1-11-11

oh, hi New Year.

My New Year's Rezzies this year are as follows:

1- Dental care. I will take better care of my teeth and see a dentist.

2- Skin care. I will not let myself become a wrinkled mess at age 30. I will remove make-up before bed always. I will moisturize and use anti-aging creams.

3- Finances. Oh money. I will spend less and save more. Or spend more wisely? Something. Guess I need to sit down with my financial advisor and set a better budget for 2011. Don't want to blow my billions on champagne and ice this year. That's

sooo 2010.

4- I will make amends. With my Uptown Girl Followers. aka you.

UPTOWN APOLOGY & CONFESSION (excuse):

It is hard for me to write and blog when I try to filter myself. I don't like to be guarded with you. I like to spill all my beans and then some. I like to gab away like a teenager loitering outside 7/11 at midnight. Yet, I've been hesitant. I'm not ready to tell you all the deets about mi vida as of late. And when I'm filtering I just have nothing to say slash I clam up slash I get a little writer's block.

I know it's hard to believe that I have this one-and-only flaw.

I'm SO sorry for deserting blogland at large and in particular my 53 loyal followers.

I've been uber caught up in my off-the-grid happenings (dating) that I've neglected to blog... I have thought about what to tell the blogosphere about my boy without disclosing his exact name and address.

LIMITED DISHING:

To start, this is his blog-protected name and addy:

Uptown Boyfriend

UpperWest Sweet Street
New York, NY <3<3

I've been dating a wonderful man. He lives Uptown. Obvi. Would you expect anything less else? Oh, and in case you're wondering - which I know you are - he is NOT the secret admirer-stalker that lives in my building. That would be too cliche in a romantic horror movie way.

I prefer to be cliche in a romantic comedy way. Just call me Sentimental-Susie. That's not my name, but you can still call me that if you want to.

Look Out Ladies

There's nothing like the Onion News to kick off this lovely Friday. And by lovely I mean there is a full-blown monsoon outside. Sam Champion, please remedy this and show us some sunshine this weekend.

Obama Releases 500,000 Men From U.S. Strategic Bachelor Reserve

I think I speak for all the singles ladies (move over Beyonce) when I say that this report is a dream come true. Who knew Obama was so thoughtful!?

Holler

Dearest Blogland,

I just got home from drinks with my admirer (one of many, obvi).

Just checking in to let you know that I'm alive and well. I had a nice time chilling with my 6'3" date, albeit, there were no sparks. Yes, I asked his height.

Also no kidnapping or murder to report. This admirer is seemingly not a stalker, nor is he dangerous yet.

Nite nite Sprite. Sweet dreams.

<3
Uptown Girl

not so secret admirer

Have you ever had a secret admirer? Let me tell you what it's like.
Except for the part that my secret admirer is not a secret. But oh well, it's kind of like the same thing.

When I woke up this morning, on my day off, there was an envelope stuck under the front door. Inside was a folded up note that reads:

---------------------
Subj: "Unorthodox"


To: The Brunette, who has a roundish cute face, who I think lives here

From: Tall Indian guy who has seen you in the building and in the elevator occasionally. Unfortunately, you're never alone - so I couldn't introduce myself.


If you'd like to grab coffee or a drink sometime - please call or text.


-Tall Indian guy (212-Admirer)
[Name and phone number changed to protect my admirer]
---------------------

And there you have it folks.

Confusingly enough, there are two brunettes in my apartment. I mean, Liza is a Blondie, so we can safely rule her out (barring red-green color blindness). But, hi, Lovey is a "brunette who has a roundish cute face". Super cute in fact.

However, Lovey has no frame of reference for a "Tall Indian guy" in the building. And I think I know exactly who it is. I often see a "Tall Indian guy" in the elevator. And he's pretty good looking.

My roomies thought this was a very romantic gesture, while my immediate reaction is stalker. A romantic stalker, if you will. How does he know where I live? Did he follow me? Did he leave the same note under every door in the hallway?
Possibly.


I looked through the peep-hole and there was no stalker standing by, and this is just one note. So instead of jumping to extremes, I'm going to officially dub this "Tall Indian guy" an admirer rather than jump to stalker. For now.

Now then. What is your initial reaction? I'm def gonna ask my guy-friends for their reactions. Future-Brother-in-Law, what do you think? Tell me everything.

I'm considering calling the number and going for coffee. What would you do? Any advice for this Uptown Girl?

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.

the tally

Thank you for voting on the poll. Clearly you all (but one) think I should continue the online dating.

I'm a big rebel though (ask my mom). I ended my subscription. I just can't take it anymore.

For now, I'll try to keep seeing the men I met online and meet the rest organically.

In real life.

The old fashioned way: drunk at a bar with a low cut top.

Negative. That was a lie. Trashy is not so much my style. I prefer to be a classy lady and bring all the boys to the yard in more subtle ways. Using telepathy and subliminal messaging. And batting my eyes like Betty Boop. Now she had it going on.

Somehow my skills don't yield a high return (although I'm having luck with 30 Rock men), but I will continue to practice and bring you some stories.

For now, TV Man is keeping me distracted. I'll report back with more deets a-s-a-p. Maybe later tonite.

Da Do Run Run Run Da Do Run Run

So the Friday night date re-cap is a little overdue. Please excuse me, I know you've been waiting anxiously.

I will refer to this guy as TV man. You guessed it. He works in television. Behind the scenes, although he is cute enough to be on camera.

This is a first date story of SUCCESS! TV Man = a keeper! At least until after date #2 when I will again re-evaluate. Statistically, let's just say his chances don't look so good. It's not my decision, it's just math.

Ok. Yes. It is my decision. And I'm attempting to remain in a certain state of mind. The state of pleasantly surprised.

It works like this:

Date #1 went smoothly. How do I feel? Pleasantly surprised.

TV Man texted me something cute the next day. How do I feel? Pleasantly surprised that he followed up.

Tuesday night, TV Man called and asked me for Date #2 (and has a whole elaborate plan in mind). How do I feel? Pleasantly surprised.

My BFF Lovey taught me this technique. My usual state of mind with dating is more extreme. Either the state of high expectations OR the state of expecting disaster, doom & gloom, and calamity. This technique is your basic no expectations approach. Seems to be working for me.

TV Man travels a lot, so coordinating Date #2 is tricky and still up in the air. Afterall, I'm an Uptown Girl and my schedule (to be pronounced like "shed"- the fancy way) is quite busy. Between my elite array of activities and TV Man's globe-trotting lifestyle, we may lose some momentum, or we may not. Time will tell.

To be completely honest, as always, I don't think I would mind dating someone who travels often. I like my Independence and my girltime and, unless I'm super into a guy, I don't want to see him everyday anyways. That said, I'm looking to get super into a guy. Soooooo in that case maybe I would actually want him around? How is this supposed to work?

Enough rambling for one lunch break. I will keep you abreast of the situation. Because I know you care. Deeply.

first-date-stats

I have another first date tomorrow night. It's getting to be ridiculous already. My roommates know exactly what I'll say when I get home and they ask about the date.

Me: "It was ok. He was really nice, but I don't really like him like that". Every. single. time.

In the last 5 months, I've gone out with 7 guys from online, 2 guys from real life. 13 dates total.

I sort of liked one guy a little bit (the pilot), and he texted but never called. Rude. I totally liked another guy after only 2 dates and then he dropped off of planet Earth. You do the math. That leaves 7 dudes that I didn't like for one reason or another.

Statistically speaking, I will have a lovely evening eating seafood with my date tomorrow, but will not want to go out with the man again. That is: 85% probability with a mean of 3.

I made that up but I'm sure it is leftover knowledge from my college statistics course. 50% sure.

Anywhooooo this leads me to my newest poll. Yay blog!
Please see the top right-hand internet banner thing and VOTE about my online dating future. My future is in your hands and your mouse. Choose wisely.

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?

You have a really pretty smile

When I was walking home yesterday, some guy said to me: "you have a really pretty smile".
Yes. I do, don't I?

However.
I wasn't smiling.
It must be this dude's only line. Truth be told, he wasn't my type anyway. At-all.So, I turned up my iTunes and kept walking. I started smiling soon after though, because, hello! it was pretty hilario if I do say so myself. And I do. I say so.

Have an awesome blossom weekend and remember, as they say... smile, it won't mess up your hair!

Holly Hobby

What are my hobbies and interests?
Some guy I have never met asked me this question. This is online dating in all it's glory.

"What are your other hobbies and interests?" was the actual Q.

Other??
Oh, because you are recycling the same question and think that is ok because I must knit or something and forgot to mention it in a previous email?

Other?
As in: other than running (the original hobby/interest I told him about)? As in: other than hanging out with my friends and family, going for drinks, or dinner, or coffee, or dancing (which I also mentioned). Other than tv and reading which are listed on my profile (and yes I consider those interests)? Other than belonging to a book club (also listed on the profile)?

Other?

Do I dare tell him my true hobbies?

1- I am a self-declared-Pulitzer-Prize-Winning-Author of a blog. A sparkly, chic, fabulous blog.
2- I follow and read many blogs. I leave comments.
3- I do some Facebook stalking from time to time.
4- I DVR, follow, and critique some great tv shows.
5- I enjoy sightseeing. I view as many hunky men per day as I can whilst en route to and from work or to and from lunch.
6- I eat meals and snacks.
7- I make some tasty popcorn.
8- I enjoy being the most glam uptown girl you can imagine.
9- I email with total strangers on the internet just because they look cute and live within 30 miles... although maybe those pics are 5 years and 45 pounds and a full head of hair ago old... when you were taller.... although the men I'm emailing with could turn into stalkers or serial killers... so I could classify this hobby/interest as "taking risks". Maybe?
10- I make a killer list of hobbies and interests.

Yeah, that sounds good. Maybe this will be my rough draft for that email. Success.

oh, you want my digits?

I think someone should start a Facebook Group called "Can I... can I... can I get your number Uptown Girl??". Apparently it's the latest and greatest thing to do.

I had three people ask for my digits this week and one simply offer his own.
What is going on in the universe? Oh, thank you for asking. I will fill you in.

I went to this running club on Wednesday for the second time. Yes, it was St. Patrick's Day. Yes, I love all things Irish. Yes, I punked out on celebrating this year so that I could run. Yes, I am a major athlete now, go figure. I was running at the same pace as a couple of other girls and we ran our marathon our 3.5 miles together. After the run, two girls asked me for my phone number so we can run together again. I'm pretty excited because I've been hoping and praying for a running partner to help me stay motivated. Awesome.

Next. Last night I went to see my coworker's band play. One of the residents (aka doctors-in-training) I work with asked me for my phone number so that he and I could coordinate taking the train downtown to the concert. Did I end up on a date with him last night? Maybe. That remains unclear... he was quite attentive... and he did buy my drinks... what else would I want in a date??

Last but not least, a guy I've been emailing with and def stalking interested in via internet dating (as interested as you can get without meeting someone...) finally asked me to get drinks and gave me his number. Way to step up that E-game. What a baller. I suppose that even though I don't call boys as a rule, I'll be calling this one. Now is when I miss the days before Caller ID and *69. What I would give for a drive by call. Oh to call, hear his voice, and hang up. A girl can dream. Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories...

With all the digits flying to and fro, I'm starting to feel a little bit like Yvonne here.

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.

real life meeting

No joke this time. I hung out with Eduardo Verastegui on Saturday night. I guess you could say it was sort of like a date. You'd be lying, but you could say that.

It was a room full of people. He and his peeps from Metanoia Film did a pitch. They talked about their movies, their mission, and their need for investors. There was no private time per se, but I did get to have a couple of convos with Eduardo. He is the Brad Pitt of Mexico, did you know that? Just checking.

My plan was this: meet Eduardo and kiss him. The kiss was meant for science and for you, my public. So that we would know once and for all if all beards smell like old cheese. So, obvi, my plan was airtight. Like tupperware.

And he wore a suit and tie. You know I love a man who wears a suit. I can't help myself, it is part of my genetic code.

But, alas, Eduardo had shaved (in my honor)! This really threw me for a loop. I mean, the whole point of the kiss was to do a beard smelling test. Without a beard there would be no point at all. The kiss would've been in vain. I think you know where I'm going with this: I had no choice but to reject Eduardo's many shameless advances.

Also, as handsome and hunky as he really truly is, Eduardo isn't my type. Yes, he is physically my type (suit-wearing-man), but personality-wise it just wasn't there.

However, the night wasn't a total bust. As a matter of fact, it was sweetness. I had fun eating, drinking, and freezing my bootie off with the ladies while we gawked at and talked to the Mexican Brad Pitt. Can I just add that Mexican Brad is way cuter than American Brad? Its the truth.

We also met the other guys on the team at Metanoia Film. I was impressed by their mission to produce decent films and combine art and morality. They want people to leave the theatre after seeing their movies "wanting to love more and judge less". If I hadn't recently invested millions elsewhere I would be game for backing one of Metanoia's upcoming projects, because I was def inspired by their vision. But, alas, I try not to stretch myself too thin.

.

.

[I know what you are thinking: why didn't Uptown Girl post any pics of her beardless Eduardo encounter? Well, it was an intimate evening and, as such, my personal photographers the papa razzi did not attend. But don't worry, one of my girlfriends should have a pic or two on her camera, and as soon as she shares them with me I will share them with you. Because sharing is caring.]

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.*

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.

cupid we don't need you now, be on your way

A few days ago, I received an email with a link to this blog post, "Marry a man who loves you more than you love him". I finally read the post this morning and want to share my thoughts. If you have time read the post and let me know what you think.

I think it makes a lot of sense. Personally, I hope to eventually find a balance thru my scientific method of trial and error. A strong connection with a cute uptown man who has a strong and admirable character. AKA it can't be just the passionate connection with a dude lacking in character, nor can it be a relationship where the man has a crap ton of moral character but there is like and not love. Do you follow?

My fave part of the post is when the author said:
"A relationship that starts at the peak with an all-consuming passion has a higher risk of burning out quickly. It is my belief that a relationship that starts on a strong foundation of moderate love, mutual respect, shared beliefs and tolerance has a greater potential of growing better each day…just like fine wine.

As the saying goes... I love you more today than I did yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow." [also pseudo lyrics to a good song, also my title, obvi]

I like the quote bc I do think that the fiery passion can burn out and so it is not enough to stand alone. A strong foundation to stand on is a necessity. But you also need to love each other and each other's personality traits even without the passion. Head and heart must be balanced. With all of this in place then yes it prob works well if the man love the woman a wee bit more than she loves him.

Ok so what do you think?? What do you want and/or what works for you?

Sans beard, this is what I want in my future...
<3 UG

ps- remind me to tell you why I can't be with a bearded man. it makes a good story. one of those "you will laugh about this one day" stories.

Move More, Eat More

I remember listening to Dr. Laura years ago when I had a car and drove a lot and listened to talk-radio-psychology. She said the best way to lose weight is not dieting or getting crazy, but to eat less and move more.
Well, duh.

I'm not on a weight loss kick by any means, nor do I plan to start eating less. I just don't want to. I like eating crap and I like eating a lot of it. I eat healthy food, too. Before you ask the obvious question of "what is your crap to healthy food ratio??", I'll just offer this info: I'd say the ratio is at about 1:1 (fyi- you can be so nosey sometimes).

Anywho... I am trying to move more. I have a gym in my building and I sometimes neglect it. I am making a concerted effort to spend more quality time on the treadmill, catching up on my running and listening to my ipod. This requires me to be more disciplined than I am naturally. I have to set aside time- often cutting into my morning sleep/snooze button ritual. I know what you're thinking: "oh Uptown Girl, the horror!!". And I'll agree with you this once. Waking up any earlier in the morning than necessary is a horrific thing to do on purpose.
So, yes, I'm running more now, and I'm also walking the long 1.88 miles back and forth to work this week and foregoing my usual bus ride. The bus drivers miss my presence, I'm sure, bc I honestly think I am among the creme de la creme of their daily clientele. Obvi, and for these reasons: I am a posh Uptown Girl, I don't smell bad, I don't talk to myself, I don't talk to invisible people, I know how to use the rear exit door, and I never sit in the handicapped seating.
I'm really enjoying the walking btw. This is the perfect weather for it- not hot and not cold. The nice cool breeze seems to prevent sweat and everything. Good deal.

I'm not expecting this to lead to any significant weight loss, but just hope that I'll get a little more toned and increase my endurance to match that of an average and not-so-sedentary 28 year old. This woman at the nail salon asked how old I was earlier this week (rude) and I said I was 29. What is wrong with me?? My sister quickly corrected me, but why do I age myself in my mind? Mayhaps I'm just mentally preparing for my birthday in December. That has to be it.

Also, I joined a running class that starts next month to work on my endurance, speed, and technique. Ideally the coach will be gorgeous, single, way into me, and have a tip to share that will reveal a major flaw in my current running technique. And once I repair this flaw, running will be easier, less sweaty, and I'll be fast as lightening (look for me in the 2012 Olympic Games- I'll be wearing pink) with my newfound hunk of a man. After we fall in love, I'll say to him: Oh let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France. Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance. Let's get rich and build our house on a mountain making everybody look like ants... you and I... you and I.

Ok, those last few lines are lyrics from "You and I" by Ingrid Michaelson and I'm a bit obsessed with the song. I heart it. And I really will sing that to my running coach if he is as amazing as I want him to be. Time will tell and I'll let you know how it turns out (but not for another month bc my class starts in October. be patient little one!) .