Thursday, June 30, 2005

I apologize..

My last post was a Part II sort of thing; but since Blogger never posted Part I, it made no sense at all. And I don't even remember, really, what Part I was all about. I was bitching about traffic or something. Anyway...

I went to my first National's game last night. That's the Washington National's baseball team for those of you that still don't know that DC once again has a baseball team. It was pretty awesome for me since I had never been to anything at RFK stadium. (The old Redskin's stadium). Due to the fact that the Capital Building was (again) evacuated; the traffic sucked. We got there at the end of the first inning. While entering the stadium, my friend breezed through security & I got stopped. Security Guy indicated that he wanted to go through my purse. While he was busy digging though the girl's purse in front of me, I arranged my purse so that there was a tampon on top. Not that I was trying to hide anything. It was in the interest of time. And it worked. He spent 2 minutes going through the purse in front of me & just took a mere glance in mine.

Which just confirms my theory that young men are intimidated by tampons. This security guy was about 20. He passed me through so fast; you'd have thought that tampon had Big Gnarly Gnashing Teeth. I could have had a Big Gnarly Switchblade hidden in there with which I could have cut away his pretty little "I'm a Security Guard" pass from around his neck before he knew it.


So...we're making time. We get to our seats. Awesome seats. 10 rows up behind 3rd base. I'm spoiled forever. Chris looks up at the black sky coming in from the east & says, "It's gonna rain". I say, "Nah. It looks like its breaking up!" (Always the optimist) The fucking bottom falls out like nothing I've ever seen before. And as great as it is to have incredible seats; it's just a cluster-fuck trying to beat everybody else to the canopy. I've never been so soaked in my life. And I was having the time of my life. There's THUNDER. LIGHTNING. CRAZY RAIN. Hell-Fire & Damnation. And I'm from the South. If I say it's a Crazy Storm; it's a CRAZY STORM! We're all mad-rushing to shelter & then a huge roar goes up to the guys covering the field.

And then we sit. For two hours. The first hour was one of the worse summer storms I've ever seen. You know how you see the lightening & then count til the thunder? It was all on top of each other. No counting. I was impressed. I wasn't aware that Virginia could do a summer storm this well.


The storm ends, but we're not allowed to go back to our seats for 30 minutes after the last lightning sighting. The game finally resumed & we stuck it out til the end of the 6th at 11:45pm. In the rain. Tied 2/2. I don't think the game ended til 1am.

I loved it when they pulled the tarp off the field. About twenty guys running with the tarp. I was thinking; what do they do if someone trips? Do they just look for a lump & then do a head-count? Just wondering.


My b-day is coming up. I've decided that all I need for my birthday is "Nice Thoughts". Seriously. Don't puke over the idea. That's really all I need.


Also, I'm two months single as of this past Tuesday. I'm thinking I may start accepting 2nd dates now as opposed to just not returning the phone call after the first. That's proper; right? I'm nothing if not kosher.


Monday, June 27, 2005

I'm just waiting....

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

I heard something very funny (disturbing) on the radio yesterday. I don't remember it verbatim; but the gist was this:

"Is Eddie going out with us tonight?".

"No. He can't. He has to stay home with the kid."

"The kid doesn't even look like him! He's a smart guy. When is he going to get a clue?"

The advertisement goes on to tell you how you can order a "discreet" DNA test to determine if your child is really yours.

Am I the only one that finds this a little bizarre? The approach; I mean. It was like a reverse Trojan commercial.


Don't mind me. I haven't had sex in 3 months. I really like the Toyota commercial. The one where they're crashing the cars. The kid says, "Do the gold one!". Reseach-Man says, "That's Desert Sand Mica". Kid says, "Whatever. Just crash it!". Whatever, indeed.


I'm house-sitting again for the same people from last month. All was going well until yesterday evening when one of the dogs turned up limping. I've determined that nothing is broken. She won't let me press her nails; so I'm thinking she caught one of her nails on something & it's going to be sore for a few days. I'm hoping that's all it is & not some dreaded spider bite on the pad of her second toe that will spread venom to all of her vital organs & she will just drop dead in the middle of the night. Trust me. When you are house-sitting; that's the kind of senario that comes to mind when something other than perfect happens.


So...your mission is: Figure out what your most ultimate vacation would be & then buy me a ticket to that place. I really need a vacation.


Thursday, June 16, 2005

Apparently; I'm pulling off the "Sassy, yet Shy" look.

I got a 35$ tip on a 23$ tab today. The guy told me that I struck him as sassy at first; and then I seemed a little shy. And he liked that. WHAT? All I did was give him his GM with a beer back and then asked him to move a seat over to make room for the 3 girls trying to find space at the bar. I'm VERY unclear as to which point I appeared "shy". I pretty much know when I appeared "sassy".

Actually, I don't really care. 100%+ tip? And I didn't even have to talk to him? He can think anything he wants.


My favorite line from the movie "Clueless": You're a Virgin that can't drive!" Too Harsh.


Very cool move made by the people I house-sat for last. I start sitting for them again this coming Sunday. They're going to check on the house they're building in Palm Beach. Came in to see me at work last night with a Gift-Bag. Gift-Bag included their itinerary for their upcoming trip, keys to the house, check for me, very cool perfumes from the France trip, and an envelope. The envelope was addressed to "Auntie Kimberly" & had a note inside written to me from the dogs thanking me for taking care of them the last time their "parents" went out of town. And a $100.00 bill. They had already paid me a very generous amount for the job upfront. Very cool that they followed up with such a nice tip. Suffice it to say, I will do my best to keep the dogs alive while they are in Florida. And again, next month while they are in London for 11 days.

You normally don't get tipped for a house-sitting job. The price is what it is. And that's all. Very Classy on their part & I will, in turn, make sure that I am available any time they need me. The heated pool, bottomless liquor cabinet, and insistence that I use both to my desire are mere distractions. Seriously.


So. I think I'm in Phase 11. Phase 1 being: "I am SO much better off without him". Phase 6 is: "I'm remembering a few good things; but the bad things were SO bad". Phase 11 is: "I'm on a date with you. I'm looking at you over the table & I'm thinking, 'Shut up, Shut up, Shut up. I just met you & you're boring the fuck out of me.'" I'm going to stop dating new people & go on Sabbatical. Straight away. For their sake as much as mine.

In as much as I think it's a sin that a woman such as myself is not in a relationship & having sex on a regular basis; I also believe that there should be actual feelings involved in said relationship. So, there ya go.


Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Major 1990 - 2005


My heart & prayers go out to my sister, Paige, who lost her dear friend and companion, Major. Major had been in bad health for the last couple of years. Paige knew that it was only a matter of time. She got up Saturday and knew; after realizing that he had not been able to get up at all during the night; the time had come.


It is a very hard thing to have to decide when to put a pet down. Medical technology for animals is such that you can pretty much do anything for a pet that you can do for a human as far as prolonging their lives. Organ replacements, what have you. You can spend thousands on a 3 year old dog/cat & they can live for another 10 years. But, when a pet is advanced in years & has had a full life; it's even harder to make that choice. How do you bring yourself to decide, "Today is the day."?


It is my belief that when an elderly pet no longer has the quality of life that we would want for ourselves; it is time to go. Paige told me that she feels that Major felt it, too. She said that when he was lying in her arms at the vets office; he looked up and licked her face. His heart stopped before Dr. Battle had even finished giving him the first shot. He was ready to go.


I love you, Paige. Keep in mind that Major is another Angel up there looking out for us.



Friday, June 10, 2005

"If it weren't for the idiots,

the village would be a great place."

This great quote is from my friend, B. Yesterday when I asked him how his day was. He's a lobbyist. I can't say for who; but doesn't that just speak VOLUME'S?? It's such a great quote; I wish I had come up with it.


Disclaimer: That isn't me!!!

I've gotten several emails complimenting me on my body based on pics I've posted here. The pics are things I've come across on the Web that I like. I always try to make sure that the photographer is credited anytime I post a pic. And I like to write a little quip about the photo. I thought that was clear. I just want to make sure that noone thinks that I am trying to pass these pics off as me. Trust me. If it were me, there would be a BIG intro saying, "Look At ME!" cause these girls are gorgeous. It's purely gratuitous. And I think it's funny that I've only gotten a handful of comments on the guy pics. I should post more guy pics.


I got a haircut last weekend. My summer cut. Very Short. My good friend A. informed me that I don't have the boobs to carry off this cut. His rationalization is that you need some extreme trait to carry off such a short haircut. (My neck is shaved.) I say, "I'm 5'8"". Nope. "I have an angular face." Nope. "I have big brown eyes." Nope. "I have a nose ring." God, no! "I look good in a thong." Hmmm. Maybe. "I'm in charge of the music AND the alcohol in this place." YES!!! You definitely look good with that haircut!

A. is such a whore. But you didn't hear it from me. You READ it somewhere. Yeah. That's the story we're sticking to.


Wednesday, June 08, 2005

I've become one of those people.

Those people I've always pitied. The ones that get out of a relationship & swear they will never have another one because, "I just can't get hurt again!".

I've always grieved an appropriate amount of time (a month or three) & then moved on. The grieving time has usually been comparable to the amount of time we had been together. One year = 1 month; and so on and so forth. Altogether, They say (and I still want to be President of THEY) it takes half the time you were together to get over it. I've never found that to be true; personally.

So...I find myself in personal uncharted territory. I can't seem to go out with anyone. It's been 5 weeks and a day & I can't accept a date. Is it possible to be bored on a date before you've even been on it?

A couple of guys that have asked me out recently seemed promising. But, I found myself predicting what they would wear, where we would go, what they would say; and then I just wanted to order Dessert right after the Appetizer & get the fuck out of there because I was SO bored. What, pray tell, does that mean?

I know what it means & it makes me a High-Maintenance Bitch.


I've always dated men that knew maybe, 80% of what to do on a date. Of course, after a couple months & you've become exclusive; even that seems to go out the window. I was totally spoiled by this last guy. Even though he had some really bad issues (Liar, Cheater, what have you) he knew how to treat a woman. The year that we saw each other; he treated me like a princess. He never failed to open a door, order a meal, lay his freakin' coat across broken glass on a sidewalk. Jesus! I was SO snowed!

I'm a sucker to a certain point because I'm use to being treated a certain way. My father is a true Southern Gentleman. Growing up, he always opened the door for me. He always walked on the street-side when we would walk on the sidewalk. He came around to open the car door. Those are the things I am use to.

(My NY ex asked me one time, "Do you realize that every time we walk up to a door; you always step back & wait for me to open the door for you? What's that all about?" I didn't realize at the time that I did that; but Hey! That's the way I was raised! Show a little respect!)


Bottom Line: I've been stung, I think. By an asshole; which makes it even worse.
I don't want to be one of those people that are afraid to get involved again. Seriously. I'm the bad-ass bitch that will kick you out of my bar FOREVER if you're not nice. I'll spray you with my soda gun & laugh when your linen shirt gets wet.

And I can be a complete Angel. Until someone spoils me.


Thursday, June 02, 2005

I Am Tired.

I know I haven't hit on anything new here; but I just have to ask. Have you ever been Just Plain Tired? Not a, "I haven't had any sleep" tired, or "I'm in such a rut" tired. I'm talking Just Plain Tired.

My gas light came on this morning & I thought, "Goddamn! I need gas? Again? Can't I get a fucking break?" Like having to put gas in the car isn't something that's inevitable. I think I actually felt slighted for a moment. Like I was the only person that has a car that requires gas. I was so bored with the thought of having to stop at a station & go through all the motions; I was looking for a parking spot & a taxi stand. How sad is that?


Miss Scarlett needs a vacation. Yes, she does. Miss Scarlett needs a 5 hour flight in First Class to "Somewhere". Where she can park her ass on a beach with some kind soul bringing her Grand Marnier in a frosty Snifter with a Perrier back. This kind soul will then gear her up in the latest US Diver gear & drop her down to 40 ft. Underwater where she can go into the lotus position & just BREATHE.

I've actually done that before. When I lived in St. Croix. Believe it or not, you can get stressed living in Paradise. I would put on all my gear, swim out about 20 yards & sink. And then I would just sit & breathe until I had about 500 air left. I could be there for an hour & 1/2. It was better than any therapy session.


And that reminds me of the most stressful dive I've ever done. St. Croix right before hurricane season; so mostly calm seas. I was doing a high noon dive with two teachers from one of the local private schools. Matt & Damian. They were both somewhat experienced; but Damian was a "scardy-cat" diver. He knew his stuff, but was just plain scared

We took out a hard-bottom Zodiac to the site which was maybe 50 yards off shore. We tied onto a buoy. While we're tying up, he puts his un-gloved hands out to catch the buoy. Barnacles. He cuts his hands. He wants to be first in the water. He starts gearing up & falls into the water before he gets his tank on. Next thing; he's on the surface screaming, "Shark! Shark!". I dropped into the water with just snorkel gear & put my face in. There's a 1 foot remora swimming around. Remora look just like shark as far as shape. They are algae eaters. They suck onto shark & eat stuff off of them. They are very small compared to a shark.

We haul his ass back onto the boat & get him geared up. Eventually, we all drop into the water.

I feel like I should state the obvious at this point. As with any sport; you check your gear. SCUBA is an incredibly safe sport as long as you CHECK YOUR GEAR.

We're in the water for about 20 minutes (60 ft. down) when Damian's regulator just floats away. He's still got the mouthpiece in his mouth. He didn't check the tie before he put his gear on. Now, we're in a bit of current at this point & he just freaks. Doesn't occur to him to just put his spare (octopus) in his mouth. He just starts thrashing around.

Matt grabbed his feet to keep him from kicking up & I stuck his octopus in his mouth. I looked at his gauge & he had just less than 700 air left. Matt & I had 1,500 plus. At this point, we're about 100 yards from shore & about 50 yards from the boat in current. Damian doesn't have the air to swim underwater to either.

Matt & I had to take turns surfacing to swim him to the boat. It was hands-down the most stressful cluster-fuck dive I've ever done.

And his name was DAMIAN.


So there. I told a St. Croix story. Which I hardly ever do.


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