This one was the only date that made me feel dirty. It was a very strange feeling to be sitting across from a man that looks like a shorter version of my dad. I half expected him to tell me to sit up straight and to cover myself. Me not likey the feeling. I didn't flirt with this guy, I didn't bare any cleavage-he got NOTHING. Too freaking creepy. Seriously
My dad is actually much more entertaining than this guy. He's really quite amusing-at least I think he is because we have the exact same sense of humor. My dad lives out on Hawaii, has a sweet ass job, and a fatty fat house. This guy enjoys budget traveling and staying in hostels. My idea of budget traveling is staying in a 3 star hotel instead of a 4 star hotel. Girlfriend doesn't own a backpack and isn't planning on getting one any time soon. Let's not even discuss hostels, I stayed in one once, when I was in 4th grade. I got mono, not a happy memory.
I might have considered it for a split second if he had told me he owned a mansion in Bermuda, or a flat in London. Perhaps he could have turned out to be my sugar Daddy. . .
[I just threw up a little just thinking about it.]
Vladimir was not your typical dork. He did not wear glasses made in the 80’s, he did not have a comb over, nor did he wear pants that indicated he was preparing for the great flood. What made Vladimir a dork was his wicked annoying personality. He was kind of like an angry dork. When he first sat down in front of me I knew he was not the one for me, but figured that he’d at least be a break from the older creepy dorks. Yeah, not so much. Here’s my version of our conversation:
CS: I notice you have an accent. Where are you from?
Vladimir. Guess, everyone else has guessed right so far.
CS: [Playing dumb because the name and accent gave it away] Russia?
Vladimir: [Enraged by my correct response] How does everyone know that?!
CS: Um. . .I don’t know. I just guessed. [Quickly switching to a topic I thought was safer] What do you do?
Vladimir: Guess. Everyone has been right on that one too.
CS: [F*ck, I thought to myself] Well, it seems like most of the guys I’ve met so far are either in IT or they work for the government. Let’s say, IT?
Vladimir: What are you saying? That only guys that work in IT come to these things because we’re losers??
CS: Um. . .no-it’s just that it seems like people here are either in IT or the government. I just took a guess and said IT.
Vladimir: So you I can’t work for the government because I’m Russian??
CS: No! [Quickly thinking of how to change the subject] I’m sure that many of the women here are from the same field. Maybe teachers?
Vladimir: I did meet a few teachers. What do you do?
CS: I’m a Training Consultant.
Vladimir: So you’re a teacher, too?
Thankfully, this concluded our very long 4 minutes.
Brown Poly Pants is the one date that I was dreading the most. Let me describe Mr. Brown Poly Pants:
The Outfit: Clearly, he was wearing brown polyester pants. This was very classily matched with a thin, short-sleeved, button down "dress" shirt. Underneath, he had on a navy blue t-shirt. Lord only knows why. As for the shoes, I couldn't bring myself to look at them.
Physical Appearance: Brown Poly Pants (now known as BPP because it's getting annoying typing out his God given name) was about 5'3"-that's a good 5 inches shorter than I am (even more if you factor in the heels I was wearing). He was bald. His bald head did very little to detract from his pot-belly. If I didn't know any better, I would have guessed that he was about 7 months pregnant.
Bonus: To top it all off, he had a lisp.
He very much reminded me of Hairy McBacksweat*, who I dated many years ago (when I was fat and going through hard times). He reminded me of a much older version of Hairy McBacksweat. Hairy McB used to do this fake lisp which was pretty amusing from time to time. When BPP sat across from me and started talking to me, I almost laughed out loud.
The chemistry was undeniable!! I had to contain myself to not immediately jump out of my terribly uncomfortable chair and mount him. I took a sip of my truly horrible cocktail to regain composure. Then we chatted about stuff. I have no recollection of what we talked about. I do remember, however, that I was going to be a total bitch when he sat down. Then I thought, "No! You cannot do that to your readers. They will be so disappointed in you. You must pretend to like him." And so I did. Mama flirted like a champ. I leaned forward so he could look down my dress, I maintained eye contact. I laughed when he made a joke-at least I think it was a joke.
Thankfully, the 4 minutes went by quickly. I did not put an "x" in the yes box next to his name.
Bye-bye, BPP, it was nice to meet you!! I'm sure I'll be seeing your face in a mug shot when you get arrested for soliciting sex from an undercover police officer.
*We shall leave the story of Hairy McBacksweat for a rainy day.
As you all know Lola, Muffy, and I did some speed dating yesterday. It was our first time, we didn't know what to expect, nor did we have any idea how it would turn out. I shall break this out in a riveting 5 part expose:
The Pre-Dating Scene
Bachelor #1: Brown Poly Pants
Bachelor #2: Russian IT Dork
Bachelor #3: My Dad
Bachelor #4: The Trekkie
The rest of this posting contains the description of what happened before the dating started. Please to enjoy:
I had about 15 minutes to get ready after work before meeting up with Lola and Muffy. I cautiously checked myself out in the mirror. Cute dress? Check! Good hair? Check! Legs look good in the shoes? Check! Make-up? Check! Simone looking wicked red and angry? Check! Check!
Muffy was kind and gracious enough to volunteer to serve as driver to Greenbelt Metro Station. Sadly, it fell to me to navigate. Typically, I'm pretty good with directions. Last night, not so much. We ended up going into the city via New York Ave.-lovely and scenic route. No, really. Miraculously we ended up where we were supposed to (no thanks to me), found a good spot, and headed over to the bar.
When we walked in, my first impression was, "Where the hell is everyone?" There were all of 8 people in the bar, 2 of them worked there. We sauntered over to the bar to order us up some mojitos. Mine came complete with wilted mint! Mmm, mmm, good!! As we sat there, I noticed that there were several creepy looking men walking around, all by their lonesome. It occurred to me that they were there for the event. This horrified me. It was not what I signed up for!!
Sure, I had a feeling that we'd be hanging out with some dorks, but never in a million years did I think that we'd be hanging out with semi-retired middle aged dorks! We're too young and cute for that. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about older men-just as long as they are George Clooney or his long lost, successful twin brother. The pot bellied, balding, short man just doesn't do it for me.
It was horrifying enough sitting there knowing that I would soon be sitting across from these men. You can imagine how delighted I was when I saw a girl walk in wearing the exact same fucking dress that I was wearing. That's right boys and girls: the same dress. What are the odds?? Of course, yours truly was rocking the dress, on her it looked more like a black potato sack. Thankfully, she turned around and left after about 5 minutes. I can only imagine what it would have been like having to hear, "Oh! There's another girl here wearing the exact same thing!" That would have been wonderful.
We sat there for about 30 minutes watching more people drift in. Suddenly, the bar was packed. There was a semi-cute boy here and there. Then, they started calling for us to take our places at the tables. I made my way to the bar, ordered the world's most disgustingly foul cocktail (I knew it was going to be bad when the bartender kept smelling the juice to make sure it hadn't gone bad), and bravely made my way to an empty seat. We had 28 dates, each lasting 4 minutes. I know you don't want to hear anything about the average ones are the good ones, so I will present you with the best of the worst.
I did my flipping best to flirt my ass off with the worst ones. I did it all for you, just so I would be able to entertain you with my tragic encounters. I hope you're happy.
You: So?? How’d it go last night?
Me: I’m so freaking tired right now. I just want to throw back some ibuprofen and crawl back into bed.
You: Come on!! I want some details!
Me: Well, I’m really tired, I have the cocktail flu, and I don’t want to be here right now. Also, Simone is getting bigger by the second and I’m afraid she’s going to start demanding an allowance. I’m not too pleased with her right now.
You: You know that’s not what I meant!! Tell me about last night!
Me: I had one of the most disgusting cocktails on earth. All I remember was that there was ginger in it, it had a kick ass name and a terrible spicy flavor. Awful. God awful. Never ever order the Maldito Amor at Chi-cha Lounge. Swear to me that you won’t do it. Promise me right now!
You: I SWEAR! Now freaking tell me about the speed dating.
Me: Would you like to hear about Brown Poly, the Trekkie, Russian IT Dork or my Dad?
You? WHAT WHAT WHAT?? Your dad was there?? That’s f’ed up! Did you get matched up with your dad?? I think you could actually sue. Right? Incest is illegal. What the hell kind of place did you go to?
Me: It wasn’t actually my dad, it just looked like him. It was Creepy, with a capital C.
You: God, that doesn’t sound so good.
Me: What are you talking about? How could you not want to go out with those upstanding bachelors? They were so. . .um. . .er. . .um. . .interesting.
You: I want to know about all of them!!
Me: You’ll just have to wait and read the next posting. . .
You: You're a bitch, Catherinette.
Me: I know, but you love me!
The next time that I decide to go out on a school night, enjoy 1 too many cocktails, and get home at 1:00 in the morning, can one of you please remind me that it’s a bad idea? Me no likey the cocktail flu in combination with an 8:30 meeting. Why I thought it was a good idea to get all boozy Suzy last night is beyond me.
Ugh, someone, anyone, please put me out of my misery.
In the 2007 edition of Baltimore Magazine's Best of Baltimore issue, Nasu Blanca was rated as having the best cocktails in the area. Being a connoisseur of cocktails, I arranged an evening of drinks with Lola, Muffy, and Lush. The restaurant is in a cute little house in Federal Hill on Fort Ave., the bar is tiny. Sadly, the prices of the cocktails are not as small as the cocktail menu. We were there for serious business: to try Baltimore's best cocktails. We ordered the Shiso Fine and the Gin & Juice Martini.
Lola, Muffy, Michael Kors, and I are embarking on an exciting adventure tomorrow evening: 4 minute dating. We're off to Washington, D.C. to attempt to meet hot, eligible bachelors. Having never done speed dating before, I'm not sure what to expect. I'm guessing that one of two things will happen:
Today the "Behold" series begins. This will be a riveting and enthralling series introducing you to things that will immediately improve your life and sense of meaning.
Yesterday I wrote about how my little nephew called me and told me he wanted me to have babies. Shortly after that conversation, I was on the phone with my mom. She was highly amused by the whole thing. Then the call took a strange turn. Below is a transcript:
Mom: So, I know this doctor that goes to Al-Anon to meet people.
CS: Al-Anon? The support group for friends and families of alcoholics?
Mom: There are a lot of really nice people that go there.
CS: That seems really desperate.
Mom: Well, her father is a gambler, and she's said she's met a lot of interesting people.
CS: Um, I don't know how to tell you this, but no one I know is a drinker.
Mom: That's not the point. The point is, that you go out there and you start meeting people. You're not going to be young forever, you know.
CS: Thanks for the vote of confidence, mom. No, really.
Mom: Clearly what you've been doing isn't working for you. Why don't you try something new?
CS: Maybe I could go hang out at the bus station and see who I run into there. How about that?
Mom: This is serious!
CS: Right. Yeah. Whatever. I'll get right on it.
I was telling my sister about the conversation last night, and she was on the floor laughing. We decided that I had been too narrow minded in my search for men. From here on out, I will open up my horizons and begin including the following as potential candidates for a long term, loving, healthy relationships:
Prison inmates
Addicts
Sexual Predators
Survivors of Extreme Abuse
Yes, it's a good plan. I like it.
So my 2 and 1/2 year old nephew called me today to tell me he wants me to have kids. He wants some cousins. Yeah, that's just what I need. My mother and sister already harass me all the time. It's going to be superb to have yet another person on my case.
Great.
Back in the day, which according to Dane Cook was a Thursday, when I still managed new hire classes (and then dated them the second they were through with training), I used to have interns. These weren't little high school or college interns, they were full on employees. Our internship program consisted of "borrowing" someone from the business to help us with the grunt work. You know: making my lunch, taking my stuff to the dry cleaners, washing the car, etc.
Anyway, I was fortunate enough to have a hot little intern at one point. Sure he was like 12 years old, OK he was 22, but he was young. Very young. This morning I ran into him downstairs in the cafeteria. Boyfriend just got back from the beach and was looking mighty fine with his tan. Hot. God I miss the days of dating young employees.
No more interns for me. None. Meanwhile, Foxy Luv has a new intern every 30 seconds. Sadly, they're always chicks. Boo!! She's had only one fine (and I mean fine) intern. He was hot like fire. And guess what else: he totally wanted me. Sure, he hadn't realized it yet and was convinced that he loved his stupid girlfriend, but I knew it when he decorated my cubicle with 300 + post it notes. That's love, kids.
Last night I went out to dinner at Oceanaire with Un-boyfriend. I did something that was extremely stupid last night-I'm talking criminal offense stupid. I'm still so angry at myself for letting this whole thing happen. I even warned myself that it was going to happen, yet I did it anyway. Stupid, stupid, stupid!!
We got to dinner way early, sat at the bar and had some drinks (mmm. . .cucumber margarita). He demanded that I explain why I have been so short with him lately, I blew him off and ogled a hot waiter. We were finally seated, ordered, had another drink (mmm. . .wild berry mojito), ate, and left. He tried to get me to sympathize with him about how Poor Soul was driving him crazy. Here's a thought: stop leading her on. No sympathy for him. He's old enough to know better.
This is where the stupid part comes in. He needed a ride home. I threw my food in the trunk because he was threatening to take my left over calamari, and drove him home. He kept asking me if I thought that he could get out of seeing Poor Soul (she's leaving for a trip today), and I told him to grow some balls and break-up with her. I dropped him off, and went home.
Here's where the stupid comes in: I left the most delicious calamari and an entire 5 oz fucking crab cake in the trunk of my car. UGH!! Such deliciousness wasted!! I woke up at 1:00 in the morning and that's when I realized my mistake. I had half a mind to jump out of bed, and run outside to grab the food. Sure it might have gone bad in the sweltering heat, but it was so damn good! The neighbors would have been delighted to see a crazed woman in a white nightgown running around outside at such a late hour. I made the decision to just curse myself, rollover, and go back to sleep.
Damn it. I'm pissed.
