Tuesday, January 27, 2009

I love a man in uniform

For whatever reason there are just a ton of commercials for Emelody on TV right now. Oh, how I hate them. I hate when they say “my friend told me about the caliber of guys she was meeting on there.” Because then I think about the caliber of guys I’M meeting on there, and either this town is full of only crap single guys or I’m just not worthy of high caliber men.

Funny thing is that neither of these thoughts brings me comfort.

I’m not moving to another town. And I’m about as good as I’m gonna get. (not really, but as far as THEY know I am. They don’t know that I’m currently the size of a panzer tank or that I’ve not successfully finished doing my dishes this year or that when left to my own devices I’m pretty much totally unable to resist eating 3-4 bowls of Cap’n Crunch Even after the crunchy crunch bits have poked the crap out of my poor mouth. I’m pretty darn sure that there’s no way they can no that. Probably.)

I read this article on the Emelody site about “What not to say on your profile and it boiled down to 1) be able to spell stuff, 2) don’t tell him about the Cap’n Crunch thing, 3) Love everything, 4) pretend you are alone and aimless and 5) don’t be THAT GUY. None of these help me.

I read another article that was the 5 biggest turn-offs for dudes, and THEY were 1) flakiness, 2) poor communication, 3) Not Playing Fair, 4) Trying to Change Him and 5) Ultimatums. In other words,

But here’s the deal: none of these articles help me, because what I’m not getting is matches. MAAAATCHEEES. I need the magic love-making interweb monkeys at Emelody to bring me guys that I can try not to turn off or who can read my profile and be horrified or WHAT-THE-HELL-EVER. See, Emelody asks all these questions and they use that to pick your matches and when they finish making your profile-thing they give you this report that’s supposed to describe you and my report was (this still makes me vomit in my mouth a little) TOTALLY DEAD ON.

And I get no matches. The me that they have figured out is unmatchable.


(I hear a box of Cap’n Crunch, with fabulous berries of crunch mixed in, calling my name. Because the Cap’n and me? Oh, that’s a match baby.)

Friday, January 23, 2009

Silly Girl Ranged Attack with +4 Charisma Modifier

A couple of weeks ago I broke one of my cardinal rules of shoe buying and purchased some silly girl shoes. They have all the components of silly girl shoes: They’re oh so pretty, they have a stupidly high heel and no method of attaching themselves firmly to my feet. All looks and no sense = silly girl shoes.

Normally I shun the silly girl shoes because while they’re not comfortable, they are super-expensive. But these were on SALE. REALLY EXCELLENT AND CHEAP SALE. And also? They’re COMFORTABLE. ACTUAL AND FOR TRUE COMFORTABLE TO WEAR. And because of these loopholes I bought these silly, silly girl shoes, big heel and all.

And then today they tried to kill me.

This is the third, only slightly less-significant reason for not buying silly girl shoes: they will, by their very nature, try to break your ankle or, even better, your neck. They do this by being ever so very tall and tippy. Much taller and tippier than things that one straps to their feet should ever be. And these are even tippierer because they don’t strap to the feet at all. They just sit under the feet, not holding on to anything and, in fact, constantly threatening to abandon the feet entirely if they disagree with the feet’s planned route. I’ve had these particular silly girl shoes since right after Christmas and I wore them to a few things, including a couple of days of work, without incident.

But then TODAY? Oh, today it was ON!

Walking down the hallway on my tall, tippy, silly girl shoes I went around a corner and spontaneously decided to try walking on the SIDE of the shoes. And of my feet. Which, of course, required me to bend my ankle at a 90° angle. To the left. Which is a bend my ankles don’t really do. Oh, and also it made a super-dainty “crack-pop!” noise, which I’m sure is a fine noise for ankles to make. They’re very “crack-poppy” joints.

Long-story-short I’m not hobbled and will live to walk again, and I didn’t even throw away the silly girl shoes. But this is just one of the silly girl things I really just don’t do, don’t get, don’t fathom.

Like who are these women who change their purse to match their shoes and outfits? Who DOES this? It’s all I can do to make sure that I’ve got everything I need in the one purse I carry, and I can’t imagine moving things from purse to purse every day. This would make me very, very crazy. (not to mention my shoes rarely match my outfits anyway. The phrase “close enough” is a dear, dear friend of mine when it comes to dressing. Especially the putting on of shoes.)

And also I am utterly baffled by the invention of the clutch purse. This strapless purse is, to me, simply the most efficient way for someone to lose all things important to them in one forgetful moment. And the same people who said “you know what would be awesome? A little, put-downable purse with no strap!” are the same geniuses who said “women don’t need pockets. That’s why we invented purses…”

Also I don’t wear make-up. I gave it up for two reasons: First, I hate the feel of the stuff on my face. No matter what I put where, that’s where I’ll suddenly develop an un-scratchable itch. Second, every minute that I spend putting on make-up in the morning is time I could be sleeping. And sleep vs. make-up? NO CONTEST. (Keeping in mind that for me sleep vs. just about anything is no contest. Sleep vs. double-fudge brownie served on a bed of money stacked on the naked body of Damien Lewis is still NO CONTEST.)

All this to say I guess I’m not much of a girl in the grand scheme of things. But as it turns out I’m a pretty dang good nerd! (As I write this a hobgoblin has fallen under the fierce sting of my longbow!)

Next: all the reasons that my awesome nerd prowess should find me an awesome nerd to love…

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

You know what? I think maybe we really can!

I don't care who wrote the words. All I know is that today's inaugural speech was the first time in my life that a politician inspired me. Here are the lines that I loved best from today's start of a new day:

each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions - who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them - that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply.

do our business in the light of day

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals.

know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness.

To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society’s ills on the West - know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy.

a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task. This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

...proud again to be a citizen - thanks, chief.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Super-uncomfortable coffee date in 3, 2, 1....

Mr. Carl wants to have coco.

And in all honesty, I don’t want to. Not that I have anything against coco, mind you! I’m a big coco enthusiast! Been drinkin’ it my whole life! Yay for coco! But I have zero interest in meeting Mr. Carl. I mean think about how awkward it is to try to write him a decent email… Now extrapolate that into 45 min. of time sitting across a table, trying to make the art of blowing on my coco seem meaningful and interesting. And secretly hoping that some hunk of vintage space garbage is whizzing through the atmosphere headed straight for the coffee shop to put me mercifully out of my misery.

Good times.

BLEAH. I was really hoping we’d be able to string along these uncomfortable emails for several more weeks before I had to face this. (and that during that time Fernando would become disillusioned with the floozy who currently has his attentions and would go back to his foolishly closed matches and see my snazzy new photo and realize that I am EXACTLY what his fiery latin heart has been searching for all along. Or that I’ll win the lottery and find some pretty trophy boyfriend.)

(note to self: buy lottery ticket.)

I’m tempted to ask for opinions from you, my trusty readership, but since I fell off the blogging wagon for pretty much the entire month of December I think my actual readership right now consists of 3 web-crawling robots, a quadriplegic in British Columbia who’s computer is stuck here and won’t respond to his frantic eye jiggling trying to get back to google and The Queen. And I think if I don’t go meet Mr. Carl she’ll stop reading, and then it will just be me and jiggly eye guy.

So instead of asking if I should meet Mr. Carl, maybe I could ask “any suggestions for making this a less hellish experience?” Or maybe “anyone out there want to wear my handy-dandy Femtastic full-face mask and go in my place?” (Note: Handy-Dandy Femtastic full-face mask will be available for purchase in time for Christmas of 2009. If ever…)

Wednesday, January 14, 2009


I’ve got a new strategy. I’m going to learn the ways of the lonely, lonely nerd, and then I’m going to travel to where they congregate (someplace like a gaming store or… well pretty much a gaming store) and I’m going to conquer them and become their queen.

Here’s the deal: all my dude friends from childhood, who are very cool now, and who have wives, HOT wives, and kids and actual lives and everything? Well, they all started out as hard-core, 20-sided dice rolling, Car-Wars playing, Star Trek-quoting nerds. And thus began my unavoidable love of the nerd. And even though they’ve left many of their nerd ways behind, they’re still total nerds at heart.

These soft, nerdy inner-core has shown itself recently when they decided to do an email version of D&D. Yes, THAT D&D. Dungeons, and also while they’re at it, Dragons. And in the ULTIMATE nerd compliment, they’ve asked me to adventure with them! And while many a cool and/or popular girl would be unable to prevent themselves from laughing out-loud, I find it to be a great honor and I ALSO am totally jazzed about doing it!

I see it this way: it incorporates many of my favorite things (writing, games, an excuse to wear a cloak and possibly carry a sword, legitimate use of the word “forsooth”) and will mostly be done in the secret inner-sanctum of my home! Oh sure, you guys know about it. But you’ll tell no one. I know you’ll keep my secret. (heck, if you’re gonna tell any of my secrets I’d start with the one about the sex tape!)

Lest you think I’ll wake up tomorrow, put on my skinny jeans (god do I love these jeans – I’ll tell you about them some other time) and fancy shoes and come to my senses I will tell you that I’ve already committed to the quest: I bought a manual. I went into a game store, which was rich with nerdy atmosphere, and asked for a D&D Players Handbook, and was informed that there are many editions (I asked for the shiniest one) and gave him many duccets and left, my head held high! (hidden under the VERY LARGE brim of a floppy hat, of course, but still mostly high…)

I know what you’re thinking: “Oh yeah, when I think of D&D players I think “total chick magnet”. You’re TOTALLY gonna attract someone this way!”

That’s just what I was thinkin’ too.

So I guess now I create my characters (I’m waffling between half-elf narcoleptic hooker or dragonborn accountant with a fear of wool and words that end in “-ogy”) and then we begin our exciting questy quest of adventure and fun! (PS: I’m so going to die a virgin. Even though I’ve had sex.)

Monday, January 12, 2009

Career Planning on a Monday is a BAD idea...

So I think I know what I want to be when I grow up. That would be my “good news.” The “bad news” is that it’s a super-not-easy goal and something I’d have to try to do while having my day job and there’s no guarantee of success and even if I DO succeed at being this thing that I want to be I might still have to keep my day job and did I mention that the thing I want to do is NOT my current day job? Yeah. Well.

I’d really enjoy to be a writer. A professional, published, “hey, would you like my card? My card that says “Writer” in the title?”-type writer. The reasons why I think I want to do this for a living is that it would be something I could do from the comfort of my own home (or heck, if I could finally get a laptop I could do it from my own bed! Or could you imagine writing a novel entirely from your happy little toilet? Awesome…), it would let me use my imagination (currently only utilized in this job when I have to send emails shaming people for their deplorable fridge etiquette) and its something I truly enjoy doing.

So if I’m gonna be this I gotta get going. Rumor has it that writing a book could take a little while. A few days, possibly some weeks, heck maybe even a month or three! (or, you know, the rest of my life…) I’d just LOVE to get started on this, my “change my whole life and give me an actual career and a reason to get up each morning and be the key to my entire happiness” novel (tentatively called “No Pressure, baby!”) but first I have to do the dishes. And clean the kitchen, and the living room, and there are still some Christmas decorations I haven’t figured out how to put away yet, and also the stack of old bills in the office that fill and entire 10-gallon plastic butterfly bin (at least until I file them, which I’m gonna do any day now) and I just started this very cool jigsaw puzzle of spices…

So here’s the plan. (shut up, I do too have a plan. Yes I do, and shut up.) I’m going to take January, and probably 1-2 weeks in February, and get my danged life in order. I’m going to CLEAN that kitchen, and PUT AWAY those Christmas decorations, and FILE those… SHRED those old bills and just generally get on top of the big pile of unmanaged crap that is currently my life! Once that’s done I’ll sit down and start putting word to paper. I make no promises to having a full plot at that point, as right now I have 3 cool ideas, a phrase and a title. How does this grab you: “Mr. Pennywhistle Kills you and your Pope: a love story/cook book”

No fair stealing it for your own “change your whole life and give you an actual career and a reason to get up each morning and be the key to your entire happiness” book.

For those of you who know that I am a dedicated reader of such blogs as Dooce.com and Faster Than Kudzu, and who think that I’m totally copying them and expecting my life to be as killer as theirs are just because I write a book I have one word: TOTALLY. (and I DO SO have a PLAN – SHUUUUUUUT UUUUUUUUUP!!!!!!)

(and I totally meant to write to Mr. Carl this weekend, but I partied at my Dad’s b-day bash until 4:30am on Saturday and then there was the ever-important ‘sleeping in’ on Sunday, followed by some hardcore sitting on the couch thinking that I should really get up and clean something. So who had the time to write?)

Friday, January 09, 2009

Find me a Dude just like the Dude that married dear old Mom!

Today is my Dad’s birthday. He’s something like 68 years old I think? He’s at that point where he’s older than “middle aged” (unless he has plans to live to be 140 which he has not shared with me) but not yet up to “old”. My grandmother who lived to be 96? SHE was old. My grandfather who hit 100 before mortal-coil-shuffling? HE was OLD! But my Dad isn’t there yet. Plus he’s also super-awesome, and that sheds years so…

Anyway, you know how I’m super-single? The singlest person ever? Queen of the singles? Well, I’m also a daddy’s girl which I know comes as a HUGE surprise. (I’m also a mommy’s girl. It’s the problem one has when their parents are equally amazing. But I digress. And you say “Durrrr!!!!”…) So when I meet dudes one of the eventual parts of the process is when I compare them to the best dudes I know, one of which is my Dad. Most dudes fall REALLY SHORT of the mark. There are many things that I appreciate in my Dad and would want to see in any potential partners, and here are the top 10:

1. He’s always happy to see or hear from me. Always. Every. Single. Time. I could talk to Dad on the phone for 20 minutes, hang up and call him right back with something forgotten and he’s just as happy to hear my voice the second time.
2. My Dad could no sooner be “shy” than he could be a female, republican or reptilian.
3. The guy totally understands how most things work. And if he doesn’t get it now let him mess with it for a while – he’ll get it eventually
4. He whistles.
5. Next to my father your pet dog is about as loyal as your pet fish.
6. My dad doesn’t have pet fish. (I’m pretty sure fish are the pet equivalent of performance art.)
7. he likes musicals while simultaneously being not gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay.
8. he’s not gay. (seriously, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being gay, but I’ll confess I find that a turn-off in men. It’s something I’m working on.)
9. He has no problem with my being a pushy, kick-ass, aggressive chick. In fact, I’m pretty sure he takes credit for all of that.
10. He loves me. (coincidentally, I love him right back)


Thursday, January 08, 2009

A good investment

So my friendly, polite, sensitive and maybe entirely too nice online boyfriend was not mad at me. In fact the whole point of his latest message to me was “hey, hadn’t heard in a while and wanted to see how your holidays went!” Also there was the subtext of “I’m oh so very nice and would never think to nag someone to answer the LAST damned message that I sent so quickly last time, thereby clearly indicating my interest in getting to know you, you selfish, insensitive BEEEE-OTCH!!!” (obviously.) And so, faced with not one but two nice little messages from the only guy who didn’t reject me 6 seconds after we were matched I did the only reasonable thing! I replied to him right away, and he replied to me, and now we’re madly in love and hoping for a June wedding. The end.

(are all the crazy people who clearly don’t understand my level of “broken” gone?)

No. No, of course not. I did what you already KNOW I did. I wrote him nothing. I didn’t even stop to consider writing him back at all. I closed the browser window and PROBABLY went out to the living room to watch a Bones rerun or something. Priorities. It’s all about priorities.

I am going to reply. As long as he’s still there, and still sending (instantaneous and dripping with inappropriate hope) messages I’ll reply. Eventually. But really it feels like a chore. Like my “to do” list says “dishes, find living room floor, write back to Mr. Carl, de-lint bellybutton, solve economic crisis…” Bleah.

I did update my profile picture, because I think that’s what has been repulsing the few matches that have instantly closed in the last few months. (Oh Fernando, where are you right now? Are you in the throws of fabulous grabby-touchies? Does she love you like I would have? (by which of course I mean with extra toys and such…) Do you ever think of me?... Oh Fernando!) I have convinced myself that I need a more “come hither” picture. And I actually have one! I found a picture an uncle took of me during the trip down to the fiery armpit of California last August! Now the actual look on my face is “take the picture already, and if you even THINK about dropping my beloved camera in the pool I’ll remove each of your internal organs one by one through your left ear.” But it could also be “come hither.” If you don’t know me very well. And also it’s sunny and I’m kind of smiling and neither of these things are true of most pictures I have of me!

I realized that I only have a few weeks left of this membership. I know it’s been SUPER worth the money spent, what with all the awesome contacts I made and all the exciting, stimulating matches and everything. But I think I’ve already decided that I’ll probably re-up, at least for a little longer. Right? Your thoughts?

(OK, so now I’m gonna go reply to Mr. Carl. Or possibly finish off a bag of Pirate’s Booty. It’s a toss-up really.)

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

Unlikely In Love: The Flashback episode.

So according to The Bloggess (who should know, because HELLO? She has the word “Blog” right in her NAME?) all bloggers are apparently supposed to do a recap of the past year on their blog. But she didn’t know until just now, and I didn’t know until I read it in her blog, and so here I am. Late again.

But the good news is that it gives me ONE MORE THING to blog about, which is awesome!

Also I was totally going to write a post about new years resolutions, as I have some (sort of. I guess more accurately I have some thoughts about the new year which could be called “resolutions” if it weren’t for the fact that I’m primarily “against” new years resolutions.) but that post has become stuck in my brain and won’t come out.


MY POINT is that I have bloggy things to craft and share with you guys (who, by the way, are definitely pissed at me for the lack of blogging, because my little stats report thingie was ALL KINDS of red numbers, which loosely translates as “they’re bailing on you! Fleeing the crappy, non-writing ship like rats who don’t read and who see cheese on that floating bit of wood!” And you have every reason and right to be pissed, and I am definitely groveling and e-pologizing for being SO LAME here in blogland. But I digress…) but some of them are being uncooperative. So for right now I’m going to fall back on classic television solutions to such lack of writing inspiration and share with you guys my “flashback show.” Instead of finding a cohesive plot which explains why I would be thinking about the previous year like this, I’ll just hypothesize about what possibly drew the throngs of readers to that particular post. (hopefully one of them will feature “butt” quite a lot!)

Do me a favor and as you go from old episode to old episode do that wavy-lines thing and make that “doodle-ee-doodle-ee-doodle” noise, ‘kay?

Unlikely In Love’s top 10 most looked at posts:
1. “Femtastic Gets New Glasses” – proof of just how popular antimetropia has become since I broke the news. I’m SO a trend setter!
2. “So Few Words, So Many Syllables” – features such super-handy phrases as “Stinkbutt”, “body parts identification” and “Princess in da house, yo!”
3. “Mouths and Irony and Aluminum Foilishness” – ummmmm, “turkey kielbasa, all spicy and good”?
4. “Femtastic Hates Getting Her New Glasses” – Antimetropia, people – it’s huge!
5. “And Away We Go!...” – there are many things that could be the draw for this, but if I’m being actually honest I’d say it’s probably this sentence: “Ew, I think you have e-cooties!!”
6. “Big Finish!” – AN-TI-MET-RO-PEE-AH, people!! The glasses saga is everything!
7. “This is Me, Testing a Blue Pen” – In this post I coined the phrase “penporium”. I suspect that most of the folks who have visited and re-visited this post are those desperate to take my clever word creation and make millions with it. It’s just that genius.
8. “All the good ones ARE married or gay.” – 50% married readers, 50% gay readers = 100% posty love.
9. “Shuffle, Ball, Step, Whizzz” – Is there anything better than pee humor? No. There is not.
10. “100 Things About Femtastic…” -- All of these hits are me. I keep forgetting what the heck I’ve already told you guys about me!

Monday, January 05, 2009

The one I forgot to title for like 3 days...

I think my imaginary online boyfriend-like-person might be mad at me.

You know how I didn’t write any blog posts for a really long time? And how it was because holidays are super-busy (but also super-awesome, which makes the super-busy part of it totally worth it, but still super-busy)? Well at the same time that I wasn’t writing to you guys I was also simultaneously not writing to Mr. Carl. At all.

Like he’s written me two lovely, albeit boring as watching fish evolve, emails and I’ve written him one response. (I do think, though, that I met the boring requirement. I seem to remember having fallen asleep while writing my reply at least once, so boring was my lame email reply.) It took me at least a week, and probably two, to write the first reply, and then when I finally did “send” it he replied back to me in something like a day. A DAY! Plus, in the reply he told me how he had to run because he was rushing off to the airport to catch a plane and I’m thinking “what in the hell are you doing writing me an email when you have a plane to catch? DID YOU NOT NOTICE THE BORING?!?!” Ugh. So even though I have many busy, busy holiday things I was doing on which I can blame my weeks of not replying to the second instantaneous response from Mr. Carl, it’s really because bleah, I don’t wanna.

But I will, because if I don’t you guys will be fed up with me and The Queen will take away my television!

So it was with that less-than-enthusiastic, but completely obligatory, wave of… something… that I faced eventually taking the 3-6 minutes it takes to craft boring and lame emails to reply to Mr. Carl. Except that TODAY I got an email in my personal email saying that I have a message from Mr. Carl waiting for me in my EMelody account. (which I can’t access from work, as they have blocked EMelody at work because they are apparently not paying me to find the man of my dreamy, dreamy dreams but whatever, I don’t love you either stupid job…) So I have to wait until I get home to see what he wrote.

But when I saw he wrote I had this response: “oh crap! My online non-boyfriend-person is probably mad at me and I’m gonna get in trouble!”

I’m gonna get in trouble. Even though he doesn’t have my last name or my contact info. And even though I’m secretly hoping that there’s some nice, boring single girl out there looking for some boring boy just like Mr. Carl to settle down and like a whole lot, who will relieve me from my obligation to keep sending and receiving boring emails from Mr. Carl. It’s like my EMelody pen pal just assigned me homework!

So I’ll check when I get home. He’s probably just sending the classic “hello? Anyone out there?” email, and I’ll feel like a doofus and have to hide the doofusness in my reply.

My boring, boring, SO BORING reply.