17 posts tagged “laughs”
I can now say that I've been to my first massage therapy class. Luckily, my instructor seems much more knowledgeable than Dr. Nick of The Simpson's fame. He used to be a surgeon in Russia, before his family moved to America. There was of course the inevitable suck up of the class, but everyone else seems pretty "with it". There are only 6 other people in my class. I think the limit per session is 8. For some reason, number 8 didn't show up tonight, therefore leaving us with an odd number. We are actually practicing on one another, so it may throw a bit of a wrench in the classes if #8 is eternally absent. One guy showed up with his brother. His brother actually sat in the hallway for the 3 hr duration of the class. Little strange. When it came time for hands-on work, the instructor invited brother friend to join. We were told to pick our own partners, so I simply gave a nod to the student next to me, leaving the brothers to their own devices. The instructor made a joke and said the waiting brother wanted "the girl" (the girl being me, though there were others), so we paired up.
Ummm, ok. This guy was a little sketchy looking. He also had a very thick NY accent. My first boyfriend was NJ born and bred-from an EXTREMELY sexist background, so I've always had aversion toward true Northerners. I know this is completely wrong, and it usually only takes a few minutes to get over, but here is this random guy and I am instructed to massage his hand!??? He had the word "Truth" scrawled on the webbing between his pointer and thumb in a very unprofessional fashion. Okay, it looked like a prison tatoo. He was very nice though, and I'm sure he was quite harmless. At least now I can say "I have massaged the truth".
One more thing: my instructor was wearing this shirt:
So, as of July 7th, 2007 there are 3 categories of men/guys/manboys in my life.
Type one is the most comical, at the same time the most repelant. These are the creepy men. The men who, for whatever reason give me the willies. Call it intuition. I'm all for giving someone the "benefit of the doubt", however if some of that doubt has to do with the liklihood that they are a serial killer...you know where I'm headed. Some of the creepy guys make it easier on me to detect their freaky ill will. Some of them make it quite clear by either stroking my upper arm in conversation, touching the small of my back, seemingly trying to cast a spell on me with their google eyes. All of these things would be very welcome if they were not CREEPS.
Type two is the most unobservant of the three. They are completely oblivious to the fact that "HEY, I WANNA DATE YOU!". They are cute (perhaps unconventionally), funny, smart and we have good conversation. There is nothing wrong with type two, the reason twosies and I can't get together is because of me. I can't get the guts to get all flirtatious with them. We shall make a tiny home in our little friendship zone, and I might as well be wearing a helmet and football gear, because there is NO way Mr.2 is going to see me as anything resembling Jessica Rabbit or Beyonce
or what have you.
Type 3. I don't really know type three because I won't talk to them. These are the "how did your mamma make you so beautiful?" boys. I'm just afraid. On the off chance that they do talk to me, they will usually have a girlfriend or a severe lack of interest. Type 3 definitely has advantage though. I will cultivate a crush for nearly 6 months before attempting to talk to the "thirds". I know this sounds like stalking, but I assure you no drivebys/detective work is involved. I'm just a rediculously loyal person when I'm interested in someone. When I have, for whatever crazy reason dated a "3", it hasn't worked out, really. I guess I'd consider one person I've dated to be a "3". Bit of a space cadet.
Okay, okay. I know it's not fair for me to generalize all men in this fashion, but it really simplifies things for me. After reviewing this break down, just as I thought, twosies win!
Last night at practice, Robin and I put together a somber waltz I came up with on Wednesday night. Before drifting off to sleep, I began to hum the melody. I started to think it was potentially dangerously close to the oft heard (especially this time of year) wedding march. I knew it was similar, but just couldn't get the tune in my head. I'd start off with the beginning, but kept going into the Imperial March from Star Wars. Wondering if my subconscious is telling me something?
Yesterday as I sat on my porch watching the kids play across the street their grandmother, Rosa walked up to greet me. She asked if I liked jewelry. She must have seen my sparkly new bracelet. I explained that while I was wearing the bracelet, jewelry isn't really "my thing". She mentioned that she's seen me haul my guitar to and from the house and that yeah, I probably wouldn't be into jewelry after all. Her daughter, mother of the children playing in the street has just started to make jewelry, and her mother was looking for potential buyers.
I pointed out how tall her grandaughter Trinity was, for only being two years old. She leaned over and said, "You know what the secret is? Breast milk." We talked about breast feeding, I explained I'd have no idea what it would be like...she asked me if I'd ever plan to have children. I desperately want to have children, but absolutely not now or any time soon. I told her there wasn't a single guy I knew that I liked enough to be his girlfriend, much less have a family. Surprised, she responded, "what about the guy you live with over there?". I kind of chuckled and said, "oh no mamm, we're just old college friends".
We talked about the pros/cons of having a roommate, and she told me of her roomate before her sister moved in. She continued,"He was a mexican. An angel in disguise. He would pay the rent, and then some more. He would go to the grocery store, fix things around the house, anything I needed. He didn't even want sex from me. Didn't come knocking at my bedroom door late at night wantin' to mess around.". First I had to stop myself from laughing at the absurd thought that as a woman, you'd be expected to sleep with a man just because you lived together. I thought it was pretty hilarious/ridiculous and told my roommate once inside. I've thought about this quite a bit today though. I'm curious about the personal experiences that would lead you to believe that in 2007, this mutual understanding (that you don't have to sleep with a man just because you live together) is anything less than commonplace.
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
While making the rounds at K-mart, Target, Bed Bath and Beyond (and beyond), I found this little guy in the water toy section. I couldn't resist planting it in the house in hopes of making my roommate pee himself. He got a nice little surprise this morning while rummaging through his pantry. Too bad I missed the reaction while in the shower. I found the snake on top of the coffee maker later on. He assured me that I'd "really done it", and this would only be the beginning. Can't wait to see what he cooks up. I love pranks!
On a sidenote, I went to 5 different places to find white string lights yesterday. Does anyone know where to find these for less than $15 a strand (ehem, Target) at this time of year?
Over the past year, I've really tried to get better about sending the all-important Thank You card. It really means a lot to the recipent; it's just a super easy way to show your gratitude. In thinking about this lately, I've questioned the rate at which men send these little notes. Are men automatically exempt from this form of edicate, merely obligated to the post-interview thank you? I've never thought to actually ask men how often they do this, but I'm curious. I seriously doubt Hallmark would still be standing today if it weren't for the calendar keeping, address book toting, birthday date jotting sex. It blows my mind when I hear most women say that THEY are the ones who send the Mother's Day cards to the in-laws. Doesn't that strike you as strange? I think one reason I'm so resistant to this whole idea is the fact that I am HORRIFIC when it comes to sending notes of recignition for the monumental dates of those closest to me. I really am trying to get better at this though. I've purchased a purse sized red leather bound planner and instructed my pals to jot down their birthdates. My first step in this mission of thoughtfullness is the thank you card though-baby steps first. Also, it's much easier to remember to send something through the postal service right after someone's helped you to move, bought you a nice scarf, lampshade, concert ticket etc. There is a point at which the "thank you"s can be taken too far. My mom once bought a graduation gift for a family friend. Soon after, the family friend sent a thank you. My mom later mentioned the note in a conversation with this person. Days later, my mom recovered yet another thank you thanking her for thanking the friend for thanking her. Ugh....I know, that was a little redundant, but that's my point.
Here's the sunset on the sound at Topsail. Kristen, Ele, and I went on the very convenient 5 minute walk to the sound to catch the sunset. While waiting for the sun to hit and eventually disappear from the horizon, we took in all of the beauty and discussed something near and dear to our hearts...who was the most/least hot we'd dated in the past. I really couldn't think of anyone I now see as hideous. Of course we've all dated people who give us an unfortunate reaction when thumbing through photo albums, but purely aesthetically speaking...I haven't done TOO bad. Kristen had me dying...telling about the time she dated a "town drunk". Apparently, he was missing a tooth but for whatever reason-Ele always pictured him as having 1 tooth. I then asked, "If you only had one tooth, but could choose if it would be in the front or back, where would it go?". If you answer this based on aesthetics (as I did), you probably said in the back (like a molar). Having that one tooth in the front would bring more attention to your dental shortcomings. Kristen was of the one front tooth school of thought. She said it'd be better for biting. Potato/PotAto.
Ele's blog about caller ID and how we now answer the phone got me thinking about my latest phone delima. This phone to the left here, the Motorolla T720 is the phone I now have. It's totally the TI 82 dinosaur of phones. The model I had was much cuter/efficient, but eventually the screen began to flash whilst trying to call/see who called. At the moment, I'm too poor to buy a new one, so my sister gave me this one she and her hubby had as an extra. For whatever reason, I can't text on this phone but I can RECEIVE texts. At first, it didn't bother me at all. Texting breeds more texting and really, I'd rather not. I find that a lot of guys use texting in dating because they are afraid to just pick up the phone and call. I think this is SO annoying and a TOTAL turnoff. Remember...confidence=sexy. Anyway-when someone does text me now, I HAVE to call them back. My immediate reaction to a texter though, is to text back. I'd like to put in the same amount of effort they did to communicate with me. At the moment though, the only option is to look like a jerk and not respond at all OR having to actually call them. I don't mind this at all with my friends (just know it might take me a while to respond) but in a dating type situation, I detest the chronic texter.
Man oh man, am I in a bitchy mood. After reading up on treatment for my poison ivy (or oak, not really sure), I've attempted a few methods. I've tried calamine (hah!), baking soda paste, and Benedryl. So far, Benedryl works the best, however I'm quite loopy. I'm reminding myself of my social problems professor that suffered from loupus. Funny that the clinical name for that disease is so similar to one of the symptoms. The baking soda paste didn't really do much for me-mainly it just left a trail of white powder as it flaked off throughout the house yesterday. Constantly itching can make you a little short with those around you. This feeling is comprable to when I'm PMSing and feel as if there's a devil inside my head. During this time of the month, if speaking to someone I'd rather not I hear an all too familiar plea chimes in, "shutupshutupwhyareyoutalkingnobodylikesyou....". I know, it sounds horrible-but it's just the hormones. At least this itch will go away soon-as for the montly visitor-I didn't see any cures for that on WebMD.
