  He is an amazing person, and I will always love him, but we didn't work.  I want what we had, but better.  I've since dated the too young, the too clueless, the too selfish and I've pursued the too old and too uninterested, with no one quite falling in the middle yet.  I'm apparently the freaking Goldilocks of dating.  

This year, I decided to buck tradition and instead, hung out with friends, got drunk and confessed some feelings to a crush...Had that worked out in my favor, I don't suppose I'd be sitting here typing this, but so what?  I've always been a bigger fan of New Year's than Christmas anyway.  I like clean slates, new beginnings and fresh starts, all of which a new year encompasses.  So, instead of letting the holidays make me blue, I'm going to continue making my resolutions list and look forward.  

Resolution #1) Maintain a high level of awesomeness.  

This shit is gonna be easy...

You've got my vote...

If you are anything like me, you could not have been happier to see Tuesday November 6th come and go.  It's not that I wasn't excited to learn the outcome of this pivotal election, but more so, I was excited that my phone would stop endlessly ringing.  

There are exactly 3 people who ever call me on the phone: 
1.) My mother 
2.) My father (and that's on a rather specific bi-monthly basis) 
3.)  A very persistent bill collector who I've been successfully dodging for years now. 

So, in a normal week, I receive maybe 2-3 phone calls.  Fast forward to an election year, however, and it's a totally different story. You see, I'm lucky enough to live in Colorado, one of the so-called "battleground" states.  I am also registered as neither Democrat nor Republican, which I recently learned is the equivalent of writing "I am obviously confused and unsure who to vote for.  Please call me 46 times a day to convince me your candidate is the best", on your voter registration form.  Lesson learned... but all of this nonsense got me thinking:  Is choosing someone to vote for any different than choosing someone to date?

Obviously, in either situation, you want someone who shares your values.  You want someone who is honest with you about their intentions and who keeps their promises.  Nothing is worse than a politician who promises not to raise taxes, for example, then gets elected and raises them anyway.  Equally disappointing, is a boyfriend who promises to take out the garbage and massage your feet then doesn't deliver.

Let's face it... whether campaigning or dating, everyone brings their A-game in the beginning in order to win over their audience.  You're playing up all your best qualities and glossing over all the undesirable ones.  This is understandable. Just like no politician would have a chance in hell of getting elected if he began a speech by stating his personal agenda and listing any and all special interest groups that are contributing financially to his campaign, no guy is getting a second date if on the first, he opens with "I have crippling intimacy issues, so it's great you agreed to go out with me!"  Euphemisms, spin-doctoring and in the case of dating, good old-fashioned 'fake it til you make it' are the order of the day.  

That being said, it would be so refreshing to find a man that could humble himself, admit to his shortcomings and be honest with you.  Just once, I'd like to hear a candidate (or lover) say "I honestly don't know if I can balance the budget (give you an orgasm).  But I believe I can do it;  I've got some good strategies and I'm going to get in there and try my damnedest to make it happen".

As for the next election cycle, candidates please note:  I would never go for the needy guy that calls me all the time telling me how important I am and needing constant reassurance that I like him.  It's the quiet, mysterious loner who's been catching my eye from time to time from across the room that I'm going to gravitate toward (what up, Gary Johnson!?)  And as long as he doesn't try to take away my hard-earned money, my birth-control, or my gun, I might just marry him.

Breaking up is hard to do...

Forgive me for stating the obvious, but it's true.  Breaking up sucks.  It's difficult whether you've been dating someone for 5 days or 5 years, because in essence, what you are saying to them is "You lack something that I require."  And often, what is lacking is something they already know about them self and having the person they care about present it to them and proceed to reject them as a suitable partner because of it, is awful.  

In some cases, your needs are clear and obvious.  In my 1st serious relationship, I stated to him "I need you to NOT stumble home drunkenly at 2:30 a.m. every night, take a piss in my garden and proceed to pass out open-mouthed and drooling on my brand new sofa."  I felt this was a legitimate request.  However, he could not abide, so out the door I went and I never looked back.  I had slowly lost any respect I'd ever had for him, and with it, any love I'd ever felt.  

But so much more often, the situation is a little fuzzier.  Breaking things off when you still love and care for someone, yet you know in your heart they will never be the person you want them to be, or be able to provide you with what you need... that's when it's tricky.  I've always believed that loving someone is the easy part.  Dealing with their family crap/prior relationship baggage/day-to-day b.s. is the real challenge.   

I know people can change.  I also know they will only do so when they are damn good and ready, and not usually because someone tells them they have to.  Changing fundamental things about yourself to attempt to make someone else happy, does nothing but breed resentment and, in my eyes, is more or less fulfilling an ultimatum: "Become the person I expect you to be, or it's over."  Who wants to live that way? 

Still, I am guilty of staying in relationships longer than I should have, simply for the comfort that comes from having someone around.  Those who know me, know I enjoy my solitude and independence, yet there's something to be said for having someone to come home to and snuggle with on a cold night.  It's also very easy to be seduced by the vision of yourself as seen through the eyes of someone who loves you.  You say to yourself "This person thinks I hung the moon... how can I possibly hurt them?"  

It's hard on the cats, too.  Laugh it up, but you try to explain to 2 precious little furry beings why the tall, hairy, deep-voiced human that pets them all the time, is no longer around.  Even if the relationship only lasted a few months, that's like, 4 1/2 years to a cat!  I'm just saying, break-ups are rough on everyone. 

I've often wondered if my expectations are too high.  I'm curious what it would be like to be one of those people who meets someone and decides "This is it.  I'm done with dating, I want a family, so whatever nonsense comes along with this person, I'm just going to accept it and power through for the greater good."  I know people like this.  I've watched them in action and it's intriguing.  But for me, it sounds dangerously like I'd be changing and compromising my vision of the future for someone else and that, I resent.

Papa don't preach...

Everywhere I look...babies. Perhaps it's because I live in a military town, but I swear you can't swing a dead cat around here without hitting a pregnant chic.  They're in restaurants, movie theaters, and most often, clothing stores.  Struttin' around with their adorable little basketball bellies, trying on maternity sundresses and stretchy pants.  

I've always loved pregnant bellies.  I am the psycho that accosts women in the grocery store to tell them how beautiful they look, all fat and waddling around.  In fact, if I were a dude, my obsession would be down-right creepy.  I have dressed up pregnant for Halloween three times, jokingly saying it was the scariest costume I could think of. 

I've never considered myself "baby-crazy".  In fact, children kind of freak me out.  So, I have never put much stock in the whole 'biological clock' thing, but recently, it feels like the universe is shouting at me: "Hey lady!  You ain't gettin' any younger!  Shit or get off the pot!"  (Apparently, I picture the universe as a hot-tempered, Italian-American cab driver.)  

For years, when asked if I wanted kids, my party line has been "Well, the jury is still out... perhaps if I meet the right guy?"  Lately though, I feel like my whole 'maybe-when-the-time-is-right' attitude, is quickly devolving into 'it's-now-or-never', as I'm bombarded with horror stories and statistics about older woman conceiving.

Now, I also hear it's helpful if there is a dude around to get this ball rolling, and as of late, there is no dude.  I finally called it quits with the man-child boyfriend due in large part to my recent soul-searching.  The irony of my life, of course, is that I broke up with him because he doesn't want children, nor is he in any way capable of the stability required to undertake such things even if he did.  Yet, I will probably spend the next 6 months mourning our relationship and in doing so, waste that much more time not finding someone who does want the same things I do.

Sure, it has occurred to me over the years that the right man/time/circumstance might never present itself, so like any smart planner, I had some back-ups in place.  You know, guy friends I made pacts with so that if it got to this point, we would pop out a baby or two together.  The problem is, my back-ups are a couple of suckers that keep getting girlfriends or getting married.  Clearly, I did not think these plans through....

I don't want to end up as a crazy lady who walks up to random men on the street who have straight teeth and full heads of hair and asks if they'd be interested in knocking me up. So, I suppose I need to just settle down and keep believing, as I have my whole life, that things will work out the way they're supposed to.  And if, at age 37, I'm still telling myself this, then bring on the turkey baster.

Who knew?

The strangest thing happened to me today. I received some long-awaited closure that I didn't see coming.   Let me explain... 

About 2 years ago, I was out one night with some friends, when I saw a boy I had been crushing on for years.  He works at a local natural foods store that I frequent, but I had never seen him outside of work until then.  There he was, in all his tanned skin, golden-haired glory.  I had an uncharacteristically ballsy moment and decided to not only go talk to him, but invite him to sit with my friends and me.  By the end of the night, he had walked me to my car and asked for my number, weeee!!  

We went out for happy hour beers about a week later--nothing crazy, just a casual date at a casual place.  We had, what I perceived to be, a wonderful time.  Talking, laughing, sharing stories and interests.  However, he never called me.  I eventually called him a week or two later, and left a breezy message about how I thought we had a great time, but maybe I had misread things, so if he didn't call me back, I would assume he thought I was a total spaz and would move on with my life.  It was totally breezy.  I never heard back.  Not a peep.  

I, of course, did not move on with my life immediately, but instead replayed our date over and over again in my head, wondering what I could have possibly done to repel him.   

When he asked what my interests were, should I not have said "bugs"?  
When he asked what was on my IPOD, should I have lied and said something less lame than Kelly Clarkson, The Pet Shop Boys and a bunch of NPR podcasts?  

My friends all decided he was a jerk, but I kept thinking 'I really don't think he is...'  
Eventually I did manage to stop dwelling on it and move on, except the once a month or so when I needed something from his store.  

Fast forward to this afternoon... I found myself in need of some supplements and hippie shampoo, so off I went.  He was the first person I saw as I walked through the sliding door, and he got the same sort of panicked look on his face that he's had every time he's seen me since our fateful date.  

I walked down the aisle to get what I had come for, and a few minutes later as I stood pondering which organic, patchouli-scented, beeswax chapstick to spend $3.50 on, he came around the corner.   As usual, I gave him an awkward half-smile and immediately looked back down at the shelf, expecting him to turn around and run away.  Instead, he came over and said "I really want to apologize for never calling you back that time.  It was a really shitty thing to do and I've been carrying it around and feeling guilty about it for 2 years now."  

He went on to say that he had been in the midst of a bad break-up, and she had been messing with his head and it was nothing I did, in fact, he thought I was really nice, he just shouldn't have tried to go on a date at that time, yadda, yadda.  

I was shocked to say the least, but I accepted his apology and thanked him for not only putting my mind at ease, but for making it so much less uncomfortable to go shopping for beet chips and coconut oil.  The moral of this story?  Closure does exist, and it could happen to you when you least expect it.

Fifty Shades of Crap....

I finished reading Fifty Shades Darker last night, the sequel to the best-selling Fifty Shades of Grey, and I literally threw it across the room in a fit of annoyance.  Where do I even begin... 

First of all, this blog is one giant spoiler, so if you haven't read this series and are still planning to, stop reading now.  Or, you could look at me as a book reviewer and let what I tell you determine whether or not you want to waste X amount of your precious time muddling through this pile of garbage yourself.  I'll leave it up to you.  

That being said, I originally bought the 1st book after seeing an SNL skit depicting various ladies getting caught reading it in very compromising positions.  I had heard a little about it and I thought "This will be some fun, light, escapist erotica to add to my summer reading list!"  And at first, it was.  

Then, about 1/2 way through the 1st book, I began noticing some things, like how poorly written it is.  Someone desperately needs to buy the author, (or more accurately her editor), a Thesaurus.  So help me God, if she uses the words: mercurial, taciturn or petulant one more F-ING time, I'm going to lose my shit.  Also, she consistently has people "muttering" or "mumbling", when just plain "saying" or "asking" things would suffice.  

Now, I know it must get tiresome trying to find new and exciting ways to describe orgasms when the couple (Ana and Christian) has had sex, like, 4,000 times, but please try!  Every blessed time, Ana is "spiraling out of control" and "shattering into a million pieces" as she "finds her release."  It's quite redundant, not to mention irritating.  As is the fact that this chic has an orgasm every single time they do it!!  Every time!  And she's always ready and willing... she's never tired; never has a headache or something better to do, nope! 

Not to mention, they've known each other a grand total of 5 weeks and somehow, in that time, Christian's deep-seated psychological issues have more or less vanished and now he wants a white picket fence?  And Ana, who is 22-years old, has never been in a relationship and was a virgin when they met, has decided he is the one and only?  Obviously, sex can be very powerful and I know I'm a total cynic when it comes to rushed romance, but really?  

I cannot remember the last time I rolled my eyes at every other paragraph in a book, except perhaps when I read the Twilight series.  In fact, recently someone mentioned to me that the Fifty... books were loosely based on or modeled after the Twilight books, which I totally see.  All supernatural nonsense aside, the characters are equally annoying, needy, co-dependent, controlling and dull.  

The real kicker is, I'm going to have to get the 3rd book because as frustrated as I was with the first 2, I am pretty much incapable of not finishing things I have started.  It's a curse.  Besides, I don't have 3 crappy books on a best seller list, so I know I might sound like a petulant child, but my mercurial temper needs to find it's release from time to time since I'm so taciturn in my day to day life. 

Fires and break-ups and birthdays, oh my!

It has been a doozy of a summer so far... Between my town being on fire for most of June, the back and forth break-up styling of my most recent beau and I, and in the middle of it all, my 34th birthday deciding to show up, it was basically the perfect storm of suck.  I have, of course, learned some things as a result of these events.  

First of all, I am quite terrified of fire, especially when it is more or less in my backyard.  
Secondly, I am not normally the type to get back together with someone after a break-up has been established.  But I'll tell you, there's nothing like a mandatory 2a.m. evacuation to bring a couple closer together.  
Lastly, I was apparently not prepared, mentally or emotionally, to be suddenly thrust into my mid-thirties.  

Everyone says I'm being silly and 'you're only as old as you feel', blah, blah, blah, but the fact is, I'm not where I thought I would be by this age.  Now, I have a tendency to over think things.  What?!  No... Not The Poor Man's Carrie Bradshaw I know, you say!  But it's true.  I have often wished I could be more fearless with regard to love and life decisions.  I have known people who have been married; divorced; remarried; and had a child, all in the time it takes me to decide whether or not to let the guy I'm seeing have a key to my apartment.  What can I say?  I'm cautious.  

But, I'm getting better... I'm still seeing my sweet, uncomplicated, man-child of a boyfriend, even though no one understands our relationship.  In fact, I've become aware that some people are downright annoyed by it.  

"You deserve better", says one of my bar regulars who has been trying to court me for awhile, but who I've repeatedly rebuffed.  To him I say:  That's great that you think so, but the fact is:  

• You don't know him at all.  
• You don't really know me either.  
• You may look good on paper, but I don't desire you.  I desire him.  

Life is too short to spend with someone whose presence doesn't set your heart and/or your pants on fire.

Just gettin out some blues...

She'd spent years tracing over the unfinished tattoo on his back with her fingertip.  He said it was the abstract outline of a scorpion (his sign), but she couldn't see it.  To her, it was just a bunch of lines and shapes creating a mural across his smooth, freckled skin.  Something she could stare at for hours...get lost in; hypnotized by.

Though she thought of him often, it was these small details that seemed to have completely dissipated with time, only to be brought back into her consciousness quite suddenly and painfully as she innocently stroked the soft, taught skin of a new lover's back while lazing around in bed on a recent morning.

A cool breeze blew through the open window and across her bare legs that early June morning and she could hear the solemn coo of a mourning dove outside.  It was over.  She'd known for awhile, but it wasn't until last night that he had agreed.  It was alright...it was never meant to last in the first place.  What began as two friends scratching a mutual itch, had developed into feelings.  Love, even.  But, nothing so strong as to cloud her judgement or make her think this was something it wasn't.

Still, she was sad.  It's easy to grow accustomed to having someone around.  Easy to get used to their smell, their sounds, their presence.  To subconsciously file away information about them so that for years afterward, a certain line from a movie, type of food, or brand of shampoo will still remind you of them........

Nothing's gonna change my world.....

I recently spent a week back east, visiting my family.  In the 12 years I've lived in Colorado, I've found myself making the journey back "home" at least once a year for either a wedding, a reunion, or most recently, a burning desire to see my precious nephews, whose childhoods I am completely missing out on because I live so far away.  


Although I love my family and friends and it's always wonderful to see them, the last few times I've visited I end up feeling so sad and miserable by the third day, I can't wait to leave.  It's difficult to pinpoint exactly why, though I think it's becoming clearer.  It's as though everything there has changed, yet nothing has changed and I'm caught somewhere in the middle.  


When I am in Colorado, living my life, I am generally happy.  I have friends and interests and goals and I don't question every life choice I've ever made.  Then I go there.  Suddenly, I'm seeing people I knew a hundred years ago, and while they are still living in the same area where we grew up and in some cases, are working the same jobs, they've gotten married, bought houses and had babies.  I tried my hand at this "normal", grown-up type of life, but it didn't stick.  So now, after years of always feeling so mature, I instead feel like a confused teenager being pressured to evaluate my life and make decisions I don't feel equipped to make. 


Another thing about the area where I grew up?  Babies.  Babies as far as the eye can see.  I swear it's something in the water.  Every time I turn around, someone else is preggo.  And here's the thing about babies.... unless you have one of your own, you will soon find that you have absolutely nothing to talk about with those that do.  It's all breast-feeding and stretchmarks; daycare and poo.  I'm interested in these things to an extent due to my naturally morbid curiosity about all things gross/unfamiliar.  However, I can guarantee they don't give a rip about the new cocktail I created at work, or my most recent trip to Vegas.  They say things like:  "We're about to refinance our mortgage at a really great rate!" and "Our youngest just said his first words!".  
Meanwhile, I'm like:  "Yeah, my boyfriend's in a death metal band....."  


When I sit back and take all this in, it once again makes me question what I want or don't want.  I'm pretty sure I don't want to be 60 years old at my child's high school graduation because I waited for the "perfect" time/guy.  Nor do I want to be one of those chics that gets knocked up accidentally/on purpose with any old dude that happens to swing by on ovulation day just because the clock is ticking.  


Rock------Me------Hard place.

I'm smiling next to you, in silent lucidity....

I am beat.  I had forgotten how much work it is to be a "girlfriend".  From the "doing stuff together", to the "talking about your day", to the "having sex all the time"... it's exhausting.  Plus, even if you aren't living together, you typically end up spending so much time together that it feels like you are.  As a solitary person by nature, this is my biggest hurdle.


Over the last few years, I've become accustomed to a certain lifestyle and routine, nerdy and loner-ish as it may be.  I enjoy listening to NPR morning edition while I get ready for work.  I can read or busy myself with seemingly mundane tasks like reorganizing my linen closet for hours on end and be perfectly content.  And if we're being honest, I like being alone so I can burp, fart, talk to myself or take an un-self-conscious poop with the bathroom door open.  It's the little things...


As anyone who knows me can attest, I have an uncanny gift for/annoying habit of comparing any life situation to an episode of either Friends or Sex and the City.  I'm sort of like a Trekky, but with less pasty skin and better fashion sense.  Recently, I was reminded of the episode of SatC, when Aiden moved in with Carrie and she started going crazy due to his constant presence and barrage of questions as soon as she walked in the door: "Where you been?"  "Who'd you see?"  "What'dya know?"  I feel your pain, Carrie.


I try to tell myself to be less rigid and more open.  I've gotten a little better over time, but what it comes down to is, I spend the majority of my life listening to other people's problems and drama due to my chosen line of work.  Bartenders are basically underpaid shrinks without the luxury of a comfy leather chair and climate-controlled office.  That being said, I don't think it's selfish to want silence and solitude, at least sometimes, during my off hours.  The irony of course being, my Ex talked more than an auctioneer on speed and my Current also very much enjoys the sound of his own voice.   I think it would behoove me to marry either a deaf/mute or a long-haul trucker...

Don't look back in anger....

It seems to me there is an age at which people start taking stock of their lives and asking questions. Questions like "What might have been?" I don't want to label it a "mid-life crisis" because I don't quite think I'm there yet, but it's similar and I find it happening all around me. Ghosts of lovers past, suddenly start popping up on facebook and the like to ask "How have you been?!" "What are you doing now?!" "Are you married?!?!"

I get it. I am at an age where my peers and I have perhaps had a serious relationship or two, maybe even popped out a couple of rugrats, but things ultimately didn't work out and now instead of looking bleakly ahead into the unknown, it appears a lot easier and more enticing to look hopefully and optimistically to the past.

What ever happened to So-and-So?, you muse one night over a bottle of merlot. You begin to think he might have been "the one" and you were too young and foolish to recognize it. You think "Hey, we both liked Marilyn Manson and Red Lobster and Beavis and Butthead reruns... how have we not reconnected and gotten married?" Thankfully, the next morning when I awaken surrounded by empty wine bottles, chocolate wrappers, old journals and my high school yearbook, I have the clarity and presence of mind to realize that ship has sailed.

However, there are those who think that because we went our separate ways and got our respective shit together, we should absolutely give things another shot because obviously it would work out this time. 15 years past and 2000 miles apart be damned! Never mind the only thing we ever had in common was alcohol and low self-esteem, let's turn our lives upside-down and give it a go!

Don't get me wrong, the temptation is there. Unfortunately, the few times I've ventured back down this road, I wound up feeling as though the idea of re-falling in love with someone from my past was more enticing than the reality. Not to say they aren't amazing people with a lot to offer, but some things were meant to end. Besides, I have a whole lot of fresh mistakes to make with shiny, brand-spanking new people... I don't have time for hindsight.

Sweet surrender....

Spring is in the air and with it, love. It seems everyone around me is in love. One of my childhood bff's is getting married this month and 3, yes 3, different girls at work just announced their engagements. Even my annoying bar customers seem to be coupling off and if 'Creepy Juggler Guy' and 'Crazy Chocolate Martini Lady' can find a connection, then I feel like there is hope for us all.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have been MIA from the facebook/blogosphere world for the past couple of months due mostly to a boy and the copious amounts of time we have been spending together. However, far from planning a wedding like my friends, I am simply enjoying his company and accepting the relationship for what it is: a passionate, caring, mutually beneficial situation that we both know is headed nowhere.

I know to some, this may sound strange and pointless. Quite honestly, I have always been the first one to opine about and question quite loudly why people stay in relationships that aren't right and state how I'd rather be alone than be with the wrong person. What I never figured into the equation, was how many amazing new experiences you might miss out on if you don't at least give things a chance. So what if the person you currently love isn't someone you see yourself with forever? Does that make the love you feel any less real?

In a strange way, this is the best relationship I've ever been in. I am rarely stressed out since I am not required to wonder "Where is this going?", nor do I waste energy nagging him about things that would most certainly annoy the hell out of me if I were secretly planning our future together. Instead, I'm free to live in the moment and that makes me happy...for now.

All my Valentine wants is some catnip...

Well, it's arrived. Tomorrow is the fateful day when grocery stores will sell out of their crappy, cream-filled candy, street corners will be littered with shitty, over-priced carnations and roses for sale, and I will have to answer no fewer than 400 phone calls at work, from frantic, desperate- sounding dudes pleading: "Can you please get my wife and I a reservation at 7:00 tonight?!? I completely forgot today was Valentine's Day! She's going to kill me!!"

Any sympathy I might have for these guys ends abruptly around the 5th call, at which point I want to tell them all to go suck a d. I'd feel slightly more sorry for them if it weren't for the huge signs/candy and flower displays that popped up in every store on earth the day after Christmas and the 200 or so full-page ads that have appeared in every newspaper for the last month, detailing restaurants' "Special 4-course Valentine's Day dinners", each complete with their own variation of shrimp cocktail, seafood bisque, cornish hens and some chocolate-raspberry nonsense for dessert. Get it together guys. I know you don't give a crap about this stuff, but chics dig guys with a game plan.

What is equally hilarious to me is girls who go overboard with V-Day plans for their boyfriend/husband. Here's a tip ladies, from me to you, that will save you a lot of time and money: Guys don't want flowers. Or candy. Or even a card. Guys want blow-jobs. There. Now put that money back in your wallet and use it to buy yourself a kick-ass scarf later.

Finally, I'd like to discuss Valentine's cards and what a piss-poor selection there is. I come across this problem whenever I have a special someone in my life at this time of year. Historically, there have been times when I was so ass over teakettle in love, that the gooey, "I-never-knew-what-love-was-until-I-met-you" cards fit the bill perfectly. However, more often than not, I am needing to convey a slightly more complicated sentiment.

Something like:

"I'm not yet sure if I love you, but I certainly enjoy your penis."

Or:

"I can't really picture being with you forever, but this last year has been super fun!"

Or:

"I love how you make me laugh, but I wish you satisfied me sexually."

Since card shopping is a constant source of frustration for me, I think perhaps I have found my new calling in life... Hallmark, you're going down.

If you put the toilet paper on upside-down, I will murder you in your sleep...

I, like many gals (I presume) am capable of being a pretty kick-ass girlfriend. As a rule, I'm not a jealous person. I am pretty trusting as well as trustworthy. I'm a good cook, I love the sex and when it comes to guys wanting "guy time", I say "Fucking go!" It gives me some quiet time to eat an entire bag of potato chips and read a book without someone pawing at my lady business.

I'm also not a big talker... I tend not to speak unless I have something worthwhile to say. You won't find me babbling about nonsense just to fill what someone else perceives to be an awkward silence and you certainly won't catch me trying to tell my boyfriend about the pair of boots I just bought while he's watching some sport show. Just like I don't give a flying rat's ass about how many points So-and-So scored in Such-and-Such game, I'm pretty sure no guy I've dated cares about the awesome deal I just got on wooden picture frames that I plan to craft the shit out of-Martha Stewart style-with glitter and seashells. Know your audience, people.

Here is why I end up being a shitty girlfriend much of the time.... I've always been kind of a loner. It's not that I don't enjoy spending time with friends and boyfriends, I just really enjoy spending time alone too. Often. To the point where I could potentially be a scary, reclusive mountain-person someday. I hate talking on the phone, so I rarely answer it. My trusting nature quite often borders on apathy and I suck at compromising.

So, big deal. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. People learn to love each other in spite of/because of these traits. However, I have yet to discuss "the crazy". Fact: All girls are born with a crazy gene. You can try to deny it, but you know I'm right. I just don't think it needs to have a negative connotation. Craziness is what makes us creative and passionate and (at times) irrational and impulsive. I embrace my crazy and nurse it like a wounded sparrow my cat brought in and let loose in the living room. It's what keeps a smile on my face when I'm at work, surrounded by a bunch of drunk-asses who have chosen to drown their sorrows at my bar. It's what makes me laugh out loud at completely inappropriate times and it's what makes me think to myself "I genuinely like who I am". I really hope most people think the same thing about themselves because if they don't, then good luck finding anyone else who will.