Faux Lesbian Dating Sites

At least one of these girls squealed "eewww" after this photo was taken.

I have been spending wasting Way too much time on Facebook. I have tried to cut down the number of applications that I have so I can get in and out quickly, but I still break down and add more, and more, applications that save the rain forest, and animals, and clean water, and feed people, and fight cancer, and fund research, and stop abuse, and help survivors, it goes on and on. I feel it's the least I can do, but it's really the most I can do, and then some. If I had a full time job right now, there wouldn't be enough hours in the day. That being said, I would like to share an annoying feature of facebook with you.

Facebook knows my sexual orientation, so I am bombarded with these adds constantly. And to be honest, I'm a bit hard pressed to understand who the actual target of these adds is.

Since these are not lesbians, one has to think they are going for straight men. There are several of these on facebook that are advertising a lesbian dating site. I'm thinking the entire website is full of nothing but straight men all pretending to be lesbians! It's really pretty funny when you think about it!

I would love to be a fly on the wall in this dating site just to read some of the emails and see the pictures that all these men are sending each other in the hopes of finding a hot bi-sexual woman who'll consent to sleep with the fake lesbian straight guy and his wife, once he somehow breaks the news to her that he's not a lesbian, and then talks his wife into it. Little does he know, the hot bi-sexual woman is also a straight guy trying to get hooked up in a threesome with two women. Wow! Even I'm confused. The one thing I'm not confused about is the sexuality of the "lesbians" in the photos. Yes, there are feminine lesbians, but please, don't insult me, or my gaydar!

Seven Semi-Revealing Tidbits

Alex the Wry Writer was tagged in one of those horrible obnoxious memes, and was "kind" enough to pass the tag on to moi. This is my stab at it. If it seems random, try reading it from back to front or start in the middle, whatever works.

Da Rules:

1. Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog:

2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird.

3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.

4. Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Now for the list, hang onto your pantyhose, here we go. Gosh this is exciting. Wouldn't it be great to have a drum roll queue up at this point just to build the tension a little bit. I feel a little bit like I'm about to do a strip tease for you, with no music. Where's the fanfare? I'm about to trot out seven tasty bits about myself to you and we haven't even gone out for a nice meal. In a way I feel cheap. Well be that as it may, I guess I should get on with it. I can't stall forever, although teasing you is fun. Alrighty then...without further ado, here they are the seven inconsequential facts about me that I don't think you already know. Hi Mom! Just a shout out to mom in case she's reading this, and she may already know some of the things, in fact some of you will probably know one or two things, but hopefully no one knows all seven, except me of course, and I'll never tell. Just kidding, I'm spilling my guts.

1. My favorite activity as a child was cracking rocks.

2. I'm a gamer. (Word games, board games, adventure games, video games, etc.)

3. I believe there can be more than one great love in my life.

4. There's a bat loose in my house even as I write this.

5. I have an alter ego and she has her own blog not linked to me. She can be completely honest and not worry about what people think of her. Lucky her!

6. Even if I hit the lotto for millions I would still eat mac and cheese every once in a while.

7. Although I am very down to earth, I am willing to abandon reality at a moment's notice.

Not in my seven, and probably widely known, is the fact that I don't always follow the rules, so I will not actively tag seven people, but will instead passively tag you. If you'd like to do this meme, fire away! Please follow all the rules!

Get Ready to Laugh!

If you watched the vice presidential debate and it left you feeling like punching something...watch this!

He Got Me Good This Time

I just found out today that my house is in foreclosure. I thought I was only two months behind, but when I went to make a payment today, the website made me call, and I was told it went into foreclosure on Oct. 1st. The lawyers were supposed to have told me.
I guess I know now what that overwhelming feeling of dread was about. I can rally and pay the past due amount, and lawyers fees, and have my loan reinstated, but I'd have to borrow money from friends and family, and sell stuff to do it, and I'm not willing to do that just to delay the inevitable.

No one is spending money on things that are not necessities right now, and what I do; home remodeling, painting, custom furniture, all of it, is fluff. I made a good run at having my own business and doing what I love. I bought a house that was a little beyond me, and after two and a half years of struggling to make ends meet, the collapsing economy has put the nail in my coffin. I am kaput.

Sure, I could go get a job, but it would have to be a very very good job (one I'm probably not qualified to do) because of the high mortgage. I would have to find a high paying job, or maybe two medium paying or jobs, or four full time low paying jobs, I'm really only limited by the number of hours in the day, so I guess I could realistically only work three full time low paying jobs but then, when would I sleep? No, low paying jobs are out.

When I quit my rather high paying job almost four years ago, to start my own business, I had high hopes, and things went really well for a while. I was getting work, my customers were always happy, most times paying me more than I charged for the work I did. I got a lot of referrals, it seemed like it I was going to be in high demand!

People told me I was brave for striking out on my own. Risking everything, following my dream. Some wished they could be like me. I never considered failure as an option. I dumped my life's savings into my business, and workshop, and home, and set out to succeed. I said, if I can't make a living doing what I love, well, I don't want to find out.

Well kids, I'm about to find out. I will keep you posted, provided my new cardboard box has high speed Internet.

Let Me Off This Ride!

"Let Me Off This Ride!"

A familiar cry to anyone who has ever operated a ride at an amusement park that spins, like teacups or tilt-a-whirl, usually followed immediately by...well, yakking.

I woke up on Tuesday morning and got out of bed and got that you got up too fast feeling, but it lasted for about 10 seconds. I clung to the bed wondering what the heck was going on. It passed, and I dismissed it. Later I was talking to a friend on the phone, I sat on the couch and decided to recline back into the corner, when that sickening dizzy spinning feeling hit me again! It felt like it feels when you've had too much to drink and the room is spinning. Then again when I sat up. Wow, that got old fast! I became very aware of the ways I moved that brought it on, and began to move very very slowly. No help. Still happened.

When I went to bed that night, I was laying on my side and rolled over onto my back. A few seconds later, I felt like I was inside a barrel rolling down a hill. It lasted for about six seconds and that seemed like an eternity. I grabbed the bed, actually frightened. The ceiling seemed to be moving. When it was over, I slowly rolled back to my side and stayed in that position all night. I woke up sore and crippled from not moving all night.

I learned with the help of a friend, and the Internet, that I have vertigo. It has many causes. I am currently on antibiotics to eliminate infection as a cause, and I really hope that's it, and it clears up and goes away. The other causes are not so easily fixed, and would require money and time.

I can do most things, but I have problems when going from lying to sitting or vice versa, feeding the dogs, picking up anything, rolling over, and walking in a straight line is pretty much out too. I seem to lose my balance pretty easily and list a little when I walk. I guess you could say I stagger now. It gives me a queasy feeling in my stomach, probably because I am prone to motion sickness. I have always hated rides that spin, and having one inside my head is not my idea of a good time.

I'm not just telling you all of this just to complain. I merely want to inform you of the symptoms of vertigo, and urge you to go with lactose intolerance, or premature gray, or even halitosis if you have a choice.

Mom, is that you?

Yesterday morning I had an admin day. I finished a big job on Thursday and had to make phone calls, pay bills, and of course like all good admins, stack wood! I was sitting on the couch in my P.J.s and my Dogs were out on the deck catching some morning rays.
My dogs bark at every car and walker that passes by the foot of my long driveway. They put me on full alert when someone new even enters the zip code, so I don't pay much attention to the frequent half-hearted rounds of territorial barking, but then they went code red! I got up and walked out onto the deck and saw a van pulling up the driveway. One of those metallic green Dodge Caravans that half the population owns, one exactly like Mom's.

Hmm, I Wonder what Mom is doing here so early, and unannounced, I mused. The van pulled up and parked sideways to the deck and I saw an elderly woman in the passenger side window. That's odd, I thought, Mom wouldn't bring someone up here without warning me. Then the side door swung open, a gaggle of well-dressed old ladies peered up at me through five sets of thick glasses. "Hello. We're bible teachers!" the closest one yelled up. By this time Cody, my twelve and a half year old, cute as a button, yellow dog who has never bitten anyone, had reached the driveway and was heading toward the van, still barking.
"Stay in the van!" I shouted holding out my arms to emphasize the point. "I wouldn't want anyone to get bit!" They eyed Cody nervously. Winston, my ninety pound Newfie mix, who can't use stairs, but they didn't know that, was barking from up on the deck.

They continued to shout from the van, something about confidence, when I yelled back down, "I'll vote my confidence. Thanks, have a nice day! Peace be with you!" They got the message, slid the door shut and retreated. I wondered if it was possible that someone who read my Sarah Palin post had called (1-800-Bible-Thumpers) and sent them to save me. In my opinion it was the dogs who saved me. All those years of buying kibble finally paid off!

Oh Gina!

See more Gina Gershon videos at Funny or Die

Snort! giggle, this is good!

It Had to Be Done

I don't usually get all political on this blog, but I'm scared. Yes, I'm truly frightened by Sarah Palin, to my core. I know that I am not saying anything new here, but I can remember clearly back in 2004 thinking...There's NO WAY that idiot is going to get re-elected, and here we are. Our country is in the worst shape it's been in since the depression.

Palin made an interesting statement the other day about how everyone who wanted to vote for Hilary could vote for her now, and they'd still be voting for a woman. My God! Glenda and the Wicked Witch of the West were both women too. Interchangeable? I don't think so.

I also have a fondness for the statement, "We're fighting God's war!" A religious zealot is a zealot no matter what religion! You've got to be joking me. Are we seriously considering putting this puppy eating, Bambi shooting, ex-beauty queen into a powerful political office? An office second to the presidency, with a crusty old guy about to keel over any minute? Do it, and watch all the gays who so quickly registered for marriage licenses and domestic partnerships get herded up and sent of to the gas chamber as another part of "God's war". Yes, I'm talking to you, Gay Republicans!!! Wake up! Before it's too late.

For more of my opinions on this subject, given in a funnier way, by a more intelligent and better looking woman, click Susan Norfleet's link there on the right of my page.

Don't forget to vote, like your life depended on it!

If you are unfamiliar with Sarah Palin, let me introduce you:

Important, wise words...Subject: Eve Ensler on Sarah Palin

Eve Ensler, the American playwright, performer, feminist and activist best known for 'The Vagina Monologues', wrote the following about Sarah Palin.


Drill, Drill, Drill


I am having Sarah Palin nightmares. I dreamt last night that she was a member of a club where they rode snowmobiles and wore the claws of drowned and starved polar bears around their necks. I have a particular thing for Polar Bears. Maybe it's their snowy whiteness or their bigness or the fact that they live in the arctic or that I have never seen one in person or touched one. Maybe it is the fact that they live so comfortably on ice. Whatever it is, I need the polar bears.


I don't like raging at women. I am a Feminist and have spent my life trying to build community, help empower women and stop violence against them. It is hard to write about Sarah Palin. This is why the Sarah Palin choice was all the more insidious and cynical. The people who made this choice count on the goodness and solidarity of Feminists.


But everything Sarah Palin believes in and practices is antithetical to Feminism which for me is part of one story -- connected to saving the earth, ending racism, empowering women, giving young girls options, opening our minds, deepening tolerance, and ending violence and war.


I believe that the McCain/Palin ticket is one of the most dangerous choices of my lifetime, and should this country chose those candidates the fall-out may be so great, the destruction so vast in so many areas that America may never recover. But what is equally disturbing is the impact that duo would have on the rest of the world. Unfortunately, this is not a joke. In my lifetime I have seen the clownish, the inept, the bizarre be elected to the presidency with regularity.


Sarah Palin does not believe in evolution. I take this as a metaphor. In her world and the world of Fundamentalists nothing changes or gets better or evolves. She does not believe in global warming. The melting of the arctic, the storms that are destroying our cities, the pollution and rise of cancers, are all part of God's plan. She is fighting to take the polar bears off the endangered species list. The earth, in Palin's view, is here to be taken and plundered. The wolves and the bears are here to be shot and plundered. The oil is here to be taken and plundered. Iraq is here to be taken and plundered. As she said herself of the Iraqi war, 'It was a task from God.'



Sarah Palin does not believe in abortion. She does not believe women who are raped and incested and ripped open against their will should have a right to determine whether they have their rapist's baby or not.



She obviously does not believe in sex education or birth control. I imagine her daughter was practicing abstinence and we know how many babies that makes.



Sarah Palin does not much believe in thinking. From what I gather she has tried to ban books from the library, has a tendency to dispense with people who think independently. She cannot tolerate an environment of ambiguity and difference. This is a woman who could and might very well be the next president of the United States. She would govern one of the most diverse populations on the earth.



Sarah believes in guns. She has her own custom Austrian hunting rifle. She has been known to kill 40 caribou at a clip. She has shot hundreds of wolves from the air.


Sarah believes in God. That is of course her right, her private right. But when God and Guns come together in the public sector, when war is declared in God's name, when the rights of women are denied in his name, that is the end of separation of church and state and the undoing of everything America has ever tried to be.



I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S., but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression.



If the Polar Bears don't move you to go and do everything in your power to get Obama elected then consider the chant that filled the hall after Palin spoke at the RNC, 'Drill Drill Drill.' I think of teeth when I think of drills. I think of rape. I think of destruction. I think of domination. I think of military exercises that force mindless repetition, emptying the brain of analysis, doubt, ambiguity or dissent. I think of pain.



Do we want a future of drilling? More holes in the ozone, in the floor of the sea, more holes in our thinking, in the trust between nations and peoples, more holes in the fabric of this precious thing we call life?





Eve Ensler

September 5, 2008

A New Rant:

Is there some reason why my post has to begin halfway down the page?

I know I've been gone for all of August, but have I really missed that much?!

A friend of mine recently made a comment: She claimed to be apoplectic about Sarah Palin and wants to volunteer for Obama -- in a red state.

Naturally I ran straight to the dictionary to see what the hell that word meant! These are the actual results.

8 results for: apoplectic

Browse Nearby Entries

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) - Cite This Source - Share This ap·o·plec·tic Audio Help /ˌæpəˈplɛktɪk/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[ap-uh-plek-tik] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation

–adjective Also, ap·o·plec·ti·cal.

1.	of or pertaining to apoplexy.

2.	having or inclined to apoplexy.

3.	intense enough to threaten or cause apoplexy: an apoplectic rage.

–noun

4.	a person having or predisposed to apoplexy.

---

[Origin: 1605–15; <>apoplécticus <>apopléktikós pertaining to a (paralytic) stroke, equiv. to apóplékt(os) struck down (verbid of apoplssein) + -ikos -ic]

Now maybe it's just me, but that didn't help me much. Weren't we told in school that you can't use the word or form of the word in the definition? WTF kind of definition is that? It's like saying:

Rhythmic: Having rhythm. Or Hatred: Hating someone or something, to hate. To be hateful.

I was finally able to pin the feeling I was experiencing toward the dictionary definition down. I was apoplectic about it!

***Okay, When I previewed my post I saw the reason why I couldn't start my text at the top of the page. There was a freaking add running there. On my blog post! I didn't put it there! Has this happened to anyone else? What is going on?

Red Mojo's Rant: The Bank!

You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille...

I sold my beloved Lucille in order to avoid setting up shop in a cardboard box just down the street from the enchanting but foul smelling turrets lady downtown. I sold her on eBay (the bike, not the turrets lady) and a very nice firefighter from a neighboring state won the auction.

Although he was very excited about getting such a great deal (approx. $6,000 less than I had invested in it) on such a gorgeous bike, it took him over three weeks to come pick it up and pay for it. Meanwhile, my money stress was growing with each passing day. I would wake up in the morning and run to the window to see if my truck was still in the driveway!



As payment, he gave me two certified bank checks, one for around $3,000 from his credit union, and one for around $12,000 from the bank that issued him a loan. I took them to the ATM, signed them, and deposited them immediately, it was close to 2:00 when he finally left. I figured since they were bank checks they wouldn't take long to clear.
The following Monday I transferred the bulk of the money into the account I pay things out of, and started electronically making payments. A week after I had made the deposit I saw the money get zapped back out of the account I'd transferred it to. Everything was about to hit, and the money was gone! I transferred the money back, sure that if it hadn't cleared when the transfer went through the first time, it would be cleared now. The time frame on an out of state bank check is "up to " 5 days.



The next day, six banking days after the deposit, the check still hadn't cleared. The seventh day, I went to the bank. They said the check was lacking a signature. I'm the only one on my account, I protested. They went and got a copy of the check, it had my name and the guy's name who gave me the check! His name shouldn't be on there! I felt stupid for not noticing that it was, but here's the kicker. The bank pulled the check the day after I deposited it. That was Thursday. Friday was a holiday, so it went out in the mail on Monday, and was mailed to my business address, a UPS box I only check if I'm expecting something.



"When a certified bank check for $12,000.00 dollars doesn't go through, you guys don't make a phone call? You just put it in the mail? Didn't it occur to you that there would be things coming in against those funds? That's a lot of money, it's not like it was a personal check for 50 bucks! Now there are all kinds of returned check fees, insufficient funds fees...is this how you guys make your money?! If someone had notified me on Thursday, maybe I could have done something to cover this, and I certainly could have taken care of it by now!" I said with my teeth clenched and veins popping out of my forehead, and sweat forming a glistening coat all over me!



"Come back on Monday, and you can sit down with a customer service rep. and get all the charges taken care of." the teller said, trying to calm me down and get me to leave peacefully. I did, but I really must write the rant!

The Closet Doesn't Fit Anymore!

Back before Stonewall, and even after for many years, "gay" was barely visible. People worked hard, some very hard at hiding their true selves from the world. Why? Discrimination. A known homosexual could be fired, denied housing, bashed, beaten, or raped and no one would bat an eye. Often gays would be identified by other gays hoping to throw suspicion off of themselves. The old pot calling the kettle black thing.

Anti-discrimination laws don't exactly protect us, but it was a step in the right direction. I grew up in a time when being gay was still considered deviant, sick behavior by most. We didn't have gay characters on TV, with the possible exception of the spineless traitor Dr. Smith on Lost in Space, but we never really knew for sure. We didn't have pride parades, or community centers, or websites, or movies, or dating sites. We did have unmarked doors down dark alleys that opened to the secret world of lesbians or gays, or sometimes both. They were usually located in undesirable parts of town, and were subject to raids and other forms of harassment.

Many gay men and women married, to throw others off the scent. Then had their secret lovers discretely on the side. Today, this is certainly no longer necessary. Gay folks are more visible than ever, and while we are still fighting for equal rights in every state in this country but Massachusetts and California, we have made great strides against the fear and ignorance we faced just thirty years ago.

When I was in the military, I had a marriage of convenience myself. This was the only way I could live off post. I had a girlfriend, and sneaking her into the barracks was more than a little risky. I married a gay guy and was allowed to live off post. Breaking this ridiculous rule seemed justified to me. I wasn't even supposed to be in the military, and could have been dishonorably discharged if anyone could prove I was gay. It would have been easy to prove, but no one was really trying.

This weekend while in New York, some friends and I had dinner at a nice restaurant on the Hudson river. There were six of us total, three guys and three girls and I would say it was not a secret to anyone nearby that we were all gay! I saw a woman at the end of the bar giving me the once over more than once. I met her eyes, and smiled politely. She was quite attractive, and did a little check to make sure her pockets causing any unsightly bulges in her tight fitting black jeans, then looked back to see if I was still watching her.

Friend: She's straight!

Me: No she isn't.

Friend: Yes she is. She's married. She and her husband own this place, and you should see him. What a flamer!

Me: She might be married, but she's not straight! We just had a conversation with our eyes, and this is not my first time on this ride.

Friend: Ha! No, you could blog about that!

Me: Shut the fuck up!

The woman came over to our group and introduced herself, standing right by me, and shaking my hand firmly. I think I was the only one out all six, she hadn't already met. She asked if we'd like to sit outside, if we did there would be a wait, or inside. If we wanted to stay in the bar she could seat us now, and she'd prefer to be able to "keep an eye on us" she said looking directly at me when she said it.

We did sit in the bar, but I gave the woman no encouragement. I would not want to be the discrete lover a married, in the closet woman, no matter how attractive she might be. I'm sure there must be a reason for the arrangement, but I would not want to live in her world. I am out and plan to stay out. I'm here, I'm queer, and I don't care who knows it!

Red Mojo's Rant: RMV

Every time I have to do something at the Registry of Motor Vehicles, I am completely and utterly astounded at how difficult they make it for you to be legal here. Although I have many horror stories to tell, I will limit myself to my current plight.

Let me start by saying I'm self-employed and the precise flow of my income is not always predictable, or within my control. A while back I had less money than I needed at bill paying time, so I paid the most important ones first. Well, my bad for not putting auto insurance in that pile, because when I went to pay it, two days after the due date, I was informed that my insurance had been canceled. The bill was $211.oo How could you cancel me just like that? I've been a good customer for years, isn't that a bit harsh. That's what the state makes us do, automatically when it goes past the due date, explained my insurance company.

Ins. Agent: "We can reinstate you, but we need the whole year up front, that would be $1958.00 "

Me: "Oh, is that all! Well, if I didn't have $211.00 two days ago, what makes you think I've got a couple thousand extra just kicking around today?"

Ins. Agent: *crickets*

Me: "So, that's my only option, all or nothing?"

Ins. Agent: "yes, that's what we are required to get once you've had your policy canceled, it's that way with all large companies."

Me: "Well, I don't have it, for you or anyone else. Thanks for your time. Bye."

I receive the notice from the RMV that my plates all need to be turned in immediately unless I can show proof of insurance. I can't, and I don't. If I can't drive, I can't work. If I can't work, I can't pay for insurance or anything else. What am I supposed to do? I know if I get caught driving on dead tags, they'll impound my vehicle. I risk it. I have to, I have no choice. I'm like a freaking criminal in the state of Massachusetts now, all because I was two days late paying my insurance bill! It's incredible.

It's always completely blown my mind the penalty for not having enough money is, a fine. You don't have what you owe, pay an additional fee. The poorer you are, the more they take from you. How is that okay?

Today, I finally had enough to go to the insurance company and bleed $1958.00 dollars on them. Then I had to go to the RMV and give them a check for $100.00 to get my tags re-registered. They did that and gave me my re-registration paperwork, and away I went. When I got home, I noticed the registration expiration date for the truck was already past. I remember trying to renew my registration on line, but of course it didn't fly because the tags were dead. I couldn't believe they let me walk out of there with an "expired re-registered registration"!

I went on line to try to renew and I got an email back saying, Sorry, you can't renew that registration on line.

I called the 800 number which put me in a voice system that never gave me the option I wanted, so I hit 0 and it started over. And it kept starting over and over every time I pressed 0. Well, as is my nature, I got frustrated and hit 0 about 50 times, and as silly as it sounds, that little temper fit, got me exactly what I wanted. I was now on hold for a representative. I waited a long time, and finally got through. After explaining it all, I was placed on hold while she called the location I had visited today. She came back and apologized that they'd missed that and said she'd take my payment over the phone, so we did that. Now, if I get pulled over, I'll still get a ticket for not having the sticker, but my vehicle won't be impounded for not being registered! I guess that's as happy an ending as I can get for $2,100.00 and half my day. And, I was happily informed that if I wanted to blow another work day out my ass, I could always contest the ticket.

How to Stay Single Without Really Trying

The best ways to meet women:

When I was in my twenties, I met all my girlfriends in bars. We were all there. It was our social network. Many of the girls I dated back then, have grown into wildly successful women. I did know how to pick 'em, just didn't have a clue how to hold on to them.

Once you're in your thirties, the women you meet in bars, have a much lower chance of attaining wild success. And by the time you are in your forties, the wild success ship has pretty much sailed. Of course there is the occasional fluke, the I only go out with my friends once every two years, and this is the night, kind of fluke, but lets be realistic. The over forty hanging out the bar crowd is probably not the "A" group.

There are friends of friends, but you have to be careful with that, because if things turn sour, you could be giving up your friends who were slightly more entrenched with her than you, and inviting you both to gatherings, would just be awkward.

There's the Internet. There are tons of "lesbian" dating sites now. I have yet to have one of these adventures turn out well. First there's the email stage. I usually don't make it past this stage because my sense of humor doesn't play well in an email to someone who's never met me. They don't know how to take me, and get all weirded out. I actually had one woman claim I frightened her. Yes, frightened, through email, wow, that's how smooth an operator I can be.
My way of resolving this was trying to meet someone as quickly as possible after the initial interest was shown.

"Hi, Yes I do have my own business, and my boss is an asshole. I think it's great that you love long walks on the beach, and starry nights, and fireplaces. Who the hell doesn't? We should meet!"

I was able to do this with limited success, and upon meeting the women, found I was not impressed, and never feel the need to give false hope, so I kept the meetings short and sweet. "Nice to meet you...bye."

I met one woman who was attractive, which I liked. She had a five year old boy, which I liked. She was nice, and we seemed to hit it off. She was a bit weird, but I chalked it up to nerves. We saw each other a few times, and the weirdness never went away, the odor of desperation crept in, and it occurred to me that she was not the sharpest tool in the shed, also she didn't get my humor, even after meeting me. Not good! After I told her I didn't think it was going to work, I saw a new psycho-scary-head-revolving side of her, that I kind of liked, but still, I thought I'd made the right decision.

There are activities one enjoys, mine is golf. I golf in a women's league. There are 160 women in the league, about a third are gay, and a small percentage of those are single. I haven't made any headway there at all. Of all the women, I really only interact within the same 16 each week, and one of them is me!

There's my job. I meet women, usually women who own a home together, not singles loaded with money who own their home and want the kitchen remodeled, and think I'm all that!

The grocery store hasn't really been paying off, and neither has the driving range, or the ATM machine. I can't really meet anyone at the gas station, because I'm usually weeping while I pump, and those are about all the places I go.

I think over 40 speed dating would be fabulous. I could have 15 or 20 first dates in one night. I can tell within 5 or 2 minutes, or whatever the time frame is that you talk to each participant, if that is someone I'd like to know more about or not.

I'd only have to get dressed up in "first date wear" once, for all those first dates! That's huge!

I haven't heard about this kind of thing taking place around here, although I'm sure I can't imagine why not. I may have to actually be the one to organize it, just so I can do it, that seems like a lot of work, so I'll probably just bitch about it on my blog!

Winnie! The Poo...

Last night after dinner I let the dogs out as usual and when Winston affectionately known as Winnie, came back in, the smell of dog-doo filled the kitchen. Oh my god, he must've stepped in it or something, and he was trotting off toward the rug as quickly as his soiled little feet would carry him. Of course by little, I mean large!

"Winston! Come here!" I called out in a panic. I ducked into the bathroom and grabbed one of the "dog towels" and spread it out on the floor. He walked all around it, careful not to step on it trying to get to me. Finally I was able to grab him and navigate him ONTO the towel. I wiped each of his feet on it, and nothing came off, but the odor was stronger than ever.

Fearfully I looked in the direction of his butt, and lo and behold there it was, lots of it, soft and hanging is his long hair and on his tail. I pulled the towel off the floor and attempted to reach toward the offending end of the dog. Winnie doesn't like anyone including other dogs to go near that area. He has a strange social phobia for a dog. I tried again, he ran away from me.

I gave chase through the living room swiping at him when was within range. He ran around in circles to avoid contact, and little pieces were dislodging and flying all around the room and onto the rugs. I was expending a lot of energy and went through quite a selection of towels. I never worked so frickin hard to do something that so deeply repulsed me in my whole life.

Finally, he laid down and let me finish trying to clean him up. I was down to wash cloths by that time. Then I had to run around with a scrub brush and soapy water looking for all the little spatters throughout the kitchen and living room. Ah, the joys of pet ownership. Tomorrow, Winston is getting his summer hair cut!

Virtually Me

When I joined facebook...I was a little afraid it might eat my life. I set up my profile and kind of left it for a while. I collected a few friends and went in there every so often to accept things, and add new applications, it was all pretty manageable. I even started a "green patch" to help save the rain forest. That is a worthwhile use of my time while I drink my coffee in the morning.

Recently, someone, I won't mention any names here, sent me an invitation to YoVille. A virtual town where you create your virtual you, and wander around interacting with others, trying to make some money so you can fix up your apartment.

Okay, this seems kind of fun. I have an apartment, very plain and boring with a living room, bedroom and kitchen. No one pees in YoVille. There's a coffee shop, and when you buy coffee you move faster. There's a diner, where you get your energy, a clothing store so you can look hip. They have a furniture store for all the stuff you need to make your place cool, and a flower shop. The night club where you can go buy a drink and things get blurry and your character is harder to control, and a widget factory where you work. You can only report to work and get paid every six hours (real time). It takes a long time to get enough coin to buy what you want, but you can also earn money by playing tic-tac-toe, or rock paper scissors with the other cartoon people.

When I went to make my virtual me, I had issues with the choices they offered for a female virtual person. My AOL weemee is a girl, and it looks pretty much like me...


Note the short hair, the well hidden breasts, but they are there, and of course the ever-present coffee cup letting people know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is me! I even change clothes to suit the time of year.

In YoVille, none of the girl's hair choices looked anything like my hair! None of the clothing options were clothing I'd wear, and even the super curvy body shape (the same for all the girls) did not resemble my body at all. I decided to use the male character, so it would at least be close to what I really look like. I named my character "tom-boi". Boi is the gay way to say, boyish girl. Not in the bull-dyke, I want to be a guy, kind of way, but in the, I'm a girl who does stuff boys do, kind of way. Anyway...this is what I ended up with.
So, I'm confusing some people in the game. Some of the young girls come throwing themselves at me, so I tell them I'm a gay woman, and they scatter like roaches. It's actually funny to watch. I went to the nightclub, and said, "Hi, I'm a lesbian. Did anyone notice a gay bar in town, because I can't find it?" Little virtual people actually ran away from me! Some left the bar completely. I had this large empty radius around me, so I made my character dance.

Despite the cold reception I've gotten in YoVille, I am addicted to the game. Why? Because it's about fixing up your place. That's right down my alley. Here's what I mean. When you start, your bedroom looks like this:


Now, my bedroom looks like this:




So, Obviously I have been working hard at playing my virtual life. Of course, sacrifices must be made, so my real life is in a hopeless downward spiral. The virtual me is just as obsessive-compulsive as the actual me. Why would I do that? Tic-tac-toe anyone?

Offended By the Easily Offended!

Political Correctness; I am for it, and against it!

When it comes to stereotypes and broad generalizations, I think we all know that that's wrong, but we also know that most stereotypes are based in fact. It may not be true of all of the people in that classification, but it's true of a lot of them, or was at one time.

When it comes to advertising slogans, spokes models, or signage, all kinds of groups protest all kinds of things. The same is true about characters in the media. Casting the stereotypical gay guy, or construction worker, or Beemer driving ass-wad, pisses people off. I get it. I even understand it, and would like it to change. But when it comes to humor, let it go a little, I mean come on. The funniest stuff is based in fact, and the fact is, the stereotypes are at least partly true...admit it!

Not all men are only interested in sex. Not all fathers try to get you to pull their finger. Not all mother-in-laws are horrible control-freaky-bitches. Not all hillbilly's have had sex with a family member. Not all gay guys secretly want to be Barbara Streisand or Cher. Not all CPAs are socially inept nerds. Not all rednecks are homophobes.

I can't tell you how many times I've almost been run off the road by a vehicle, and before I could get a visual of the driver, I would say to myself, "Please don't be Asian, please don't be Asian", and when I finally see the driver...Asian! Do Lesbians really wear a lot of flannel shirts? Maybe not as much now, but there was a time, and most lesbians I know still have a flannel or two in their closet...

I was at a party a couple years ago with a bunch of lesbians, and had recently relocated from California to the very lesbianish uptighty community of Northampton. I was telling a story which required me to describe a t-shirt. The ribbed tank top kind, which my friends and I always called a "wife-beater". When this expression came out of my mouth it was like that scene at a party where the needle scratches across the record and everything stops, and people stare at you in disbelief and horror. I was immediately scolded for my use of that term, and I scrambled to correct myself, and finish the story which suddenly seemed stupid and pointless.

I do issue a warning at the top of blog stating this blog is not for the easily offended, and is for the socially retarded, and this is why. I have a rule, it is a universal rule for humor, or it should be. The rule is: If it's twice as funny as it is mean...it's okay to say!

The accuracy of this chart is heavily dependant upon your "sense" of humor. My blog fits neatly into the blue when I write it. I follow the rule. If you are heartinsanfrancisco who's sense of humor is my sense of humor's identical twin, you know that this is true. If you are someone who does not share my humor perspective, some of this may dip into the yellow for you. I'm still okay because I did issue that warning I mentioned earlier. If you think that I am in that grey area, well...we aren't a good fit dear reader. Perhaps you should seek you humor elsewhere. Don't leave mad, just leave!

Lesbian to English Dictionary

Lesbians have a culture and a language all their own. As a lesbian, you don't realize this until you are trapped in a room full of straight people and try to engage in conversation with them. Not small talk, but a real conversation.

In season 4 of The L-Word this was demonstrated by a game of celebrity played by a room filled half with lesbians and half with straight men and women. Celebrity is a game where everyone writes down the names of celebrities on separate pieces of paper, they are all thrown into a hat. Two teams are formed, one person on the team draws a name and has one minute to give clues that would lead the team to guessing the name.

The two different cultures didn't even know many of the other's "celebrities". Yes, they are all famous, but more famous within different groups.

I have always found that being around my lesbians is so much more enjoyable to me because they "get" me. They understand my references, and my humor and they can accurately assess what I'm saying.

Here's what I mean:

"Face" Your Fears

When I was a wee lesbian of four, my older wiser five year old friend, Satan, dared me to pet a neighborhood stray dog that was busily eating a bone. It was a black retriever mix, and we had always had dogs and I had no reason to fear this one. I reached my hand out toward the dog, and faster than you could say "years of therapy" that dog was attached to my face, by it's teeth. To my bottom lip to be exact, and it did not want to let go. I thought to myself, what should a four-year-old do in the situation? So I let out a blood-curdling scream. Kimmy, the evil five year-old ran towards my house, yelling for my mom. We were in the neighbors yard raiding his rhubarb prior to the dare.

My mom came running out in her robe with her hair up in curlers, swinging a broom, and bellowing some kind of sadistic war cry as she pummeled the animal into releasing me and getting the hell out of Dodge. I could not have been more embarrassed, but since I was in dyer need of saving, I decided not to make a big deal out of it at the time. She ran to the Kimmy's house with me in her arms. I had hopes of revenge in my tear filled eyes, but instead a wet wash cloth was jammed into my mouth, and Kimmy's Dad was frantically driving us somewhere while my mother said things like, "What happened? No, don't talk!" We got turned away from a couple places before finding a doctor willing to stitch me up. Even then, doctors were afraid of law suits and facial stitchery was a dangerous area for them.

I told you that so I could tell you this. I love animals, I've always had dogs and would risk my life to save one, even one I don't know, but if a dog is acting aggressively towards me, I get scared.

When I was in high school I had a friend named Sally. Sally was cool, she played the guitar, she was gay, in fact you could say she was the Melissa Etheridge of our neighborhood. She had a dog. A large German Shepard named Bear. Bear was always on a chain in the side yard. Every time a group of us would walk past Bear, everyone would greet him, "Hi Bear." they'd all say walking by while he sat and watched the line of girls pass, but when it was my turn, the phrase wouldn't even be halfway out of my mouth, and he'd spring at me, held back by the chain, straining and growling and barking at me. I did not know what I'd done to offend him, but thanked the heavens for that chain.

One day I went to see Sally. I arrived, and went to the front door to knock. I was standing there after knocking and peeked around the corner to get a visual of Bear. He was not there, but he had to be...I knocked again, no answer I turned to go down the stairs and who came trotting around the corner to greet me? You guessed it. Bear, unfettered and larger than life. The second I saw him, I felt the rush of adrenaline course through me. I must've been beet red. I said to myself, this is it, I'm going to die now. I decided since I was surely about to be eaten alive, I'd let him start with my hand, so I held it out... as an appetizer. Bear sniffed it rather than digging right in, and then licked it. Slowly, I sat down on the step and began to pet him. We became friends, he never growled and barked at me again, what the hell was that about anyway?

My Hospital Trip

Some random guy-definitely not me!

It happened late Wednesday night. I felt sick, it was around midnight. I got up and went to the bathroom, I found myself wondering which end to point at the toilet. "This is a bad situation", I thought. I decided to have a seat, and grab the waste basket. I was in intense pain, that made my cry out and I began to sweat profusely. This lasted for quite a while. It must be food poisoning, I reasoned to myself. I went to bed and in the morning, of course felt sick again, I still had intense intestinal pain and this time I noticed blood. Quite a bit of it, and an hour later, I had to go again, this time...all blood. I was scared. I called my Mom and told her about what was going on. I'd had dinner with my parents and wanted to find out if they felt sick too.

My sister has Crohn's disease, so of course my mother had me diagnosed with that in about 3 minutes. I was more of the wait and see, because I'm not dead yet school of thought. I made it through the rest of the day, but the next morning, I felt like dying. Mom called to see how I was, and when I told her, the conversation went like this...

Mom: I'm coming to get you and you're going to the hospital. This is nothing to screw around with, you could die.

Me: No, I don't want to go today...

Mom: What day are you going to want to go?

Me: (chuckling painfully) Never...Maybe I just need antibiotics.

Mom: You don't know that. You have to go to the hospital. I'm coming to get you!

Me: At least give me some time to prepare, and pay some bills and call people I have dealings with in the next couple of days...how about after lunch, say, 1:00?

Mom: I'll see you at one. Pack a bag, they are going to admit you. We'll take care of the dogs.

Okay, this seems manageable, that's what you're thinking right now...right? All except for one teeny tiny little detail. I have an unreasonable fear of hospitals and doctors, and, well...all things medical. I'm the polar opposite of a hypochondriac, I never feel sick, or if I do, I don't believe it hard enough to make it go away. Something literally has to fall off my body, for me to admit there's a problem, and if I could, I'd just staple it back on, rather than go see someone about it.

One of my greatest fears is being in the hospital to have my tonsils out, and waking up to find one of my legs amputated. I do not have a great deal of faith in medical professionals, and I have never ever had surgery, or been admitted to a hospital. The very idea of this sends me into a full fledged panic.

Maybe a cocktail or two with lunch, maybe I could just hide, or leave until my mother goes away.

These all seem reasonable to me. I begin to make phone calls and cancellations, and explain that I'm going to the hospital, which sounds like a death sentence to me every time I say it, "Yeah, I'm going to the gallows in a couple of hours, so...I can't make our appointment tomorrow."

I decide to go ultimately, because the pain is stronger than the fear. We get to the emergency room and before too long, I am in an examination room. I am told to remove all of my clothing and put on the gown. The dreaded gown, with the opening in the back. The gown that you see on terminally ill people with tubes and machines hooked up to them, that gown. I tell my story to several people and am forced to answer very detailed questions about my poo. This too, is painful. I get to enjoy a rectal exam, and they take blood, I am poked and prodded, my vitals are being taken repeatedly, and then they bring me a large container of orange fluid. I'm told to drink 8oz of this every 15 minutes over the next hour and half, and then they'll come get me for a cat-scan. They also leave me a plastic specimen container called a hat, that they'd like me to fill. I am delighted with the request but don't seem to be able to comply, not then, and not for my entire stay.

I was in the little room for 8 hours. After the cat-scan the doctor came and told me it was infectious colitis, and they were going to admit me. They did not yet know what caused it, but seven inches of my intestines were inflamed. They put me on an IV, and know I was one of those people wandering around in a gown with a metal coat rack on wheels that has bags of goop hanging off it that are attached by tubes to your arm. It's like a nightmare. I feel like I'm in an episode of The Twilight Zone. After the Doctor leaves, I begin to cry. My mom hugs me and tells me it'll be alright. I feel like a total baby. They take me to my room, and I am relieved to find that it's empty. It's just me, thank god!

I was moved into my room at 10:00pm. They took my vitals, I met the nurse, met the doctor, they did an assessment, hooked me up to more hanging goo, and promised me something for the pain, and something to help me sleep. I needed both. At 11:00 there was a shift change, so they took my vitals, did an assessment, I met the new nurse, and the new doctor, I asked for the meds for pain and sleep, they had to check...I asked a few more times, and finally at 1:30am they brought me the pills. I got to sleep at around 2:00am. At 4:30am they wheeled in my room-mate. A Hispanic woman who seemed to be in great pain. They turned on all the lights, they talked in tones you'd expect to hear outside, not in tones one would want in a room where someone is trying to sleep. There were about 900 people setting her up and she was moaning and groaning loudly and chanting "dios mio". I felt sorry for her, yes, but I wanted to sleep...

I got back to sleep at around 5:00am, but was awakened by a screaming baby in the room across the hall a half-hour later. I got up and wheeled my coat rack over to shut the door which was left wide open with all the lights and noises of the non-stop busy hallway flooding in.

I dozed off again just in time for a someone to wake me up so they could take more blood. That was at 6:00am. I hoped to sleep a while longer when my room-mate began to hurl, and in a very noisy way. I cannot hear this without joining in, kind of like yawning, so I quickly grabbed my ipod and jammed it in my ears cranking the volume to avert the disaster. Then more vitals, another assessment, more new staff...they brought me a menu, and wanted me to choose my meals for the next couple of days. I filled it all out, and someone came around to collect it. The doctor (a specialist) came in to examine me, and he told me about the possibilities and probabilities. They brought me a liquid lunch, said the doctor had put me on a liquid diet, so I drank my meals and didn't get any of the food I had carefully selected earlier.

Some friends came to visit me, and by that time I was unfettered, so we went for a walk around the hospital. I was in my own pajamas by this time. When I returned my extremely noisy room-mate was being relocated. Yahooo...peace. They left, and then around dinner time some more friends stopped in. They were on their way out to dinner, and felt bad when they saw my unappetizing tray of liquids. So did I.

I was feeling a lot better, and didn't have much pain anymore, but I made sure I got my sleeping pill before the shift change. I was exhausted. I shut the door and went to sleep, only to get another room-mate at 1:30am. This one was an older woman named Adelaide, but her friends called her Babs, who'd fallen and broken her hip. I officially met her the next morning, and I really liked her. She was quite a character, very funny and a great attitude. The nurses assistants were kind of ignoring her, so I helped her with some tasks, brushing her teeth, eating breakfast, answering the phone. When they told me I could go, she begged me not to.

"I can take you with me, but I've got to go!" I said smiling. It was Mother's Day. I made sure she had people coming to see her, and I got a ride home from some friends. I drove to my parent's house to make my mom dinner and collect my babies (Cody and Winston).

My visit to the hospital was not as bad as I thought it would be in some ways, and much worse than I thought in others. All in all, I'd have been glad to skip it altogether.

My Top Ten Sci-fi Women of All Time...

Creampuff posted her top 10 (8) women of Sci-fi, and needed suggestion for the last two, I found so many I liked, that she didn't have, that I decided to just do my own top 10. I tend to like the kick-assier women, so here they are in no particular order...

1) Kristianna Loken. This should come as no surprise, I have already discussed my Kristianna-crush in great detail. She has a way about her that says, "yeah, I could totally kick your ass, but then again, I might just kiss you."

2) Sharon Stone. Sci-fi or otherwise, Sharon is an obvious favorite. Here she is at forty, looking like she's about to pounce! Are you feeling lucky?

3) Halle Berry. Isn't it obvious?

4. Lucy Liu. Looks like a flower but she stings like a bee... She bangs!

5) Jessica Alba. No Sci-fi's sexiest list is complete without Jessica, leaving her out would really chap my ass! She is amazing, and gorgeous.

6) Linda Hamilton. Yeah, it's the arms, but the eyes, lips, and jaw line aren't doing her any harm either. Don't try sneaking up on her.

7) Milla Jojovich. If you're already dead she'll dispatch you with speed and style. I'm not already dead, but she kills me! She's dead sexy baby.

8) Uma Thurman. She slices and dices, she flips and spins, the way she moves, like a graceful cat, she'll kick your ass, and hand you your hat. Don't let her see you swoon, she'll know you think she hung the moon.

9) Lexa Doig. Hello. Lexa is from Ontario, and is on the Sci-fi show Andromeda. Lexa is short for Alexandra. She's not as well known as the others, but just look at that tummy!

10) Kierra Knightley. She's got more fight than a bag full of kittens, and she's pretty hot, in a Disney kind of way.

*************************************************************************************

Honorable Mention

Pink. She rocks! She's Pink! I love her music, and she can hold her own in mid-evil cool chick gear too, so there you go.

Natural Disasters

There are many types of "natural disasters".

There's the "shart", for those of you who haven't seen "Along Came Polly" it's when you think you're going to fart, but you shit a little.

There's that skin flap that forms under a woman's arms sometime in her 50's usually.

There's showing up at a formal event in the same outfit as a woman your friends all refer to as "the ho-bag".

But the natural disasters I'm writing about are the kind involving weather, and the earth. When someone tells me about a disaster, I find it difficult to not want to compete with them for who's lived through the worst natural disaster. I'm not sure my desire to win this particular competition is natural, or healthy, or smart.

And although it is true that many people have lived through disasters much worse than my best or worst, it is possible that I could still win the coveted "Most Freaked Out By a Natural Disaster Award". The awards ceremony for this particular award is fairly small and low key, and currently it is not being televised. The MFOBANDA nominees are often a rag-tag bunch, straggling along a tan carpet into the school auditorium , which was randomly chosen out of a dirty hat for that year's event. They are often hurt, injured, shell shocked, flinching and wincing as they pass by the disposable camera purchased to record the ceremony for posterity.

You see, about nine months after moving to L.A. I had found my own apartment. It was a small studio apartment. It had one large room, and a small kitchen. A hallway went around a corner to the bathroom, and in that hallway was a built in dresser, and vanity. The living room had a Murphy bed tucked behind a pair of large doors. I had furnished the whole thing with "found" furniture, which I cleaned up and improved as much as I could, and things that had been given to me by various people I'd met who felt pity for me. I was very proud of the fact that I had a pretty nice set up, and hadn't spent any money other than a couple bucks on a few yards of fabric to cover a chair.
But I digress. In the middle of the night, I think it was around 4:00am on January 17th, 1994 the Northridge Earthquake struck L.A. This was my first earthquake and it was a pretty big one. I was awakened by the sensation on laying in the bed of a pick-up truck as it flew down a bumpy dirt road. It was pitch dark, it was loud, I was naked! Everything was falling all around me, things were smashing and breaking. It went on for about 20 seconds, which felt like an hour. When the walls and the ceiling and floor stopped moving, it was still pitch dark. Car alarms were going off everywhere, people were outside the building talking in excited and frightened tones. I was afraid to get off the bed, I'd heard things breaking, I had bare feet. I slowly carefully lowered my feet to floor and felt each step before taking it to the light switch. No power, I picked up the phone, no phone. I needed to find clothes and get dressed and find out what I'm supposed to do! I started to panic, because my apartment was on the ground floor, and from the side of the building someone could easily break a window and step right in, and there I was naked, startled, no way to call the police, no lights, no one else in the building to here me scream. jThe thought of this nearly paralyzed me with fear. It sounded like everyone was outside. I thought I should be out there too. I had some candles, I lit a lighter to find them, and thank god I didn't blow up.

You should never light a match after an earthquake, gas pipes break or leak, but I didn't know. I didn't know how to survive here, it hadn't occurred to me before. I finally got some candles lit and looked around at the destruction. I was in disbelief! Cabinets opened and emptied themselves, even the hall closet threw up all over the place blocking the door. I found clothes and it took me a while but I found shoes too. I moved the pile of crap blocking the door and exited the building. Everyone was out in front of the building telling their story. The whole neighborhood was out there talking to each other and assessing the damage, in L.A. neighbors talking is a strange sight indeed.

There were many aftershocks, smaller but still disturbing earthquakes that followed the initial one. Every one of these made me feel a little sick, and scared. You never want to see a building you're standing in move the way a building moves during an earthquake. After a couple of weeks, the aftershocks were getting very small and not that unsettling. I had a very large avocado tree outside my apartment window, and when we had an aftershock I would run outside and pick up the avocados. I'd call my friend and say, aftershock! I'm making guacamole for the game. I put a big nail by the door and hung my jeans with the wallet in the pocket and a t-shirt on it. I put a pair of shoes just below them on the floor so I could find everything in the dark. i had management fix the closet door so it would latch properly and felt a little more prepared, but shortly after that was when the anxiety attacks started.

I would be on the freeway and traffic would slow to a stop and I'd be sitting their, one car locked in like a puzzle piece with thousands of other cars just sitting there, stuck no way to get out....STUCK. I would start pulling at my clothes because I couldn't breathe and they felt tight around my neck, but they weren't. This feeling, this panic began to extend to any situation where I felt unable to move, being in a large crowd where it was difficult to move or raise my arms, on a bus with people sandwiching me in, anything like that.

You never forget your first earthquake! You never know what will break inside you when you are truly shaken.

MFOBANDA acceptance speech:

First of all, I'd like to thank all the slightly less freaked out people without whom this award would not be mine. I'd like to thank the mental health professionals I've come in contact with for nominating me. Id like to thank the pharmaceutical companies for being there when I needed them, and I'd like to give a shout out to all my peeps who know what I'm talking about!

Playing to Win

Having recently met someone on line who's distance away from me (great), is about equal to my level of interest in her, I have set about the difficult task of trying to figure how to proceed.

The options seem to be:

Thank her for the enchanting email moments, and look for something sharp to throw myself on.

Sell everything netting a huge loss, since home prices have dropped steadily since I bought mine, and show up homeless and penniless on her doorstep.

Win the lottery and fly to her, for, I don't know...maybe three days. See how things go. If they are as good in real life, as they are in glued-to-my-laptop-life, we can do what we want. I 've got millions!

If you're like me, you like the third option best! My dad always says, "Your chances of a freight train falling on your head while you're in the shower are better than your chances of hitting it big in the lottery". I say, good things can happen just as easily as bad things, and people do win. I'm a people, why not me? So I bought three tickets last night. The mega-millions was up to 26 million. I figured I could squeak by on that, so I spent three dollars on a dream. The clerk gave me three separate tickets, instead of 3 picks on one ticket. He said he thought it improved my chances. At least he was on my side! I took that as a good omen. Yep, this time I think I might really win. This could be the one, I can feel it.

They had the drawing last night, and this morning on my way to work I remembered I had those three little tickets in my wallet. I'll check later I thought, because I probably won, and I really do have to finish this job before I go gallivanting off. I'll check later, I don't need the distraction when I'm trying to frame in a doorway. I worked all day, just like one of the common folk, and had dinner with my parents. I didn't really think about the tickets I had tucked away. Tickets, or at least one ticket to a new life, one where I can still build furniture if I want to, but I can do it with all the best tools (like Norm on Old Yankee Workshop) and in a spacious well lit workshop in...Tuscany! When I go, I go big!

I drove home like I always do, singing at the top of my lungs. When I got home I fed the dogs, caught up on all my blog reading, checked my email and then I thought, Hmmm, I should check those tickets! I found the website for the Mega-Millions, I don't have it bookmarked because I only buy lottery tickets 3 maybe four times a year. I got the tickets and put on my glasses, here we go...out of all three tickets, one matching number. Well...maybe next time, why do I think so? I have no idea, and no plans to start wearing my hard-hat in the shower either.