Where to start?

Does anyone else out there feel like they will never, ever get totally organized? Do you feel like you'll ever get to the point where you think, "O.K., now I've got everything set just right, and I can start exploring new things and really put my heart into it?" Because I'm slowly coming to the realization that this is never going to happen for me, and the only question remaining is, can I live with this?

O.K. that in and of itself is a stupid question--of course I can live with it. I'm not going to kill myself over the fact that I'm probably never going to go through the unpacked boxes in my basement, or that it's a pretty safe bet that my entire house will never be completely clean all at the same time. The question is, will I ever get to the point where I accept this fact of life and don't obsess about it constantly?

I wonder about this all the time--how do people manage to get things done, on any kind of consistent basis, while carrying on with their day-to-day requirements/activities? Because, despite not even having kids, I never seem to have time to really get on top of . . . well, anything. I manage to maintain a lifestyle where I don't live in filth, get most of my bills paid on time, and, with some effort, can track down some important paperwork when needed. But I always feel like I'm barely hanging on as far as all that goes. For example, if someone asked me to produce my passport right this very moment . . . well, I could produce it by the end of the night, probably. But right off the top of my head? I'm just not sure where it is. Ditto for my Social Security card. Last year's tax documents. This year's tax documents. My dog's vet records. My 401K information. (How much, exactly, do I have saved for retirement thus far? Couldn't tell you.) It's all just too much.

I do wonder sometimes, though, exactly where the time goes. What if I came up with a plan, in which I totally clean and/or organize one thing per night, until I'm all caught up? Good plan, huh? Yeah, that's never gonna happen.

Tonight, for example. I tried to set a goal of cleaning the bathroom. That's the one thing I set out for myself to accomplish before the day was over. Simple, right? Easily accomplished? Well, here's how my day went:

7:00-6:00: Work. Yes, I am working 11-hour days right now, minimum. Doesn't help much as far as accomplishing anything else goes.

5:30-7:00: Talk to a friend on the phone. (Obviously, this overlapped with working. I'm trying to multitask my many responsibilities.)

7:00-7:30: Mess around on the computer a bit. (Note that with the new Mac, I could be doing this 24 hours a day and still wouldn't make a significant dent in exploring the possibilities of my new computer. More on this later.)

7:30-9:00: Walk the dog. We started off at the park, with all of our fellow dog-walking friends, where we stayed for about half an hour. Then, it was such a beautiful evening, we just had to go on an extended walk. It was gorgeous and peaceful.

9:00-now: Got home and realized I had absolutely no desire to clean the bathroom--I just wanted to write. Also realized I'd totally neglected to eat dinner. Also, I'm tired. There's not going to be any bathroom cleaning tonight . . . so when? There's a whole new to-do list for tomorrow night (basically, laundry), which means bathroom cleaning will happen . . . when? I really don't know.

Other people manage to clean their bathrooms and get other shit done. How?? I'd love to know. Of course, maybe most of them don't have blogs . . . .

eHarmony Update

Great. I tried to log back in to see if there were any other "matches" besides Christopher in the last hour, and the web site is not recognizing my password--the password I know is right, since I just signed up and wrote it down--it's sitting right here in front of me. And their support center is closed today for "maintenance."

I just really want to slap someone right now . . . .

I've Been Had

O.K., so some of you know about my new plan, which was . . . to sign up for Match.com. Originally, I was only going to sign up to mine for blog fodder--after spending a few hours trolling around on the site, I realized it was rich with potential blog material. Some of the pictures these people post, the things they write in their profiles, even their nicknames, are just--ridiculous, nonsensical, absurd, hilarious. (Would you contact a guy whose nickname is "plushbunnies"? How about "fuggindude"? Dude--what???) It also surprised and kind of alarmed me that, after specifying that I was looking for men, ages 30-45, within 50 miles of the greater Columbus area, the site brought up a bunch of pictures--and I recognized three of them! One is a guy who hangs out at a local bar I sometimes go to--and up until about two months ago, he was hanging out there with his wife. Now, his profile says he is separated and looking for his "soulmate--that special lady to share his life with." Yeah, buddy, that's a great idea--why not hop right back on the horse, right? Another is --get this--the attorney who represented my husband in the divorce. I didn't notice the phrase "complete and total asshole" in his profile, so obviously he's not representing himself accurately. The third I will refer to as "the woman-man from Match.com." You should see his profile photo--he's got feminine features to start with, and he wasn't helping himself out by posting a photo showing his long, lovely hair pulled back in a ponytail and resting on his shoulder. I kept staring at this picture, thinking they'd put a woman on the guys' page by accident, when I suddenly realized he is a man, and that I've seen him jogging on the bike path. When you live in Columbus, it truly is a small world.

There were plenty of other noteworthy things I saw on this site, including:

• A guy who obviously cut and pasted his profile photo out of a modeling publication, complete with shirtless shot, 6-pack abs, and an artsy black-and-white background. This guy also claimed to be an American and native English speaker, but upon reading his profile, it's totally obvious English is his second language. It was like reading a profile posted by Borat. (His tagline? "Looking for someone that need nice man." His religion? "I believe on Jesus.")
• A lot of people who were unclear about how to fill out their profiles in the first place. See, when you first sign up, you answer all these basic questions about yourself--age, job, marital status (hopefully single or divorced!), whether you smoke, how often you drink, whether you have children and how you feel about having children, etc. You also describe what answers to these questions are acceptable to you in a potential partner. A lot of people, however, give contradictory answers to these questions. For example: "Do you want children in the future?" [Answer: Yes.] "How many children do you want? [Answer: None.] There's more of this type of thing going on than you might think.
  
• One thing I noticed is that there are some things everyone answers in the same way. Everyone loves to travel. Everyone loves the outdoors. No one likes to play games, and everyone is looking for someone who doesn't like to play games. (Headgames, that is, not board games. Board games are O.K.) Everyone loves dining out, especially at ethnic restaurants. Staying in and snuggling on the couch while watching movies with your sweetie is completely acceptable, but no one fesses up to spending some Sunday afternoons watching Law & Order for three hours. No one!

Anyway, I could go on and on, and maybe I'll revisit this in the future, but it's not the point right now. The thing is, as I was perusing the site, I found that there actually were some interesting guys on there. With some of the profiles I read, I found myself thinking that I wouldn't mind meeting this person. So, why not give it a try? I hadn't yet subscribed--you can troll around and create a preliminary profile for free--but I was seriously considering it.

Around this time is when all the computer stuff happened, and I wound up with my new (wonderful, fabulous) Mac. And I discovered that when I tried to log in to my Match.com profile, everything was all screwed up. I couldn't access or edit my profile, and I couldn't download a photo. I couldn't do much of anything. I e-mailed their support group, but I haven't heard back yet . . . and I started to get restless.

So, earlier today, I thought, as long as I was going to do it anyway, why not try another site until Match.com gets back to me (if they ever do)? And so, I logged on to eHarmony.

I should have clued in right off the bat, when I saw that they only match heterosexuals--no gay matching at this site. That irked me immensely--what's up with that? Did I really want to join a site that had yet to enter the 21st century? Big red flag. But, against my better judgment, I signed up anyway. I then spent about two hours that I will never get back filling out their "personality profile" forms, where they ask you about everything, multiple times. And, as they admonished me over and over to do, I tried to be completely honest--I didn't sugarcoat anything. Those of you who know me know what this entails. I was straight up about children, partying, politics, religion (or lack thereof)--everything. And, I actually paid the initial subscription fee, which is $60 for a month. (After that, it goes to $40 per month--still pretty steep, if you ask me.) And I clicked "submit" and waited for the 60 or so matches that I expected would pop up immediately, as they did on Match.com. And waited. Refreshed the page, waited some more. Finally, I got one match--Christopher from Pickerington. O.K., first of all, I'm not going to date anyone from Pickerington. It's too far away, and the people there tend to be--how shall I put this?--hicks. But, I clicked on his profile anyway, since . . . well, since there were no other options. Here's the basis of Christopher's profile:

"Christian man seeks girl-next-door type who will make our relationship the priority in her life."

Um, no. No, and no, and no. No no no. This is what I spent two hours and $60 for??!! They were supposed to match me up based on about 1,600 measures of compatibility, and they got exactly zero of them right. This seems to be almost a litigious-worthy situation. For those of you who are attorneys--thoughts?

The Buttons Are Back!!

Burb, in his infinite kindness and generosity, called me back to explain how to integrate Firefox and Blogger, so now I can once again do this! And this! And, that's about it right now, but I'm sure I'll figure out other stuff eventually. Like how to post a photo to my blog home page, maybe?

Actually, I'll do a little experiment here and try to post a photo of my niece. O.K., I did it, as you can see, but how to move it? I can't figure out how to move it from the beginning of the post to the end. Burb is going to regret ever offering to help me, I suspect!

(Sorry to inundate my blog with all this computer-related stuff. I'm sure it's not that interesting to a lot of you, but . . . I'm in love! And, as people tend to do, I'm inclined to ramble on and on about my new love interest as I explore the beginnings of our relationship. Please bear with me!)

I Am Clueless

O.K., I downloaded Mozilla Firefox--now what??

My Life Is an Onion Article

O.K., if I had to pick a title for my life right now, it would be:

Yet Another Area Woman Can't Get Over How Much Her iPod Has Changed Her Life

Trite, but true. Well, that, along with the new computer--my life truly is transformed. For one thing I've discovered an affinity for multitasking at home. Earlier tonight, I was writing an e-mail, downloading music, eating, and watching Law & Order--all at the same time! It was awesome. The music thing is blowing my mind. It's slowly dawning on me that I have access to just about any music I want, at any time. I know I sound like Rip Van Winkle, but what can I say? It's all new to me.

Speaking of which, I'm finding the Mac extremely easy to use, although I do have a few questions that I can't find answers to in any of the provided materials. Without further ado . . .

Top 10 Questions for Apple

1. What if I don't want to log on to your website for the answer to my question?
2. What if I CAN'T log on to your website?
3. Could leg sweat harm my laptop? How?
4. I'm still having Internet connection problems. Could you kick WOW's ass for me?
5. I just figured out that I need to use the apple key instead of the control key for control-plus functions. Why didn't your salesperson tell me that? Seems it would be a pretty common issue.
6. Why do you charge $200 more for a black computer than a white computer, even if they're the exact same computer?
7. That's not a racist thing, is it?
8. Why do people continue to buy black computers?
9. Why don't you write a Freakonomics article about that topic?
10. Why don't I write a Freakonomics article about that topic?

See, I'm getting all kinds of inspiration from this new computer stuff . . .

(Legitimate question for burb: Why have I lost all my text formatting capability in Blogger?)

A Whole New World

O.K., guess where I am? On my couch! And why, you ask, is that so exciting? Well, usually while blogging, I would be up in my office, where the computer is . . . but now, the computer can be anywhere I want it to be, because--I got a laptop! And a router! And it's a Mac, my first one ever, and I actually figured out how to set the whole thing up myself, so yes, I'm feeling a little proud right now. Granted, they've made things pretty user friendly since the last time I bought a computer, but still, there were a lot of steps involved, and I'm kind of amazed I didn't screw anything up.

The funny thing is, I sort of got tricked into buying this new computer--by my old computer. It was giving me some trouble last week--running really slow, trouble connecting to the Internet, etc. I kept running the anti-spyware programs, defragging, scanning discs, etc., and nothing really helped. Finally, yesterday morning, I couldn't get on the Internet at all, and I just got fed up. I've needed a new computer for a long time--my old one was from 2000--so I just decided to bite the bullet. And I bit it big-time, because as we all know, Macs aren't cheap.

Anyway, after a surprisingly pleasant sales experience at the Apple store, I headed home with all my new toys--computer, router, printer, and, to top it all off, an iPod Nano. I got out the manual, set everything up, and then tried to get on the Internet . . . and nothing happened. As it turns out, the whole problem was with my Internet connection, not my computer. So, thanks to my Internet provider, I'm out $1700, but it's totally worth it. I have iTunes at home! I can watch Quicktime videos! I have a new printer with a scanner and I can . . . scan things! And, I finally got an iPod! You know what's better than walking your dog through the woods on a beautiful Sunday afternoon? Walking your dog through the woods on a beautiful Sunday afternoon while listening to your favorite music. Our walks are going to be a whole new experience.

So, I'd like to take a moment to welcome myself to the 21st century. It's about time.

Heather needs . . .

. . . well, for one thing, more sleep. After eight years of a steady 9-to-5 (or, sometimes, 8-to-6) job, I've finally reached the point where I can't sleep in anymore. Don't get me wrong--this was never a goal, it just happened. I've become so accustomed to getting up at a certain time every morning (which, lately, is about 6:00) that, even on the weekends, I can't seem to sleep past 7:00 or maybe 8:00 if I'm lucky. I've always known people--even people without children!--who experience this, but I've never understood it. Sure, you might naturally wake up at a certain time because your body's used to it, but why not just go back to sleep? For many years, I was able to do this, but no more. Lately I've found that as soon as I wake up, my mind starts to race--I just start thinking about stuff, and it's impossible to get back to sleep. Is this just a part of getting older? Teenagers and young adults can sleep like the dead; older people, not so much. So, apparently I've moved into the category of "older people." I'm trying to look at this as a positive thing, though, for two reasons--one, I need to appreciate the fact that I have interesting things going on in my life to think about, and two, waking up early gives me more time to get stuff done.



But anyway, that's not what this post is about. I'm totally ripping off an idea I got from another blog. (I would link to this other blog, but I can't find it now. I do a lot of blog-trolling, and I lost track of which one I saw this on . . . oh well.) Anyway, the idea is to Google your name with "needs" after it (e.g., "Heather needs") and see what pops up. I totally recommend trying this at home, kids--everyone enjoys the narcissistic experience of Googling their own name, right? (Well, except child molesters, I guess, and other assorted criminals . . . but I digress.)



Anyhoo, here are my top five "needs," according to Google. This totally cracked me up.



Heather Needs Men . . . Now!

Heather needs to start wearing a brassiere

Heather Needs Two Therapists

Heather needs something more to be satisfied

Heather Needs Gatorade



So, apparently, the Heathers out there in Googleland tend to be slutty, thirsty, unfulfilled, and in serious need of therapy. (Two therapists are needed! One won't do!) Hmmm.

Experiment

So, yesterday I left a half-full cup of chocolate pudding in the fridge at work. (In the work cafeteria, they sell these huge cups of pudding, so I usually only eat half of it, or I share it with someone. Sometimes our whole lunch table shares a cup. We're tight like that.) Anyway, today I get to see if the pudding is still there, or if someone took it.

This has happened before.

Not Everybody Loves Raymond

Have you ever noticed how, if you have cable, some shows are on, like, all the time? It seems some of the smaller networks just don't have much in their reportoire, and so they wind up showing the same stuff over and over. Sometimes, this is a good thing--e.g., if I find myself wanting to just veg out for an hour or so in the evening, I can almost always watch Law & Order. And if I want to veg out for half an hour, I can almost always watch Scrubs. But there is a dark side to this phenomena, as I experienced the other day when I accidentally watched an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, which is another show that's on all the friggin' time. Unfortunately.


So, how did I "accidentally" watch this show, you ask? Fair enough question, but I swear, it was a legitimate mistake. I was talking on the phone and had the T.V. on (muted) and was channel surfing (yes, while the T.V. was muted. Doesn't everyone do this??). Then the phone conversation got suddenly very interesting, and I stopped channel surfing to devote my attention to the call. The phone call went on for a while, and when it was over, I hung up the phone and unmuted the television in one fluid, subconscious movement. (Yes, I'm graceful like that.) And I sat there for a while, thinking about the conversation I'd just had. Gradually, it dawned on me that the T.V. was no longer showing the program I had landed on when I stopped surfing (The Simpsons) and was now showing another program (You Know What). And I had been kind of watching this new show for a few minutes (while thinking, you know?), and now I was kind of actively watching it, completely by accident. Makes total sense, yes?


And there's just no other way to say this--I fucking hate this show. It's not funny. The entire concept is so tired. (Seriously, how many sitcoms have been done or are being done right now centering around the whole suburban-family-with-idiosyncracies shtick? Count them. I dare you.) Every character in this show is a stereotype taken to the extreme. The nagging, intrusive mother-in-law. The boorish father-in-law who never misses an opportunity to say something hateful and not-funny about his wife. The doofus older brother. Adorable children who just kind of hang around sometimes but are mostly absent and have no discernible impact on the lives of their parents.* An assortment of wacky neighbors, acquaintances, maintenance guys, and hangers-on. And, my personal favorites--the bitchy, annoying wife with absolutely no sense of humor, whose personality has been molded by the fact that her husband is a whiny, childlike character who can't be depended on to rear their (mostly absent) children correctly or to make any thoughtful decisions whatsoever, and so the situation has devolved to the point where he is basically another one of her children and a constant source of stress to her, as well as a constant receptacle of her bitching, and they never have sex, and when they do it's a major event, and the whole show revolves around this. Absolutely fucking hilarious.


The really insipid part, though, is that this show was conceptualized and is presented as the Everyman Show. Everything about it is designed to appear . . . well, take your pick--normal (whatever that is), bland, average, unremarkable, inoffensive, noncontroversial. The people are average looking. The house is bland. There's not a single character developed to the point of being even slightly interesting. And nothing ever happens. (And not in the way that nothing ever happens on Seinfeld--that was intentional.)


So, what we wind up with is a show featuring the scenario like the one I saw the other night. Please forgive me for actually outlining the plot of an ELR episode, but it's kind of essential to the post:


In brief, Raymond and his brother are out of town on a trip for some reason, and they're hanging out in this hotel room (which is the noncontroversial thing for two grown men on their own in a strange city to be doing). One thing leads to another (through, of course, an unlikely yet wacky but still innocuous chain of events that I won't try to recreate here), and they wind up losing Raymond's wedding ring. As gripping and drama-ridden as this plot turn already is, it gets even more complicated. At the airport waiting for his flight home the next day, Raymond gets hit on by an extremely attractive woman who, of course, is irrisistibly drawn to this average looking, not very clever man due to the fact that he is not wearing a wedding ring. (Yep, that's pretty much how it is with us single women. We see a bare wedding-ring finger, we move in for the kill.) Raymond graciously yet politely turns her down, immediately (which is the noncontroversial thing for a grown man . . . ah, you get the point). So, whew! Close call there, huh? Isn't that enough drama for one episode?


Oh no, it is not. In fact, we're just getting started. Raymond makes it home, and eventually his wife finds out about both the lost ring and the hitting-upon incident (despite Raymond's not-very-smart-yet-wacky attempts to conceal both from her). And, of course, she totally hits the roof. She's furious with him for accidentally losing his ring and then being hit on by someone while he's just passively sitting around. The fact that he subsequently turns this person down doesn't seem to matter one bit--someone hit on him while he was sitting in the airport! And that's the dramatic tension that needs to be resolved by the end of the half-hour. This situation is presented as an actual problem.


You know what my problem is? The fact that this show ran for almost 10 years and was wildly popular. And the fact that it will probably be in syndication for about the next 125 years and will continue to be watched by millions of people every day--on purpose! This is the kind of thing that makes me cynical about the future of humankind.



*This will heretofore be known as the "Rachel and Ross's Baby Syndrome." That kid was never around. It was like they never had her. This, to me, has a much more negative impact on the minds on our youth than any depiction of drug use, premarital sex, etc. Really, you have all these shows where people have babies and then just carry on with their lives as usual. What a cruel message to send to young people.

I may have just declared war

So, I've been conceptualizing this post that deconstructs "Everybody Loves Raymond" and explains why I hate this show so, so much. But I'm going to have to put that on hold and write about what just went down at the park, because it may be the beginning of an ongoing saga.


As many of you know, I walk Josie every evening in the park behind my apartment. It's a very lovely park, with wide open grassy fields and a little patch of woods with a dirt path that runs along the river. Oh, and a bike path . . . where our saga begins.


First, though, I have to say--I love this park, and I love walking Josie there, but I have issues with some aspects of it. They are as follows:


1. Two fellow dog walkers (both women) who hate me for no apparent reason. (But I don't really care, so this isn't much of an issue.)
2. The ultimate frisbee players, who stake out huge patches of the best field with their stupid orange boundary flags and play that game all the time like the fate of the free world depends on it.
3. The cyclists.


O.K., so there is a bike path that runs through the park, and I completely accept the fact that there are going to be people riding bikes on the path. Fine. I play by the rules. I keep Josie on the leash, always, when we are on the path, and she trots dociley ahead of me, always staying to the right, just like she's supposed to. And what are the cyclists supposed to do? They're supposed to warn us when they're coming and then pass us on the left. Everyone knows this. And if they followed the rules (like I do!), there would be no problem. But they don't always follow the rules. In fact, they often don't, and I'm getting fed up.


First of all, the bike path is there for a reason, basically that they're supposed to keep their friggin' bikes on it. Lately, though, some of them have been riding their bikes on the path through the woods. They've even gone so far as to build jumps on the path. (And I just have to say--a grown man taking his bike over these pathetic little jumps in a patch of woods that is obviously meant for dog-walking is just . . . wrong and sad. And it is always men who do this, by the way.) Then tonight, I saw two of them riding their bikes through the fields, which caused me to seethe a little. But the last leg of our walk, when we were actually on the bike path, heading back from the cemetery, was the last straw.


So I'm walking Josie in the manner described above, with her on the leash and just trotting along in front of me, well to the right. I see a cyclist heading toward us, coming pretty fast (as many of them do. The bike path is their little solo-Indy 500-on-a-bike.). We keep walking, and just as the oncoming cyclist approaches us, another one comes up from behind, also moving really fast, giving no indication of his approach. And in the perfect storm of circumstances that ensued, they both passed us at the exact same time, which meant that the guy approaching from behind didn't, couldn't, get over, and so headed straight down the middle, and actually brushed my shoulder as he flew by. Josie jumped, instinctively, and I, also instinctively, jerked her leash and pulled her off into the grass on the right. All of this, of course, happened in a split second. In the next second, I was shouting, "Jesus Christ!" I'm not sure why that particular outburst escaped from me; a much more appropos exclamation would have been, "You fucking assholes!" Which I must have picked up on subconciously, because a second later, I was shouting, "You fucking assholes!" (It just so happened that two more cyclists came up behind me at this precise moment and probably thought I was shouting it at them, which I wasn't, but anyway . . . .) So then, in the next second, I'm turned around and looking back at the guy who was originally the oncoming guy, and lo and behold, he actually turns his head around . . . to see what had happened? So of course, I give him the finger. And not some wimpy little semi-hidden finger, either--I gave it to him high and strong. I wasn't even thinking of what I was doing. I was livid. Of course, it was probably more the other guy's fault, but the other guy didn't turn around to look, so. . . .


Anyhow, in summary, I have now shouted obscenities at four cyclists and given the finger to one. And I'm not planning on backing down. This thing is bigger than just me, anyway. While I respect the right of cyclists to ride on the bike path, there is absolutely no reason they need to go that fast. The path can get crowded--lots of people, many of them with children, like the adorable Asian boy Josie and I met tonight. (Apparently, the Chinese word for dog is wa-wa. This kid didn't speak a word of English, and neither did his parents, but we all spoke the language of dog! He got the biggest kick out of petting Josie--it was really sweet.) Anyway, there's a lot of potential for people, kids, and dogs to be hit when these cyclists go so fast, and especially when they refuse to slow down even when two of them are obviously going to converge . . . ugh, I'm still pissed.

So basically, I'm not going to take it anymore. I have a speech all ready for any of the woods-path-jumping guys that come even close to hitting Josie (which involves them having no legal right to be riding their bikes in any unpaved part of the park). Same for the guys riding their bikes through the fields (which, why?? Why would you do that when there's a path right there??) And I'm not going to be shy about giving the lead-foot cyclists a bit of friendly advice, either. So yeah, I will soon be known as That Crazy Dog-Walking Woman Who Hates Cyclists, but I don't care, and I will have the support of many other dog walkers. Do not underestimate us. Mess with our dogs, feel our wrath!

O.K., I feel better. You should try writing, people--it really does help when you want to punch someone.

A Whole New Meaning of "Freedom of Choice"

So, I guess I can take comfort in the fact that I have at least 22 years to change my mind?

Anatomy of a First (and Last) Date

O.K., this is a good one.

So, Saturday night, I went on a date with a guy named . . . let's say, Drew.* I met Drew at, of all places, the convenience store down the road. We were both waiting in line, and he struck up a conversation with me, and I was strongly attracted to two things: his striking resemblance to Matthew McConaughey, and the fact that he was not buying Lotto tickets. (He was, in fact, purchasing a bottle of Arizona Iced Tea and a pack of gum.) He seemed interesting enough, and he was totally adorable. We walked outside and continued our conversation, for about 10 minutes or so, and eventually we did the phone-number exchange thing, and he called me two days later. So far, so good.

Of course, I broke the first rule of dating by agreeing to go out on a Saturday night. For those of you who have been married since the Stone Age, this is now a rule. You do not go out for the first time on a weekend night. You first go out during the week, either for coffee or lunch or drinks right after work. You do not commit to dinner right away, nor do you give over any of your weekend time. I'm not much for rules, though, so Drew and I made plans to go to dinner on Saturday. (Oh wait, that's two rules broken. Oh well.)

So around 7:00 he picks me up and we head to this Mexican place. Margaritas in hand, we begin the first-date talk. And things go downhill almost immediately.

Right now, I must diverge and share some of my thoughts on what a first date should be like. First of all, you shouldn't get too deep into the whole personal-history thing. The basics are O.K.--three siblings, divorced parents, attended college at __________, divorced yourself once, etc. But rehashing too much of the life story is a waste of everyone's time, on both sides, if things don't work out . . . which, frankly, they often don't after a first date. It's tiring telling your whole life story over and over again, especially if, as with me, it's kind of complicated. And again, quite frankly, as fascinating as we all find our own stories to be, the details just aren't that interesting to other people, at least not at first. This works both ways, of course.


So, what sorts of things should you be talking about? Here's my list of acceptable (and, in some cases, essential) first-date topics:


1. Books
2. Music
3. Movies
4. Politics (Unlike other social settings, you should talk about politics on a first date. That way, if someone, say, approves of the Bush administration in any way, shape, or form, you can excuse yourself to go the restroom and then never return.)
5. Hobbies, on a limited basis (Your date might not be nearly as interested in, say, poker, quilting, crossword puzzles, etc., as you are.)
6. Any unique experiences/adventures you've had in your life (e.g., my time in Africa)
7. Your job, on a limited basis (Again, your job, unless you are Brad Pitt's personal assistant, is not nearly as fascinating to other people as you might imagine it to be.)
8. Children, if you have them (Although I do not have children myself, I do recognize that they are important enough to be included in first-date conversation.)


O.K., that's just off the top of my head, but you get the idea. You need to keep things focused on the fun, interesting aspects of life. But the topics themselves fade in comparison to the most important rule, which is: You need to show a modicum of interest in your date and let them get in a word in now and then. Maybe even ask them a question on occasion, rather than turning the conversation immediately back to yourself at every opportunity. Maybe, sometimes, actually acknowledging what they just said, rather than carrying on with your own spiel as if you were being filmed for an HBO special on the fascinating specialness that is you. Do you know what I mean?


Well, Drew didn't get this. Not at all. Instead, I was treated to about an hour and a half of the Drew Monologues. About 20 minutes into it, I started thinking about how I would rather be home playing online poker. An hour later, I was on my third margarita, trying to make him more interesting (because he was so damn cute), but even that didn't help. By the end of the evening, I was trying to figure out how to fend off mention of a second date, in case he brought it up.


You know, I just don't get the whole thing with guys not knowing, at all, how to talk to women. I don't understand it from an evolutionary standpoint. It's such a simple thing, and it's not like it's a secret--and, it would help them get laid a lot more, so you'd think they would've found a way to adapt by now. Of course, Drew is good-looking enough that maybe he gets laid a lot anyway. But it didn't happen for him that night. Poor Drew.

*Actually his real name. You'll never meet him, and he'll never read this, so it doesn't matter.

Flying-Solo Friday

So, here it is Friday evening, and I'm blogging. WTF, you ask? Shouldn't I be at happy hour? Why yes, in fact, usually I would be. In fact, I can't remember the last time I stayed home on a Friday night. But frankly, I'm exhausted. Work has been kicking my ass lately--not in a bad way, and in fact it's kind of exciting, but it's tiring. Also, I'm kind of happy-houred out tonight. Currently, I've got . . . let's see, about five different happy-hour groups going on, and so I've been going out a lot during the week. (We don't all go out every week, but it adds up.) Despite this, I still make it a rule to walk my dog for about 45 minutes a night (every night! Seriously!), so that adds to the tiredness. And it's not just physical tiredness--I'm also worn out on social interaction in general. So, I'm staying in tonight. And it's going to be awesome. The evening's plans are as follows:

1. Walk Josie (of course). We've been going on our walks a little later recently, now that it's light out til late. This way, we avoid the bulk of the other dog-walkers. I like them and all, but we want to walk, not stand around chatting. (This alludes to a whole other theme, by the way--the way a lot of people do not actually walk their dogs, but instead stand around at the park for a while while their dog maybe runs around and maybe just lies at their feet, getting no exercise. But I digress.)
2. Come home and fix myself some roasted garlic and chicken ravioli and drink wine.
3. Maybe blog again??? If not, read the awesome novel I'm into right now. (Review to come.)
4. Watch the season finale of my favorite show, which is, as we all know, Law & Order. (Just to clarify--I am not staying home in order to watch Law & Order; it's just a happy coincidence that the season finale happens to be on tonight.) While watching, I plan on eating some dark chocolate M&Ms, which may very well be the greatest invention of the last year and which I take total credit for.*
5. Play some online poker, hopefully while chatting with my male BFF, who also plays online. (I have a male BFF and a female BFF. They know who they are. Hi, you two!)
6. Go to bed at a decent time in order to get up and actually get something done tomorrow, for a friggin' change.

So, that's the plan. And now, I must go execute the first part and walk the dog. But first, before I forget . . .

Today I called the vet to schedule an appointment for one of my cats to get his shots. My vet's office is always extremely busy and so, of course, I was put on hold. When you're on hold with my vet, you get treated to this woman's voice talking constantly, plugging the various services the vet's office has to offer. Two things about her spiel today struck me:

1. She was going on about how, if your pet is over seven years old, a lot of shit (not her word) can happen that you're not even aware of. And so, you should bring your pet in every six months for a checkup. Um, right. This struck me as a scam in line with the three-month oil change, and it just ain't gonna happen. Are you kidding me? I have three pets--I would be bringing one of them in every other month! I don't get checkups myself that often--not nearly that often! These people are insane.
2. Need further proof of their insanity? She was also extolling the virtues of their new website, which is--I'm not kidding you--http://www.caninesemenbank.com/. Let me set the scene. I had the recording on speaker phone at work, and I was doing some other stuff and not really paying attention. Then all of a sudden, I hear this woman talking about how they were changing the course of reproduction. Since I was on hold with the vet, this naturally caught my attention. It's not as dramatic and freakish as it sounds, of course, but apparently, you can now freeze your male dog's semen and/or have your female dog impregnated by previously frozen semen. There are so many things wrong with this, I don't even know where to begin. First and foremost, I guess, is the question--what the hell is wrong with breeding dogs the old-fashioned way, i.e., just letting them have sex with each other as they will no doubt do if given the chance? (Although I must go on record as saying that, officially, I am against any kind of dog breeding at all until every dog and puppy in every pound and shelter in this country is adopted. Please adopt animals, people!) And second, there are so many things going on here that I do not want to think about--e.g., How do they collect this semen? How do they impregnate these dogs? What is wrong with these people? You know, stuff like that.

O.K., speaking of dogs, I'm off to do a totally normal thing and take mine for a walk. Enjoy your Friday night, whatever you may be doing.

*I take credit because I wrote to the M&M people about a year ago suggesting that they make dark chocolate M&Ms, and voila! They have. Yes, my narcissism really does run this deep at times.

New Onion Article Proposals

For those of you who read the Onion, here are some articles I'd like to see:

Tony Blair Visits U.S. to Stick Face Up Bush's Ass One Last Time
Final ass lick is "for old time's sake," outgoing prime minister says

Jerry Falwell Finds Self in Hell, Blames Gays and Lesbians
"And why aren't there more of them down here, anyway?" smoldering preacher asks

Drive By

So, I was off work one day last week and driving around doing errands, and on a whim I decided to drive by my ex's house. When we first split up a year and a half ago, I used to do this frequently, because . . . well, that's what you do, right? Or maybe that's just me? I'm not sure why I was doing it--I was the one who left, after all, and I didn't want to get back together, and I didn't really miss him either, because he was being such a jerk. I was just curious, I guess. Also, it was easy, because I pass so closely to the house anyway on my way to and from work. But I stopped doing the drive-by thing a long time ago. It's kind of pointless--I mean, yeah, there's the house, and yeah, it looks the same . . . now what? But I wanted to drive by last week just to see if he was still living there. I haven't heard from him in a few months, and for all I knew, he had sold the house and moved, as he had mentioned he might do. But no, it looked like he was still there--there were the same curtains (the ones I picked out and hung) in the front window, and there were the curtains my mom made in the kitchen windows.

It's always a little weird to see that house, the one in which I lived for five years but will most likely never enter again. It's weird, too, to live so close by--I drive the same route to work, basically, that I always did, I go to the same grocery store, etc. There are also a lot of shops and restaurants around here that I used to go to with my ex. I sometimes think I should have moved farther away, to a different neighborhood, at least, to make more of a fresh start . . . but I love it here, and I had kind of a proprietary attitude about the whole thing, like, why should I have to move to a completely different area? And now I'm glad I stayed--I love my apartment and my little part of the neighborhood, and surprisingly, I've never run into my ex, not even once. (Of course, now that I wrote that, I'll probably see him at the grocery store tonight . . . ) I do wonder sometimes if he and I will ever speak again, though. It's been a while--I called him last, let's see, about three months ago, and we talked for two hours. Then he e-mailed me the next day to tell me something he forgot, that one of his friend's moms had died . . . and then he just had to add a little patronizing bit to the e-mail that pissed me off. And I haven't responded. So I guess technically the ball's in my court, but something is holding me back from contacting him. I'm not sure what it is--just a can of worms I don't feel like opening.

I don't know why I'm blabbering on about this. It just strikes me sometimes how strange it is, to have a person in your life for years and years and live with them, and then all of a sudden, they're out of your life completely. It just makes everything seem . . . very fragile. There's your deep thought for the day.

How To Woo Me

No, this is not a post about my love life--sorry if I misled you.

So, today I get home and check the mail, and there's a solicitation letter from Harper's Magazine. Normally I just throw junk mail like that away, but I do like Harper's, and I used to have a subscription, so I thought I'd check out what they were offering. And I have to say, someone put some thought into this marketing campaign . . . but with mixed results.

The letter they included is chatty with a conspiratorial tone, and it starts out by stroking my ego, warming me up to the pitch:

"Dear Heather,
You thrive on independent thinking. You're intrigued by events and ideas. And you read as much as you have time for."

So far so good! Harper's knows me so well! (But how do they know . . . ?)

The next part, however, proceeds to semi-insult me:

"But there is far too much information to cope with these days. Too much disinformation. Too much misinformation. The more you read, the more you wonder what it means."

O.K., so I read a lot, but I'm not so great with discernment, I guess? In fact, I even have trouble piecing together the meaning of what I read? Thanks a lot, Harper's. What's more, I'm left to wonder what the difference is between "misinformation" and "disinformation." (I'm guessing "misinformation" is unintentional, while "disinformation" is put out there on purpose? Of course, now I'm questioning my reasoning abilities in general, so who knows?)

Then I am reassured:

"Our mission is not to add to the information explosion but to help you defend yourself against it . . . to rout the propoganda peddlers . . . to make sense of a nonsensical world." [ellipses theirs]

Wow. I hadn't even realized that the entire world was nonsensical, let alone that a mere magazine could clear everything up for me! Oh, happy day! The letter then goes on and on in a rather patronizing tone, extolling the virtues of everything Harper's, occasionally tossing out some rather dubious claims:

"Harper's doesn't presume to tell you what to think. We simply tell you what people are thinking. Nor do we preach a particular brand of politics. We'll gladly ruffle feathers on both the left and right wings."

Oh, come on now. Like I said, I used to subscribe to Harper's, and it's definitely left-wing (as most magazines with actual thought behind them tend to be). Not that that bothers me--but don't pretend to be something you're not.

The best thing they did, though, was to include a complete version of the Harper's List, as well as a listing of recently published articles . . . and that is what eventually sucked me in. So, I'm going to resubscribe, but not because of anything they put in this really long letter that someone obviously took a long time to draft. Maybe I should let them know that.

[Despite their missteps, Harper's still knows me better than Ticketmaster, who today sent me an e-mail urging, "Don't Miss Poison!" Oh Ticketmaster, it is so over between us. You're pathetic. Really.]

Road Trip

So, this weekend I headed up to scenic* Medina, Ohio, for a poker tournament--a little mini road trip. (It's about two hours away.) I know that seems like a long way to go for a poker game, but seriously, I'm having a hard time finding any decent games in Columbus, and I was really itching to play in a live (as opposed to online) game. I discovered this game through an online meetup group and, as much as I was hesitant at first to send a $200 buy-in check to a total stranger, my gut told me it was all completely legit, and it was. The tournament was held at this other guy's house. There were about 30 people there, and everything was very well organized. Also, since the thing started at 6:00 and I was optimistically planning on being in it until the end, I got a hotel room so I wouldn't have to drive back at midnight--making the whole thing even more of a road trip.

At the tournament itself, things did not go exactly as planned. Due to a completely stupid play on my part, I got knocked out about two hours into the thing. I don't want to rehash the hand that doomed me--believe me, I've played it out in my head enough. I didn't get a bad beat--it was just a bad, bad play, and I should have known better. But, as everyone who plays poker knows, every game is a learning experience in a number of ways, and at this particular tournament, I discovered a new leak in my game.

For those of you who don't know, a "leak" is exactly what it sounds like--a bad habit that causes your chips to leak away from your stack and, of course, money to leak out of your pockets. There are lots of common leaks--playing too many hands, for example, or not letting go of a good hand even when you're almost positive you're beat by an even better hand. Discovering your leaks and trying to fix them is key to improving your game, so I'm always on the lookout for my own. And my game has gotten better because of this, although I will admit I've still got a long way to go in live play. (My online game has actually gotten a lot better, but online poker has different leaks than live play.)

So, to describe my leak, let me set the scene a little bit--there are 30 of us in two big rooms, and I'm one of two women in the whole place. And as much as gender shouldn't matter in poker (as I like to say, it's not weight lifting), it does. And it's necessary for me to acknowledge this and evaluate how it affects my game. I've discovered that there are basically three types of guys at any given poker table, and they tend to be pretty evenly distributed. One type will play against a woman in the exact same way he'd play against a man--that is, he evaluates the player without regard to gender. (Naturally, these are the good players.) Another type doesn't believe that a woman is capable of bluffing (oh, those naive, silly boys), and they will fold to me whenever I raise unless they have the nuts. The third type just can't stand folding to a woman, and they'll call when they shouldn't. So, on top of the usual job of trying to figure out everyone's playing style and tells, I've got to evaluate which type of guy everyone is. It's a lot to think about. When I'm concentrating well and really paying attention to all of this, I play a good game.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case at this tournament, and I didn't figure out why until later. As it so happens, the guy on my immediate left was a total cutie pie and, as I discovered through talking to him, smart and interesting as well. (He's an attorney, which is no surprise--I'm like an attorney magnet. If there's an attorney in the room, I'll wind up meeting him or her. I don't know why this is.) Anyway, naturally we started flirting a bit, and I was just . . . very aware of him sitting there. And looking back on my final hand in which I made a very bad decision, I realize I was thinking more about my conversation with this guy than I was about the hand or the game in general. Bad, bad leak.

Interestingly, the guy in question busted out as well a short while later and joined me in the cash game that started up . . . so maybe I affected his game in a similar manner? And by this time, everyone had had a few drinks and the flirting was even more prevalent, so I just started looking at the game as more of a social event than a money-making opportunity, which of course meant I dumped off some more money--$80, in fact. So, to recap, I spent $200 on the buy-in, $60 on the (rather cheap) hotel room, $80 on the cash game, $15 on beer and food, and about $30 on gas, for a total of $385 to play in a tournament in which I wasn't really paying close attention to the game. This was not smart poker, people. It was, however, a lot of fun, and totally worth it. Also, I just cashed out $500 online, so I'm still ahead. (If, in fact, the money ever actually finds its way into my account, which is an extremely complicated process in online poker these days--more on that later.)

[By the way, I was struck by something during my drive to Medina and back--what the hell is up with that "Leaf" restaurant you see all over Ohio? At almost every exit, you see those signs telling you which restaurants are where, and it's always like, McDonald's, Taco Bell, Wendy's, Burger King . . . and Leaf. First off, what a totally stupid name for a restaurant. "Leaf"?? That's good--name your restaurant after something inedible. And second, has anyone ever actually eaten there? If you have, let me know. I'm just curious.]

[*I'm being kind. It's not that scenic.]

Holy Crap II*

[*Note: This phrase has become my go-to exclamation for whenever something is outrageously, shockingly expensive or whenever my financial stupidity far exceeds its usual level. So, you kind of know where this post is going.]

As you know, I have written before about the inherent dangers of text messaging. Yesterday, I encountered an entirely new hazard--financial ruin. O.K., not ruin, actually, but stress and strain for sure. This happened when I logged on to my cell phone account and discovered that my text message bill for the month of April came to . . . $100!! This is on top of my usual bill of about $60. Shocked yet fascinated, I pulled up my itemized bill and was amazed to discover that in a single month, I had sent and received over 600 text messages. WTF?? I had no idea I was texting that often. It was a real eye-opener.

So today, I did what I should have done a long time ago, which is to sign up for unlimited text messaging for one low monthly fee. ("Low" is relative, by the way. Sometimes I feel like I'm getting low monthly fee'd to death.) But it's too late for this month's bill--$100, down the drain.

In the meantime, I also found out yesterday that my work phone (the Treo), which I thought had unlimited text messaging (and which I've been trying to get people to text to rather than my cell phone), does not, or at least, it didn't--I'm trying to remedy that too. I guess it's a lucky thing that people weren't using my work number during the month of April--I doubt a $100 text-messaging bill would have gone over too well with the finance people.

So anyhoo, all of this has led me once again to contemplate the role of text messaging in the dating scene of today. It truly is a brave new world. Before my divorce, I had never sent a single text message, but as soon as I started dating, I realized it's THE form of communication with new people you meet these days. Who knew? And it's not just a trend among the young, either--guys my age do it as well. (O.K., in reality, the closest I've gotten to someone "my age" is 34, but close enough, yes?) And I have to say, at first I was pretty resistant. Why go through the annoying process of punching all these little phone buttons (and learning a whole new language--T9! Some of you know what I mean!) when it would be much easier to just call the person or, if an immediate response isn't needed anyway, e-mail them.

But there are some definite advantages to texting that have become apparent to me as I've gotten more into it. The most obvious one is that, unlike on a phone call, you don't have to respond right away--you can let the phone just sit there while you go about your business, and you can answer when convenient. A happy side effect of this is that you can think about your response more--you have time to come up with something witty and clever before answering. (No more thinking of the perfect thing to say after it's too late!) This explains why it's such a hot phenomenon in the dating world--you always want to come off as witty and clever to people you're dating, right? Now you can! (Of course, the converse is true as well: If someone takes a while to text me back, and the response is still dull, unintelligible, etc., a big red flag goes up with me, and I tend to kind of write the person off. Harsh, but true.)

Another advantage is that you can be much more . . . flirtatious, sooner, in text messages than you would be on the phone. Things you might be hesitant to actually say to a person you can put in a text, with a little wink-wink icon . . . you can get away with a lot this way. The recipient can't really tell if you're joking, teasing, whatever, when they don't have the tone of your voice to go on, and it just makes things more interesting at times.

Anyway, since I also text people I'm not dating, here's some info--for now, use my personal cell phone number, not my Treo number, for texting. If this changes (again!), I'll let you know.

At last, I can rest easy . . .

The mystery is solved.

I love the picture of the guy pumping his fist. What do you think is going through his mind? Pick one:

A) Yay, I'm a father!
B) Yay, millions are coming my way!

Please please please let this story go away now.