Admirer Run-In #1

Remember my not-so-secret admirer? He tracked me down via hand written note, left under my front door. I went on one date with him. And I didn't tell you this part...

The weekend following our date, this Tall Indian Guy (as he refers to himself) texted to see if I would like some wine at his apartment. I know that this is code for something else entirely. While I may be interested in wine, that is where my interest stops with this stalker. So I declined in a clear "No thanks, have a nice weekend" text back.

Well I saw him again yesterday! He was waiting for the elevator when I returned from my run. I was glistening (that's lady-talk for super sweaty). Tall Indian Guy was friendly and polite. He gave me a side-hug even though I was dripping of sweat sparkle. We small talked until the elevator got me to my blessed floor.

If I were to be completely honest with you, which I always am, I'd have to say that: I love first run-ins. I dread them so, but things aren't usually as awkward as I expect. So I prefer to get it over with as soon as possible. I've even had 2 near run-ins with the smelly beard man. I saw him once in Penn Station and once in the subway as he pretended not to notice me. I'm such a big deal that I'm hard to miss, what with all the papa-razzi following and all. Obvi.

Have you had any uber-awkward run-ins? Do tell.

Safety 1st

Crossing the street can be a very dangerous thing to do.

During my morning commute last week, I witnessed a man walking across the street while a turning SUV sped up as if to hit the pedestrian. It was a very near miss, and the pedestrian was angry. I was angry too. This is New York and there are pedestrians everywhere, so drivers need to pay attention lest they hit one. And on the Upper Eastside, I do not tolerate this sort of behavior. Obvi.

Generally though, when a near-miss happens, Mr. Driver realizes that he nearly killed someone and takes a second to apologize or look embarrassed, or at least has the decency to drive off quickly.

Not this time.

This time, Mr. Driver slowed down to yell at the pedestrian! And as the shocked witness, I can tell you that it was clearly the driver's fault in this instance.

This time, Mr. Driver even pulled over and parked. He was clearly looking for a fight but the victim of his recklessness had already escaped, thank God. Fighting on the UES is base and therefore not tolerated. Unless previously contracted and agreed upon by yours truly, or outside of a bar on 2nd Avenue past 11pm.

As the solid citizen that I am, I noted this A$$hole's license plate so that he can be banned from further UES maniacal antics and banished to Midtown where he belongs. Get this... it was a vanity plate!

It read:

RUDE1

I die.

This is so perfect.

And now you know, if someone has a NY plate that says RUDE1, you should egg his black SUV whilst keeping in mind that Mr. Driver is looking for fights and will most likely try to kill you.

This

I've never been a huge country music fan. Admittedly, I get into the poppy sounding stuff. But, for the most part I have no clue what's out there in country-music-ville.

Did you know that Darius Rucker has a new album? Never thinking it was a country sound, I've loved Hootie and the Blowfish for always and forever. Even won tickets from a radio contest to see them in a private(ish) concert a few years ago.

Anywho, I downloaded Darius' new song "This" today and listened to it multiple times.... I'm not saying it is the best song ever or anything, but it spoke to me. And that's what counts.

It has such a message. It hit me and I got the magnitude like woah. Moral of the story: the lyrics are all about how whatever went right in life or wrong in life is what led to this point. I like that.

I'm a huge opponent of the phrase "everything happens for a reason". It is a statement that drives me cra-zy. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. Someday I'll tell you all about it. And I apologize ahead of time for that day. :)

This song, however, is what I think people are trying to say with "everything happens for a reason". That when life happens and things go wrong and big huge moments don't go as planned, hoped, and longed for, we have an opportunity. To grow. To change. To learn and move and pick ourselves up to face another day. And when we do, our lives take a new direction for better or worse. And those new directions lead to this. The now.

I was upset recently because I'd really like to be in a relationship and it just doesn't seem to be working out, nor does it ever work out as planned in my very smart brain. I get so sick of first dates: that nervous uncomfortable feeling, the way I make every goodbye awkward, and how I generally turn out to not like the guy anyway!

I confess that I had a pity-party where I mourned the past and doomed the future. I spilled my guts and my tears with my roomies who helped baby-step me back to reality of life and love, and the life I love.
[aside: maybe I took too many baby-steps, because today I can think of a zillion reasons why I'm happy to be single and not in a relationship. Happy to be in the here and now with me, myself, and I.]

Living in the present moment is practically impossible. I've attempted to do it all my life and still can't seem to stay in today for more than an instant. When I do though, I can be nothing but grateful.

Grateful for my mother.
Grateful for my family and my friends. Who they are and who they have helped me to be.
Grateful for my health and my life.
Grateful for getting past all those terrible days and for the path I took to pass each one by. Whether it be a family emergency, a break-up, a bad haircut, or a pity-party. I'm glad I'm in today rather than those days!

And I know those days will come again. Suffering comes to all.
But for right now I'm grateful.

Pieces of lyrics I liked from "This":
"Maybe it didn't turn out like I planned
Maybe that's why I'm such a lucky man
...
All the doors that I had to close,
All the things I knew but I didn't know
Thank God for all I missed
Cause it led me here to this"

Last night a DJ saved my life

You know how I love me some sweet tunes? Who doesn't. Come on. I've posted in the past about how a certain song can bring me back to a feeling, a moment, a bremory, and an era.

Life changes so much and yet things stay so much the same. I'm in a new genre today. Spanish Rock. Mainly: Mana and Juanes. My coworker is ready to kill me for playing it non-stop. But, that's nothing new. Wink to the wink wink.

In this place in my life, the genre is new bc I never hear it anymore, but really it played a large role in my relationship with my Latin eX-husband. I've been thinking about and talking about said eX so much lately that it is making me wonder. Why?

As Lovey (my bestie who happens to be a therapist to the stars) never fails to remind me, it is a good thing to feel my feelings and think about whatever is surfacing rather than distract myself and stuff my feelings. As is my inclination. I find that she is right about most things and this is no exception. Therefore, I'm rocking out in Spanish today in hopes that I can get these memories to the surface and that they will then dissipate.

These days my feelings about my eX are way chilled out compared to how intense they used to be. I no longer feel homicidal and maniacal, and I can see my part in the mess formerly known as us.

And my Catholic annulment came thru. 100 percenta!

I'm happy in my life and relieved to have that chapter closed. Officially closed. I love my roomies and living situation and I continue to be relieved not to live with the eX - but after a lot of time and distance.... I ever so humbly confess that I wouldn't want to live with myself in that relationship either. We were a toxic combo and my worstest possible qualities were on fire. Not a pretty place for an Uptown Girl to be.

That said, I'm listening to Bendita Tu Luz and offering a prayer for the eX. That he may come to a place of peace and joy, self-awareness, and love.

My prayers for him used to be quite different. So, in light of that, I also have a prayer of thanksgiving for my own growth and insight into the past (and for the annulment!). I know it will help me with my present and my future.

Status=Hiatus

If the virtual world of social media has taught me anything of use (it hasn't), it is that people want a status update now and again. This isn't always the case, but people like to think that other people care about the update. And, of course, people don't always care. But you care about my status updates and that's what matters.

The update is that I'm on a dating hiatus. Partly by choice and partly by accepting the situation for what it is. Yes, I already updated this status, I suppose, when I told you I ended my online dating career. I was utterly fed up with online dating and frustrated by my own obsession with it. I mean... come on. Who wants to hear all that "why didn't he call?" and "maybe he'll call tonight" and "oh what a d-bag" all the time, over and over in your own head? Not me. It was at the point where I was annoying myself and, well, it was pretty annoying. Believe me.

And now, on my hiatus, I have a clearer head and a peaceful heart. I'm much happier with my singleness. Read: I'm content. It means that I'm on a break from stressing out about what is. This by no means means that I'm not open to dating. Feel free to send your brother, cousin, son, guy-friend, or co-worker my way. Just please only send grown-ups. Literally and figuratively.

My mancation* is all that it's cracked up to be. I know all the answers to all the silly little "He's Just Not That Into You" questions. The answer is.... NO. No he's no calling tonight. Read: I don't need to check my phone a zillion times and get disappointed a zillion times. It's freeing, chillaxing, and calmer.

My roommates Some might compare me to Ginnifer Goodwin's role in the "He's Just Not That Into You" movie. Full of hope and pouring oodles of effort into meeting someone who fills her heart with joy. Only to be consistently crushed. [aside: this applies in the Leading Up To A Relationship stage of dating. To reveal my In A Relationship behavior and personality, please see the long ridiculous and embarassing post that i haven't yet written.]

Like this character, I'm repeating a mantra. "I'm not the exception, I'm the rule". As you would imagine, this mantra is quite convoluted for an Uptown Girl to wrap her brain around.
I'm so used to being a special, unique, and exceptional Uptown Girl, that it is a lot of work to convince me that "I'm the rule". And that "Men Love Bitches". That's another one I need to work on... being more of a bi-otch to the men I date.

Do you see?? See what happens? Not 2 paragraphs ago, I was telling you how calm I am. And a moment later I'm already deciding what I need to work on and tell myself and how to behave so these men (who, I can readily admit, are the biggest idiots and douches out there) will like me! This is problem. I don't want to have to play some stupid manipulative game.

I need this mancation. A well deserved break from acting "approachable yet aloof". That's hard work. I want to just let my hair down. Or, more like, put it in a ponytail. I want to be myself and hang with the people who can see and love that self. And that is all.

For now.



*according to the world wide web, mancation is a vacay for men. according to me, it is a vacay from them.

Because it's Friday

Because it's Friday, I can't remember if i have any workplace grievances this week. All I know is that I'm utterly confused about the whole McCrystal debacle.

I mean.... everytime I watch or read news this week, I learn something new or contradictory to the last time I tuned in.

What boggles my mind is #1- the game of Boggle, and #2- that in this day and age, someone would be so dumb as to somehow dis their boss publicly. Don't you know that you don't do that on Facebook, loudspeaker, or magazine article?

[Aside: please don't be offended Blogland. By "you" here, I don't actually mean you. I mean Generals. I think I can safely assume that Generals in general don't read my blog as I never refer to war, weapons, or ammunition. Sometimes hot men in uniform, but even that is rare. Note to self....]

If you don't have something nice to say, come sit next to me.

In writing, workplace slander should only occur on an anonymous blog. Not even in email. Now, if you ask me if I've ever complained about my boss in writing, well, I'd have to plead the Fifth... but I do know it's a bad idea. Obvi. Plus, my boss isn't the President of the U S of A. Or even the boss of the company. Don't tell him I said that though.

You're welcome for all this etiquette advice.

Always remember, in the words of a very wise woman with a scarily auto-tuned voice:

Money can't buy you class. Elegance is learned, my friends.

Uptown = where it's at.

Last night I left the comfort of the Upper Eastside and headed downtown to a rooftop party in the West Village. It was epic. My bro has a kick-arse rooftop with a sweet view and fun friends. Like me.

The point of this post, however, is to outline why Uptown is superior to Downtown... for those of you who aren't yet convinced. It's far superior. There. Now you know.

When I left the party and looked for a cab, there were none. Zero. My date and I walked all the way East, near Astor Place, before finding a lone cab shining its little light. That is a lie. The cab had people in it and we saw that they were paying and getting out. So we stole the cab before the rightful next passengers noticed. I confess. I stole a cab. But, in my defense, I had been walking for what felt like miles in my Bandolino peep-toe wedges and needed to get back Uptown like [blogfollowers: insert clever analogy here and feel free to comment on it].

Just before finding the only cab in all of downtown NY, we were forced to walk through a makeshift pathway beneath scaffolding (almost every block of NYC has construction). In the pathway were the following:
-a pair of black boots (Aerosoles I think)
-a scent of rank nastiness
-a dead mouse

Also, my date reeeeally wanted to kiss me. Can you blame him? Poor guy. Alas, it was unrequited chemistry.

When I finally made it back to Heaven the Upper Eastside, I saw:
-multiple free taxis shining their lights like stars in the night
-zero dead mice
-ok zero dead or live rodents
-zero men trying to kiss me

I don't know how that last one became an UES plus. Last night it felt like one. Letmetellyou. I was quite happy to have my autonomy back.

Serio. Uptown. What's not to love?

date recap continued... a recap recap

Remember yesterday when I described Bachelor #2? Well he has since changed his tune. Probably after somehow finding my blog or catching a glimpse of me on TMZ.

Not two hours after I posted about the lack of follow-up to our date, Bachelor #2 texted me. I was half excited and half annoyed. I mean, I had just flipped that little imaginary switch in my mind that internally ended things with the Pilot (since he had flown out of sight).

I waited until after work to text back. We texted back and forth maybe 2 texts each and then Mr. Pilot answered my Q (about what cities he was flying to) kind of bluntly. He answered but didn't ask me a question. And I didn't know what to say, if I should text back, or if I should leave it at that. I was lost in the texting world and in need of some guidance. I needed a texting expert.

Once I was home hours later, I discussed the situation with my sister Liza. We couldn't figure out what was going on and Liza said, "Bina would know!". So, I called my teenage sister, Bina, to get her advice. At 14-and-a-half she is Queen of the Text after all. I knew she would know proper texting etiquette. Bina told me that she would be insulted by the last text, but that since the Pilot started the texting this offset that last response cancelling it out. Bina expertly formulated my next text, including an aloof line letting the Pilot know that I was now at home (in hopes he might call rather than text), and asking if he was looking forward to his trip.

His response was again a conversation ender. "Yes very excited..." I quickly forwarded this to Bina who wrote:
Bina- "did he do the dot dot dot?"
Uptown Girl- "yep"
Bina- "ok dump him like a hot tamale"
UG- "Hah! k"
Bina- "well unless u really like him and u r willing to work it out"
UG- "Maybe if he ever calls"
Bina- "ok well keep shining little flower"
UG- "I'm a star!"
Bina- "yay fly little bird fly! :)"

What is with this texting epidemic? I am not a fan. I mean, I text. I text for informational purposes, in addition to real conversations on the phone and face-to-face. Not as a sole means of communication. It is so impersonal. And so confusing.
I'm thinking: What did that dot dot dot mean?
Thinking: Was I supposed to text back?
Thinking: Was that a goodbye?
Thinking: Why am I picking apart this ellipsis punctuation?
Thinking: Why don't I add "Total Eclipse of the Heart" to my iPod?
Thinking: Why am I texting this guy at all?
Thinking: Why doesn't he use his actually voice to talk to me?
Thinking: I'm done with the Pilot. Again. Unless maybe he calls me for real. Fo shizzle my nizzle lemon drizzle.

Phewf. Glad that's done. And I'm grateful to my besties and sisters and faithful blog followers for all the support and advice during the beginning stages of insanitydating. I've discovered that I hate the early stages of dating. And the middle. And the end. I may turn down all future men and dates and stick to my stalkers like Jenna on 30 Rock.

date recap

I went on 2 first dates in February. I haven't mentioned much about these dates because they were one-time-wonders. But, out of the goodness that is my heart, I'll fill you in on the deets.

.

The first first date was a very talkative gentlemanly teacher. Cute and sweet and not for me for the following reasons...

1-Bachelor #1 is pretty way-into Broadway shows*. I like shows too. But as my Georgia Peaches will tell you, it isn't really my thang. I just usually have something else I'd rather spend my $$ on rather than the ticket. This dude comes from the suburbs for Broadway. I can't be bothered to leave the Upper Eastside for it. [*clearly this would be a workable and horizon-broadening issue if we clicked]

..

2-Bachelor #1 doesn't eat carbs or sweets or cheese or fatty meats. We went to a great Italian restaurant for dinner and he ordered a salad. What now? He is a little neurotic about his food. So am I, but in the opposite direction. Snacking is my best sport.

..

3- Bachelor #1 yapped my ear off about multiple topics and referred to future dates ad nauseum. And yet he never set one up! This turns out to be a good thing since I enjoy pasta and ice cream more than I enjoyed the date.

Moving on.

The second first date was with another gentlemanly and talkative guy. A pilot. A cute pilot with broad shoulders (broad shoulders equal uber swoonable in my eyes) who eats every meal like it's his last. A healthy appetite. My kind of guy but not for me for the following reasons...

1- Bachelor #2 lives pretty far out there. About an hour away in the boonies. I would be forced to leave the UES regularly if I dated this man. I can't write more on this because the sheer thought is making me hyperventilate and I now need a brown paper bag. Excuse me.

2- Bachelor #2 never called. What the heck?? I am perfectly happy when a guy I don't like doesn't call, but if I like you even a little bit you should call. kthanksbye.

I can only assume that Bachelor #2 either died or he is intimidated by my beauty and elite status. It's a toss up. Maybe both. How sad. Although I am an Uptown Girl and socialite heiress, I do have feelings. I know, I know, catch your breath, is this like reading the magazines with the "celebrities are just like us" sections? "They drink Starbucks." "They pick wedgies." "They carry Kleenex." And now you are thinking, "They have feelings, too". True story. I have feelings just like regular girls in small towns everywhere. And, am I right or am I right when I say that it is disappointing when the guy you like doesn't call?? Yes, I am right.

It was just one date so I'm not verklempt or feeling anything severe. Just temporarily disappointed. Babs. But my pity party is over friends. Over I tell you. It is now time to embark on something I like to call owning it, "ALWAYS reaching for more, choosing joy in situations and not letting the situation determine your joy!"- Mary T.

Just like Tenley, I deserve a guy who sees my worth. And I now see that pilots are over-rated these days. This season, the Bachelor tv show drilled that point home thoroughly.

I'd prefer to date a hunky millionaire anyway. I'm destined to be a lady of leisure you know. And an Empress.

late effects of television on the female brain

Don't worry, I watched the Office last night. The simple yet beautiful moments between Jim and Pam really touched me. Deep down. And Jim's little monologue at the end was enough to make me cry like a baby. And I liked it.

There is just something about a love that is true, that is pure, that is unfailing, and that is fake. It gets me every time. Is it totally unrealistic to expect real unscripted men to behave like Jim? Probably. Well, not probably, more like definitely.


I've discussed with my girlfriends (on multiple multiple occasions) the idea that Rosie O'Donnell brought to our attention in Sleepless in Seattle...

The scene: 2 women are sitting around either watching or discussing a movie. An Affair to Remember. Classic romance. Love it. Anyways I will let Annie and Becky do the talking.


Annie (Meg Ryan): "Now that was when people KNEW how to be in love. They knew it! Time, distance... nothing could separate them because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was..."

Becky (Rosie O): "A movie! That's your problem! You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie." [emphasis added for your benefit]


Now, to add a little sugar and spice to this post, I will send you over to read this brief classic post at OWN IT from 2008 where we discussed the difference between settling and being realistic about men. Little known fact... they are human. Did you know that?





I know you've seen me refer to babs in prior posts. Boys are bad and stupid. And this is a shocking concept to some (I can only assume these shocked souls are idealists with perfect lives). However, I think the idea of babs is actually quite forgiving to men, and not a man-bashing club. Ok, sometimes it is, but I just can't help myself when I get new raw material. Can you?

The theory played out should look something like this: if you assume that men will at some point do something bad, stupid, idiotic, wrong, mess up, etc then when the man in your life makes a mistake, which is inevitable, you can avoid feeling like men "always disappoint". Again- men and dads in movies are so unbelievable and perfect, and if they aren't perfect at the beginning of a show or movie, they are by the end. Am I right or am I right? Yes, I am. The men on the silver screen give us precisely what we need and want, and the men in real life can never measure up. It is unfair to both sexes.

What is fair then?? Thank you for asking. I'd say it is fair to assume that the men in our off-screen lives will be imperfect. We don't expect idealistic picture perfect friendships with our girlfriends, flawless and ever blissful relationships with our family, do we? So instead of waiting for the dude to fail and then responding with "aha! I knew he was an arse!" it can look more like "ahh yes, you're an arse, but that's life".

[Obvi I'm talking about failing in small everyday human ways, not the big stuff because that is a different level in the system. Don't get crazy.]

Do you agree with me? Yay or nay? Have you found a way to balance these oh so important everyday issues? Are you of the opinion that we women are the ones who tend to create the problems? Do tell.

This post is one long tangent that just kept developing itself as I wrote (and props to Liza for allowing me to plagiarize her whenever I want to). But what I really wanted to tell you is this: I have a hot date tonight. yep.

RED ALERT: for bearded men everywhere

[aside: I intend this information to be used with discretion. As such, please read faces not actual bodies.]

*beard poll on the right. don't miss the opportunity to be fabulous vote for something that will never count for anything ever.*

about the day I met John Turturro

Today I had this vivid memory of an odd experience from a few years back.

version 1:

Yes, John Turturro the award winning actor wanted to meet this Uptown Girl. He asked his people to contact my people because he had heard so much about me and wanted to set up a meeting. I agreed to coffee, but only coffee. Mr. Turturro then asked if we could take a photo together. I regretfully declined.

I have another version of this same story to share with you. This is an exercise for your benefit, so that you can use those critical thinking and problem solving skills. Research shows that brain teasers prevent Alzheimer's, so you can thank me with flowers or chocolates.

version 2:

I had just completed a successful second round of interviews and was hired for my (then) new job. As I waited for the bus to come, I started talking to the man next to me. He commented on the desserts I was eating at the bus stop, and the conversation went on from there. I told this gentleman of about 50 years that he looked familiar, that he reminded me of an actor. And he told me in hushed tones that he was in fact an actor, and asked me to guess his name. I guessed Roberto Benigni.

[Roberto Benigni]

But he said he was John Turturro. That sounded very familiar but I couldn't place the name at the time.

[John Turturro]

Mr. Turturro and I rode the long bus ride from the Upper Eastside to Midtown West, where I was to meet my eX. I asked Mr. T a little bit about acting because I have a brother who hopes to become a successful actor one day. I got Mr. T's autograph for said brother. However, Mr. T did not want to talk much about his craft.


Mr. T suggested we have dinner. I reminded him that I was on my way to meet my eX, and then I agreed to coffee at a cafe about a block from where I was headed so that the eX could come meet him, too. We drank our coffee, but as soon as the eX texted that he was rounding the corner, Mr. T had to rush off. They didn't get to meet.


And the eX was angry. Very angry that I would even think to go to coffee with another man. Even John Turturro. Even a man who was over twice my age. Even a man who knew about the eX and was waiting to buy him a cup of coffee.


We made it home (fighting) and I looked up John Turturro in Google Images. Oh, I was so conned. The lovely man who kept me company for the afternoon was not in fact Mr. T at all. He does not ride this bus in order to "be one with the people of NY". The real Mr. Turturro does not have a foreign accent.



Oops.


This is the lesson I learned: men blow everything out of proportion, so it is unwise to let them know when you make a mistake until after you check the facts. And even then, just don't tell them if you don't have to. I should've waited until I verified that coffee was with the real John Turturro before divulging that information (if at all). Now I know how to play my cards right. Also, babs.


I also stopped talking to strangers on public transportation (unless they are in my personal space unnecessarily, but that is a different kind of conversation). And when I see the fake Mr. T sitting at that same bus stop, I look the other way. And when I see confirmed celebs in public, I don't often go to coffee with them.


And there you have it friends, one story, two versions. You decide. Choose your own adventure.

beard today, gone tomorrow

Monday Monday... oh yes I am back at work and assuming you are as excited as I am that it is once again Monday. The weekend has come and gone. I am sore in more muscles than I never knew existed. Get your mind out of the gutter, I went hiking. That's all. Hiking. I scaled a mountain if you must know. And my body won't let me forget it.

Anywho, as it is Monday and it is a less than cheery day I thought I'd offer a little story time. This is the beard story I promised on Friday. So cuddle up and get lost in the magical land of the Upper Eastside.........

Ok so once upon a time, I went on a few dates with this guy who had a beard. I'm not a fan of beards nor have I ever been. But I thought this guy was worth getting to know and tried to get past the beard, plus it wasn't a huge scraggly beard anyways and looked ok on him. And so I ignored the beardedness before my very eyes. We went out multiple times. And I forgot all about my beard hatred. I grew to appreciate my date, beard and all.

But, and you knew there had to be a but, then it happened. Kissing. Kissing happened. The beard felt so bizarre and it threw me for a loop. It distracted me from one of my favorite sports. The nerve!

As the open-minded and patient person that I am, I didn't let it get to me. I said to myself, "self, this is a minor setback. Next time you will know what to expect and will not be distracted."

But, yes another but, then I got home. And I put my jammies on and I sat on the couch and said to my roomies, "what is that smell??". And they were all, "what smell"? And I was like, "I smell something awful, what is that!? Ewwww".

Ok and do you want to know what the smell turned out to be? Brace yourself bloggers.

It was my face. My upperlip had retained this disgusting stank from beard-boy's beard. I had to wash my face to get rid of the odor. Sicknast!!!!!!

And furthermore, I went out with beard-boy one more time. I was in such disbelief that I convinced myself that this had to be a one time thing, his beard couldn't always reek. Could it? Yes, it could. On the last date I even smelled the beard while sitting beside him. And when he kissed me I was just thinking "eww no, eww no".

Well, I think I must've given off some "I really don't like being close to you or kissing you" sort of a vibe because beard-boy never called me again. I couldn't help but be sort of offended. I was all prepared to turn him down for a date and he didn't even call me to give me the chance. Can you believe that?

Mark my words, I will never date another man with facial hair.

I don't care if Eduardo Verastegui asks me out. I will not put myself thru that again. Although, I'm sure Eduardo would shave for me. And put on a suit and tie.

It's really not so much to ask.

The End.

what the Fritz?

The Closer Season 5 has come to an end. Closed for the season. And it is a sad state of affairs. I am going thru the typical withdrawl symptoms: can't make myself get to bed at a decent hour sleep, can't stop eating ice cream eat, and can't stop drooling when I think about Fritz. Obvi. I know you feel my pain. bleh... sob... wipe a tear.


Luckily, I do have the great ability to watch re-runs and old seasons on the world wide web and on DVD. Yay for Netflix! And, of course, I have the great honor of being able to google-image pics of my hot mess... also known as Jon Tenney... also known as Fritz Howard. Fritzie!!



Here. He. Is:

Fritz looks good in his suit. His little FBI get-up. His intense look says, "You are a difficult woman, but I have what it takes to deal with you. And I will deal with you. And in a loving way. And you won't walk all over me. No fear." On the show his look says this to Brenda, but in real life/my imagination he is saying this to me. And to you, and to every woman he melts.

Look at that face... oooh Fritzie.

Fritz has single-handedly blown my 'babs' theory to bits. Almost. The fact that he is just a character on tv and not a real man is the only thing that keeps babs intact. The only thing. And, yes, babs is going strong.

Young Jon Tenney in a tux. A tux! Uh huh. Aww yeah. Swoon.

Fritzie likes my blogizzle. Who doesn't? It makes him smile. And laugh. And swoon.

Can you think of any character that is a better example of what a man should be? And in the same mostly-realistic way that Fritz exemplifies swoonability?

Feel free to help me with these captions. I know they are lacking. And I apologize for the lack of shirtless pics, google-images deprived us all. Or maybe Fritz is just that modest?

ADDENDUM

After consulting the Gentleman Formerly Known As Liza's ManFriend, I have an addendum to the last post...

The Gentleman Formerly Known As Liza's ManFriend will now be dubbed:
"Liza's Tall Glass of Mantini, Shaken, Not Stirred".

all is fair in love or war

Plese click the link... I hope you will forgive me... when I tried to embed this onto the blogizzle it was way to fat wide. Rood. Lamespice.

So yeah, click click click away. And tell me what you think.

This was sent to me by my coworker-in-crime hereafter dubbed "Uptown Biotch".

I believe this was written more as a declaration, so I'd like you to declare this. Read aloud. If you are around coworkers or children or passers by on the street or on the bus, all the better. Let them hear. Let them listen. Let them learn.

http://paulocoelhoblog.com/the-wounded-by-love-agreement/

I'm not presently broken-hearted or anything (I know how worried you get about my fragile uptown heart) but I like it. It is a good reminder to guard your heart. But also to love passionately, live fully, and expect battle wounds. Like Pat Benatar says...

We are young
Heartache to heartache we stand
No promises, no demands
Love is a battlefield

We are strong, no one can tell us we're wrong
Searching our hearts for so long
Both of us knowing
Love is a battlefield

babs

Please consult this link to get a full understanding of what I mean when I say (in lowercase letters): babs.

My date had to cancel. He was very nice about it and had good reasons.

He wants to reschedule for Sunday. After referring to pages 72-76 in my paperback version of "The Guide to Being the Biggest Bitch You Can Be: Owning It", I responded "I'll have to get back to you".

Yes, I want to reschedule. I just can't do it so soon after posting my pretty (pretty awesome!) outfit on the blogizzle. That would just be painful.

It would also convey the wrong message- that I was jumping up and down just dying for this date. While I was looking fwd to it more than I care to admit, it is only a 3rd date. And date #2 was over 2 weeks ago. It was a good one. We played Connect 4. We drank good beer. But I think I should repeat: it was over 2 wks ago now. So whatevski.

If I am perfectly honest with you (and you know how I hate to hide things from my fans and how the stalker-razzi eventually learns all) then I will have to just come out and admit it: ready? ok.

Deep cleansing breath in, deep cleansing breath out. I am mainly upset that I got this kick-arse outfit together, courtesy of Liza, and now can't wow him with my hotness until Sunday.

[assuming i say yes- and I am 99.9% sure that I will say yes once I am no longer wearing my Liza's beautious necklace that makes me look like the debutante that I am]

done. doner.

It is icky and rainy outside today anyways and my hair is starting to frizz. Sunday is supposed to be beautiful. Please come thru for me this one time Sam Champion. My adorable little blonde gay man who decides the weather. Help an uptown girl out this once. Or I will cut you.

donest.