computer love

so eharmony is having a "sale" on memberships, and i'm giving it some serious thought. granted, i have SWORN off internet dating more than once. having done match a few times, chemistry, and having perused the craigslist personals once (just to see what i could get for free), i decided that i was done. through. finished with paying for the POSSIBILITY of love. in fact, in all the times i've signed up (probably five total, one month at a time) i've only actually gone out with people twice.

the first guy i went out with, let's call him london because that's not that far from the truth, took me to a gay bar on our first (and last) date. now, to his credit, he did tell me where we were meeting up, so i wasn't surprised, and in the midst of our five hour phone conversation, he made it sound perfectly reasonable as to why our date should take place there. something about him being comfortable enough with his sexuality and masculinity to take a woman there and not feel awkward. at the time, it sounded reasonable to me. but during the course of the night, he did other weird things that made me feel like the whole date, gay bar or not, was a bad idea. such as going to the furthest corner from the entrance so he could "watch me walk toward him and decipher whether or not i'd ever had good sex." then there was the fact that he argued with me and followed every point with "come on, college girl" in an attempt, i believe, to prove that simply because i went to college (and he did not) did not mean i was smart. then there was the part when, as we laid on one of the canopy beds in the bar, he told me he was going to kiss me and rock my world. ack. his kiss was a representation of his personality: aggressive, awkward, and a total sham. he walked me to my car, kissed me again (yeah....), and we never spoke again.

then there was the guy who, as soon as i saw him through the window of the bar, i knew i wanted to abort the mission. he was cuter in the photos. but it was too late. i was there. i don't remember a thing he said except that he wanted to continue the party elsewhere, and i was so not feelin' that. when he went outside for a smoke (double ack!), i considered bolting, but he was standing in front on the only exit, and he was staring at me through the window. considering i could only see his head from where i was sitting and smoke clouding around his head, it felt rather like the twilight zone. i flaked on him a time or two after that, and he stopped asking me out.

and these are the guys who actually made it into the "date approved" category!! let's not get on the other schmucks i had to email and ask questions to and answer questions from and subsequently block. then there are the ones who don't make it past the "let me look at your picture" stage and the ones who "wink" at you with no picture at all. seriously? no picture? you expect me to play russian roulette with your face? you expect me to be so charmed by your typo-filled, grammatically incorrect profile, that i will meet you sight unseen? so you're dumb and unattractive...jackpot.

so why would i even CONSIDER going through all that again?

did i mention they're having a sale? and shit always looks better on sale. furthermore, i work with three gay guys and zero straight ones, so it's not like romance is brewing at work. i have yet to meet anyone at the library, grocery store, sports bar or happy hour. so i HAVE to do something. the vag isn't get any younger or moister.

yes, i still have my hopes of marrying tim riggins. or, now that j.timberlake is supposedly single, i guess he can go back on my "dream board." however, IF for some reason those don't pan out, i need a back up. and it looks like the world wide web might be that back up.
ah, fuck. this is so lame. but maybe at 10 bucks a month, i won't feel so bad.

i can't believe i'm actually considering doing this again, L.A.!!!

bitchin' about bitches and their bitches

so...just now my coworkers were yapping about their dogs again and this damn doggie day that they keep talking about having at work. the conversation started when somebody asked the temp about her new dogs. she got all excited (i think they're boxers) and started talking about bringing them in. and then the girl she was talking to said she would bring her dog too, and since they were standing in my freakin' office gabbing about this shit, i said "well, you can bring them in on Thursday or Friday when i'm not here." then a third party said, "do you not like dogs?" i said "no, i don't." but i mean, come on. you asked me the question. i didn't just volunteer the information, so why y'all are all looking at me like i just told you i was born a man is beyond my comprehension. why is that you have to like dogs? wtf is that about? don't get me wrong. i'm not a dog-abuser, and i don't hate dogs. in fact, i've seen some dogs that are darn right cute (e.g. bo 'bama). but they are usually small and don't jump and on me and lick me and wag their balls and tails in my face and suffocate me with bad breath. if i didn't have to clean up a dog's poop, i might actually invest in a toy poodle or something. but no, i'm not a dog lover. no, i don't really want to date a guy who sleeps with his dog in his bed or lets his dog eat off his plate or kiss him in the mouth. is that such a sin? i volunteer, i give to non-profits, but a complete asshole who spends time with his dog would probably be viewed as a better person simply because he likes four-legged creatures.

anyway, so the third party, upon hearing that i don't like dogs, said, "i take back every nice thing i said about you." jokingly. but i'm sure that deep down, some part of her was truly offended. and then the two original fire starters determined that they "just wouldn't bring the dogs into my office." i tried to ease everyone's pain by saying that i don't hate them, i just don't want them licking me and jumping on me. by now, there are five people in the conversation, all of them with at least one dog. the temp decided she would bring her dogs in on Monday because it's her birthday. hello?!! you are a fucking temp! since when do you get to bring your damn dogs in here? you aren't even technically an employee. so how do you think you have override authority? and if one of your damn boxers bite me, it's on! people, this is an office. not a doggie day care or a kennel. IF i had wanted to come to work and be with pets, i would have chosen an occupation that catered to that. so why am i the bad girl here?

on a separate note, i've been back at work since Tuesday, and i've had a headache every single day. not a good way to start the age of 28. doesn't the number 8 symbolize new beginnings? is that right? i remember hearing the 7 represents the end and 8 the beginning. so let's begin...before i lose it.

i had a few meetings while i was on hiatus from work, and i'm hoping that one of them will lead to something. they have to. if not, i'm going to move and become a professional cyclist. like liz hatch. have you seen her legs? bangin'!

Cs and Ds and the "ick" in between

i need to talk about girlfriends and their boyfriends for a minute. hypothetically. let’s say your birthday is coming up, and you invited all your friends to…a winebar, that perhaps serves tapas. and let’s say you told your friends that they could bring their husbands and boyfriends. why not? just because you’re single doesn’t mean you can’t delight in the beauty of your friends’ relationships on your birthday. so you go to make the reservation, and you find out that your party of…say 12 cannot be accommodated at the restaurant. they can only take a reservation for 10 max. you, not wanting to deprive anyone of the joy of celebrating your birthday, call around to find a place that can take a party of 12. but maybe you live in a place where having a party that size is a sin, and it is therefore impossible. so…you call your two girlfriends, who wanted to bring their husband and boyfriend respectively, and apologizing profusely, tell them that you unfortunately cannot accommodate their other halves. so let’s say your married friend is perfectly fine with it, but maybe your friend with the boyfriend is not fine with it. perhaps she sends you an e-mail that says something like she’s sorry the restaurant won’t take more people, etc. etc., but she already asked her boy to come and he worked his schedule around her and she’d feel bad not hanging with him so she’s not going to come. maybe you’ve known this friend for 10 years. and maybe she’s been dating her boy for 2 months.

hypothetically, would you be upset/miffed/hurt and would you have a right to be? i’m going to say yes. you have a right to feel not cool with that. granted, she’s already made her decision and there’s nothing i…i mean, you…fuck it, i can do about it, and i don’t want to do anything about it. i want her to do what she wants to do, and if that’s who she feels compelled to be with, that’s who she should be with. however, i think what made me a little salty was the fact that
1) it’s my birthday
2) she’s known him for 2 months
3) dinner starts at 7, which technically would give her plenty time to go, hang out, and then be with her boy, right?
maybe not. maybe things have changed since I last had another half. whatever happened to “bros before hoes” and “chicks before dicks”? maybe the bros before hoes thing is still alive (though i know for a fact that’s not always true), but i’m pretty sure the chicks before dicks thing is dead (it probably never even caught on as i think i just made it up in my head). people say “my girls come first. my girls this…my girls that. fuck men, I got my girls, heeeeyyy!” but that’s bullshit. sorry, it is. a dick will supersede your BEST chick any day. i’ve witnessed it and fallen victim to it on many occasions. an army of chicks is infallible until an army of one lone dick charges up like a Trojan horse. then insurrection ensues, the army collapses, and the general rides off with the enemy. at that point, your girls who were there for you when you didn’t have no damn man, get the boot. don’t get me wrong, when i finally get one, i will probably go into hibernation and want to be all up under that musky, testosterone-filled beast. but would i miss a friend’s birthday for a man i see every week, more than once a week? will i flake on my friends simply because i’d feel worse ditching him (and my friend is more likely to forgive me)? i certainly hope not. i hope i’m not so drunk on his smell and so happy to have my own Trojan horsie to play with that i completely lose my mind.

but maybe i’m wrong now. maybe i’ve been out of the dating game so long that i’m not able or unwilling to see the situation from the perspective of an attached person. maybe i’m being selfish. or ridiculous. maybe it’s just a birthday and not that big of a deal. maybe. but it doesn’t feel right.

so how does it end? hypothetically, you send your friend a message saying that you respect her decision but that your feelings were somewhat hurt nevertheless. hypothetically, she hasn’t responded to you. but you say "screw it" 'cause it's your birthday, and you're going to have fun regardless.

i just had to get that off my chest, L.A.

8 days and a list

the following is a list of things i just bought at the store. it is, i feel, a symbol of my independence (i.e. singleness) and fiscal responsibility (i.e. poorness).

chocolate covered almonds
non-chocolate covered almonds
vanilla soy milk
parmesan artichoke dip
peche lambert (peach belgian beer, my new best friend)
carrots
a piece or rosemary chicken

the beer was the most expensive thing on the list, and though i should have left it at the store, the fact that i will be 28 in 8 days, gave me a good reason to put it in the basket. i plan to spend the week celebrating, in free ways, the first of which is having the entire week off from work. interestingly enough, i have no real plans for my time off. i'm going to watch people's court and judge judy; read; watch my netflix; eat my nuts and drink my beer (so i'll probably be bloated and rounded as all hell from the damn salt on these nuts mixed with the beer). maybe i'll go to a museum and walk it off...

you know, each year, as my birthday comes and goes, and i look toward the coming year, i think, "next year, i'll have a boyfriend on my birthday, and he'll take me out. or maybe we'll go on a road trip. yeah, a road trip! and it will so romantic....next year." i'm not playing that game this year. not because i feel like it's unnecessary and potentially doomed to fail, though both a true. i just don't feel compelled to fire up that fantasy. is it because i'm perfectly content with my life as it is? doubtful. there is certainly room for improvement (though i have become more aware of the beautiful things in my life). is it because i'm at last owning up to the the manlessness part of my manlessdogless label? or is it because all hope has been sucked the fuck out of me and now i no longer fight what is, i just float? perhaps. i mean, honestly, it would be weird to roll over and find anything other than maybe a little drool next to me.

it could be, however, that i'm so focused on trying to get a writing job that i can't spend energy on any other desires right now. as my two year anniversary at work approaches, i can't help but feel like i'm wasting precious time. two years spent doing a job that has absolutely nothing to do with what i want to do with my life. that's such a frustrating position to be in. but, i wonder, is it worse to know what you want to do and have it allude you or to have no idea at all what it is you are meant for?

do i have any expectations for 28? not really. i feel like i've always had "expectations" and they've all sort of been shot down like ducks out of the sky or at least they've been diverted down unforseen paths. so no. no expectations. i do desire happiness. happiness in whatever manner it chooses to present itself. and i don't mean happiness that i have to make, like lemonade out of lemons. i mean true blue happiness. i mean feeling like things that alluded in the past have finally arrived...and they are so damn good that they were well worth the wait.

don't forget to email manlessdogless@gmail.com, 'kay?

letters to the editor

no man? no dog? got a dog but no man? got a man who acts like a dog? write. i would love to feel like i'm not the only tragic case. so feel free to share, anonymously if you wish...or using your stage name...
but maybe you're a lucky one. maybe you have a man AND a dog and get licked by both on a regular basis. feel free to share that too, and allow me to live vicariously through you. i know there are a lot of bored workers out there, so you have no excuse.
you may send anything you wish to manlessdogless@gmail.com. word of caution: it will probably be posted.

ps. also accepting submissions from guys who are tired of seeing man and dog in the same sentence.

problem solved

my cuteness + my winning smile + 2 guys + acetone + super glue = a fixed car and a very happy me

so don't feel bad, houston adriana. all is well (and thanks for reading!).

i am back in business in L.A.

because i'd had nothing to write about

the universe felt it was necessary to give me something to writer about. so here's an update:
today, as i was pulling into the job that i decided i was completely over yesterday, i ran into a cement pillar. i got a nice, foot tall gray paint streak alllll down the passenger door. to top it off, i hit the pole so hard, that all the lights came on in my car like it was fucking christmas and they wouldn't go off. having been trained by my circumstances to be independent and self-reliant, i decided i needed to fix the door so that the lights would go off, and i wouldn't come downstairs to a dead battery at the end of an equally dead day. so i started fiddling with some...thing in the door and messed that up to the point where the door wouldn't even close anymore. so now...just so we're all on the same page: 1. hit pillar; 2. gray paint (so now i look like i have a two-tone door or like i did a terrible job at trying to paint flames); 3. lights on; 4. battery dying; 5. passenger door not closing. in the midst of my "i can fix it myself, damnit" moment, i somehow got black oil from the...thing...all over my fingers, fingers which accidentally touched my pants. so, 6. oil on pants.
so now, how in the hell am i supposed to take the car anywhere to AT LEAST get them to fix the light switch/fuse whatever, if the damn door won't even close?
and why don't i have a some xy chromosome-possessing individual whom i can call to take care of this? or at least complain to?
and why am i typing on my computer and eating a doughnut, while my car is downstairs with the door open and the battery draining?
because i'm over it.
i am glad i'm off all next week, L.A.