Even Cupid must have a sense of humor

***Disclaimer: This date occurred several months ago, but I waited the courtesy few months after the guy got the hint (that I wasn't interested) to share this little gem. Even I have a heart.***

I'll keep the back story short and sweet. This guy and I meet online. He lives in Kingstowne, he's 36, and he's a Marine. He's cute, witty, and I have a good feeling about this one (clearly short lived). We keep communication to emailing, gchatting, and the phone for about 2 weeks prior to the first date.

We meet at Coastal Flats, which is near me. I get my way and he drives to me, and I'm glad he does. I would have been pretty fucking bitter if I drove to Kingstowne for what is about to transpire. Just saying. I am waiting outside, and he walks up to me. Ok....I embrace online photos don't always look 100% like the person.....but come on!!!!!

In his pictures, he looked like a tall Tom Cruise (old school, hot Tom...not batshit crazy, jumping on couches Tom). Naturally, I'm thinking he'll be hot in person....but no. He approaches me, and looks as if he had lost 50 lbs. He looks ridiculously skinny....like sickly skinny....like concentration camp skinny.....like coked out Lindsay Lohan skinny....like one of the Olsen twins skinny....like if it had ever come to us getting naked and comparing how many of our ribs were showing, he'd be the clear winner skinny. Awkward.

To top this off, he's wearing exceptionally dorky glasses. Ok look, I have glasses too. I wear them to read. I'm not judging the need for glasses. I think, however, if you aren't wearing glasses in ANY of your pictures online, perhaps it's a bad idea to wear them on a first date.

Anywho, after the hug hello, we go inside to get a table. I was smart and called ahead because I was starving. I give the hostess my name and they tell us to step to the side and wait a few minutes while they get our table ready. While we're waiting, he's trying to make jokes about waiting for things. I can tell he's really nervous. He starts telling this random, yet disturbing, story about when he was little and how he and his family were waiting in line for an amusement park ride or something....how the outside is a line but when you get inside, it's a bigger line to get to the actual ride....something to that effect. In order to avoid waiting in line forever, he and his brothers would get to the front by.....ok...I need to stop and ensure you aren't eating, as this will prompt an immediate gag reflex.....we good? Ok then.....

Marine Man: "My brothers and I would smear poop on our faces so our dad would have to rush us to the front of the line and pretend it was an emergency, and then we'd get on the ride faster"

Me: "Did that just happen? Did you really just say that? Out loud? (internal thought: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!?)

Marine Man: "What? It tastes like chicken!"

I'm pretty sure he is kidding, but still. Not a funny joke to make.....ever. He says this on a first date. Again, this is a first date, and we're in public. God hates me.

We are now being sat at our table. I'm pretty speechless at this point. He starts asking me about my birthday trip to Vegas, so I figure telling a few Vegas stories is harmless. He gets a salad with his meal. At this point, I deduct that he is not accustomed to eating in nice places. I embrace Coastal Flats is not the Ritz, but you get the gist. He is eating in a pretty sloppy manner, all the while making comments like "do I have something in my teeth...I get so self conscious about eating in front of people". I get the drunken ribeye, because I'm at least going to get a nice steak out of this train wreck of a situation. While we're eating, he brings up the movie we are supposed to go see at the theatre right across the street. I access my iPhone to look up movie times, despite how horribly this is going thus far. I do so for purely selfish reasons....I want to see the movie. You understand. While I'm looking up movie times on my phone, Marine Man takes his phone out and takes a picture of me.

Me: "Really?!?!"

Marine Man: "Yeh...."

Me: "Did you really just take a picture of me at the dinner table? Look, I'm not photogenic. Can you delete that please?"

Marine Man: "You're beautiful, and very photogenic" (Ok. Pay attention, gentlemen. That's not complimentary...that's just fucking creepy)

After he pays the bill, we walk around outside because the movie doesn't start for another 45 minutes or so. It starts to rain while we're walking past the second store, yet he doesn't seem bothered by it. Perfect, weird and waterproof. Score. Ummmm, have I mentioned I have naturally curly hair? WTF! What woman wants to walk around in the rain, anyway?? A few minutes later of walking around in the rain, and he finally suggests this.....

Marine Man: "I know you probably don't want to drive around or you might feel weird, but do you want to drive around for a bit in my car?"

Me: "Nope, sure don't. Why don't we get out of the rain and go back to the bar and I'll get us drinks...how about that??" (if ever I needed a martini....sigh...)

He agrees, we head back to Coastal Flats, and I order myself two martinis at a time. As he is drinking his beer, I'm already halfway done with my second martini. Evidently, I drink heavily in the company of fuckwits. I honestly don't remember how we got on the subject of pets, but he asks me what kind of dogs I had while growing up. I respond that I had a Doberman Pinscher and Springer Spaniel.

Marine Man: "Wow...a German dog... a Jew with a German dog...you don't see that very often!"

Me: "Excuse me?" (seriously?!?!!?!?)

Marine Man: "Yeh...a Jew with a German dog...just not something that happens everyday..." (not at all realizing the landmine he's just thrown himself on)

Me: "And?? Actually I have no idea what one has to do with the other...."

Marine Man: (tries his best to explain how there are no German Jews in existence anymore, though I cannot remember this particular quotable item...I may have zoned out at this point)

Me: "Sooo you're saying there are no German Jews in existence? Seriously? This, coming from someone in the military? Guess they just teach you to point and shoot, and then skip the rest of the other stuff, huh?"

Marine Man: "Well, yeh. Weren't they all killed off?" (I wish I could make this shit up. He really thought this)

Me: (laughs in his face for a few minutes) "Uh no...you're kidding me, right?"

Right before I'm about to publicly humiliate/belittle him, he decides it's best to transition back to being overly complimentary.....because I didn't hear him the 8th fucking time. He goes on about how pretty I am, how I have princess features, and that I have "Disney princess eyes". Really, what do you say to that after being told you emulate a cartoon character. Thanks doesn't quite suffice. Just my opinion.

It is FINALLY time for the movie. And yes, I have already told myself a thousand and one times to just ditch him and go see the movie another time with someone else. I have also already told myself a thousand and one times to see this nightmare thru to the end. The nightmare wins. Who is surprised by this? Anyone???

Shockingly enough, there are no issues in the movie. Of course, movies typically require that there be silence...so this could be the reason why. After the movie, we are walking out and he has the audacity to ask, "so what do you want to do now?"

Me: "Um call it a night....definitely call it a night." (for some reason he's still walking alongside me....ummmmmmmmmmm)

Me: (stopping in the street at this point, mainly because I'm uncomfortable with him knowing what kind of car I drive) "Ok so...is your car over here or what?" (praying he'd get the hint. Sadly, he didn't)

Marine Man: "No, my car is way over there (points to the far away parking lot...this is my nightmare). I was just figuring I'd walk you to your car...is that like me stalking you or something? Should I not do that?"

Me: "Oh no, that's fine. I'm a big girl....PLENTY of lighting in the lot...I'll be totally fine...you can walk to your car from here, no worries..."

Marine Man: "Oh, ok. Well, thanks for meeting me out. I had an amazing time and you're beautiful, and I hope we can do this again and I'll text you tomorrow!"

Me: "Right. Thanks for dinner and the movie....ok cool, see ya!" (is the end near???)

The following day's text goes a little something like, "I really enjoyed meeting up with you last night! You're even prettier in person. I'd like to take you out again if you concur. Happy Saturday!!"

I cannot fathom how the poor guy thought this date went well at all. I seriously can't. I now refer to him as that poor guy because Operation Avoid/Ignore/Pretend you're dead and/or got a new phone number commenced VERY shortly thereafter. You would too if you were me. Don't judge.

Where was Justin Timberlake for MY wardrobe malfunction???

It's a gorgeous day outside. Clear blue skies. The sun is shining and the pool is beckoning. On top of it all, I have already secured a fabulous raft for only $5. Best. Investment. Ever.

My friends and I inflate said raft and take it for a test drive in the pool. My neighbor decides he wants to play with it too. After flipping me over, he steals it. Naturally, being the spiteful bitch I am, I decide I'm going to flip him over....only I can't do so unless I swim underneath the damn thing and jump up to flip him over. Ohhhhhhh, I've totally got this in the bag.

My neighbor had invited this super cute coworker of his, who of course is watching the whole time and is on board with me getting my revenge. So there I go....diving underneath to follow thru with my vengeful plot. Little do I know, my bikini bottoms have other plans. They are the type that tie on both sides.....and then evidently don't stay tied.....right. Let's discuss how it feels to be bottomless and essentially skinny dipping in a public pool.....in the middle of the day....with friends, strangers, and yes....little children around to bear witness to the mother of all wardrobe malfunctions. Fucking perfect.

In hindsight, I probably should have been as quiet as possible when getting my girlfriend's attention to come help me tie my bottoms back on my ass. I probably shouldn't have been flailing my arms about in attempts to cover myself with free appendages. But seriously.....what the fuck would you do??!?!!? Well, I'll tell you what I do....I scream, curse, and then proceed to screech in a very high pitched tone, "Candace come heeeeeeeeeeeeeere!!!!!!!!!"

Everyone is laughing too hard for anyone to immediately come to my rescue. Asshats. My friend finally comes and helps this very, very naked girl tie her bottoms back on...thanks friend. Thanks a heap. I then look around, and the lifeguards are laughing hysterically while everyone else seems to be emulating the awkward deer caught in headlights look combined with the crickets chirping silence as well. Swell. I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised by the reaction. Had I seen some stranger's naked ass with bikini bottoms in hand, all the while screaming her fucking head off.....I'd be a little shaken up too.

Truth be told, I'm still waiting for the police to come to my door on grounds of indecent exposure, public nudity, drunk in public, or to otherwise peg me as a flasher Franny. So far so good. If anyone is able to locate my dignity, however, please alert me at once. Thank you, kindly.

Surviving an Afternoon with My Mother

The blessed Beverly Hills event is coming up fast, and some of us have not yet found the appropriate wardrobe for the brunches, parties, et al. My mother emails me a few days ago to suggest we go shopping for dresses today. I have yet to find what I need, so I figure why not..what would go wrong? The following is just a few prized moments of the afternoon.

Lunch prior to dress shopping. We are sat and patiently (ok, one of us is) awaiting our server to come greet us and take our order. Mom is getting antsy, naturally. I know you're shocked.

Mom: "Where is our server??? Do they serve regular hamburgers here? I don't want cheese or bacon." (It's a fucking Applebees. I'm pretty sure they have burgers. Just saying)

Me: "Mom it's Applebees. I'm pretty sure they have burgers and you can leave off whatever you like."

The server finally comes to greet us and take our order. We both order burgers and I order a side salad to come before my burger. This does not happen, however I am not surprised by this. But we'll get to that in a little bit.

Mom: "Where is the server?? This place has the worst service ever!"

Me: "You wanted to come here, Mom. What did you expect from this place? Really."

Mom (5 minutes later): "Did our server die???? What is taking him so long?!?!"

The server finally comes with our food, bringing my salad and burger at the same time. Thanks, asshat, for living up to my expectations.

We eat, pay, then head to the mall. Oh, the mall......did I mention I loathe shopping in department stores? They annoy me. They make me itch. I try to avoid them. My mother, however, decides that we need to park near Lord & Taylor because we are clearly going to be spending the better part of the afternoon there. FML.

So we're in Lord & Taylor, looking for dresses for both her and myself. I, of course, found very little, while my mother was picking several different options to try on. She ended up liking none, then asked if there was a petite section (we are both petite, don't judge). The woman informs there that there is a petite section, but the section we were just in for the last hour (seriously, a fucking hour in one store....shoot me) is where all of the dresses are typically organized.

My mother decides the previous section isn't good enough so we must go to the petite section so she can search for more options. Nevermind the fact that there are no dresses in that petite section. As we walk thru the purse section, we see a man holding a purse. The woman he was with already has her own, so the whole "he's being a gentleman and holding it for her" excuse cannot be used in this scenario. Sorry.

Mom (loudly, no inside voices uses here): "Did you see that man with a purse?!?!?!"

Me (didn't even bother to turn around to address her): "Yes, Mom. Everyone saw. And now everyone just heard you yell that, so thanks."

Mom: "Oh, no one heard me!!! It's fine!" (Uh huh......)

We are now in the petite section, and there is maybe one dress, and it is far from appropriate for where we are going. Waste of time. So we go back downstairs to head towards the mall area. As we are riding the escalator down (to where we originally were!!!), my mother feels the need to comment on an observation of hers.

Mom: "You know, Dawn, I've always noticed how no one that works in a Lord & Taylor speaks English. Have you noticed that?"

Me: "Nope, don't pay attention. Sorry." (Really just attempting to stop this conversation from progressing, quite unsuccessfully I might add)

Mom: "Well, yeah. I mean they are always really nice, but I just notice that they never speak English that well."

Me: "..................................." (crickets chirping)

Did that really just happen? Yes, yes it did. Fantastic.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with things like "No, Mom, put that down", "No, Mom, you are not wearing that crap", "Really, Mom?", "What the hell were you thinking when you even bothered to bring that to me?", "Mom, I love you, but if you wear that shit, we are not related while we're there." I eventually stop even saying anything and just start giving the "REALLY??? FOR FUCK SAKE!!" look. She soon catches on and starts searching for things that are more.....we'll go with normal and in this fashion era.

We end up finding dresses that are appropriate for both the Friday and Saturday functions while we are there, so we can FINALLY be done with shopping and leave. We're driving home and she starts the usual navigation flip outs. You don't know what navigation flip outs are? Oh, here you go.....

Mom (driving): "Quick! Tell me where to go!! Where do I go???? Where do I turn???"

Me (in a calm voice): "Mom, you go back the same way you came. Logical, no?"

Mom (who, might I add, has driven in the area countless times!!!): "I don't know! You have to tell me!!!"

Me (rolling my eyes): "Ok, turn left then right at the light."

Mom: "Ok, where do I go after that left?" (she completely ignores the second part of the directions)

Me: "Right at the light, like I just told you, then left onto (insert street name here)."

Mom: "Where is that?!?! I don't know where that is! You have to tell me!!" (seriously?????)

Me (I lose it): "Oh my freaking Lord, Mom. You have GOT to pay more attention when you drive! I tell you a street name, you need to open your eyes and see that street name at the light. Or pull over and let me drive. Seriously."

She neither pulls over to let me drive nor does she stop with the step-by-step nagging/demanding/requesting of directions back to my house. I am now treating myself to a nice Advil/bottled water cocktail, as a result. Wow. Just wow. Had I known she needed fucking GPS to venture 1.5 miles away from my house, I would have offered to drive. Live and learn.

Lesson learned from this trip: Have a martini, or 4, prior to dress shopping with my mother. It might make time cruise/fly at a faster rate.....and it might render me more agreeable with respect to her...um...fashion choices, driving behavior, and overall demeanor with people. Just saying.

Get a clue, Laptop Mafia. Or maybe google it.

It's around 10:30pm and my friend's band is playing. Everyone's having a great time...singing, dancing, drinking...you know the drill. Well, you might know the drill, but the gentlemen that arrived shortly thereafter clearly did not. They show up in full on business attire: the tailored suit, the wing tip shoes, the briefcases, and the item of the hour....laptop bags, with what I can only assume actually contain laptops in them. They show up and take over the dance floor...and by take over I really just mean stand there, looking like fools, in front of everyone. Please note this is not a late Happy Hour. This is not at 5 or 6pm. This transpires at 10:30pm.

My friends and I immediately notice this walking professional cliche. I, of course, refuse to let this go and motion for the perceived leader of the Laptop Mafia to come over to us. This wasn't difficult, as he and his trusty followers were already looking our way. Darwin's weakest link comes over to the group and starts flirting with us, at which point we interrupt him to ask what prompted his group to bring laptops to the bar. I mean really, tell me you wouldn't be wondering the same thing! Were they going to log on and do some occupationally critical computing while my friends are belting out Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" in the background?? Actually, I'm pretty sure he mutters something about them just getting off work, but nevermind that. We are already more acutely focused on one of the other members of their group. This special individual is snarling at us, yelling something, and throwing his hands up for some reason. I suppose maybe he's a tad offended by our antics. Oops? We direct the Laptop Mafia leader to his crazy friend who is making violent gestures and the leader turns around and asks us if we would like some drinks. Now, I'm all for a cute, successful guy buying me a drink.....but these individuals are not exceptionally attractive, and I'm convinced they are the type of guys that wear professional clothing (complete with accessories) to a bar in order to make themselves appear more successful than they are....because really they live in mom's basement and fling hamburger patties for a living. So, in almost unison, we respond with a resounding "No". I think I can safely say no one in my group regretted the decision of turning down said beverage offer. I did, however, suggest that he run back to his group because it looked like his crazy friend needed a drink. I think everyone behaves slightly more favorably in public when they are at least somewhat medicated, no?

This scenario, of course, reminds me of other instances where I thought I was witnessing a deleted scene from Boiler Room inappropriately set in a bar or restaurant scene. There is no logical reason why someone would need to conduct official business within the confines of a bar, Chili's, Panera, Cosi, or God forbid, a McDonald's. Seriously, do they not have an office? If you are wearing a Brooks Brothers suit, sporting Kenneth Cole shoes, maybe a Rolex watch to accessorize, with a Blue tooth strapped to your ear...I feel as though you might be able to afford to store your professional belongings, such as your laptop and briefcase, in a more appropriate place. And if you are already going to be carrying around a laptop bag or man purse alike, has it completely escaped your attention that you might be able to fit a change of clothes in one of those bags? Just saying.

Terry cloth bathrobe, nice pair of earrings, and 1 urban dictionary. Check.

I'm going to tell you a story starring my mother. It might make you laugh, it might make you feel slightly uncomfortable, it might even make you cringe....but it's a true story I will never, ever forget. What's worse is she won't let me forget it.

This little gem of a scenario dates back to the holidays. I'm outside, walking my dogs (ok, they are little white furry squirrels...but technically they're dogs) when my mother calls me. I answer and we start discussing mundane things like what she's making for Thanksgiving dinner, what I should bring to the house for Thanksgiving dinner, what time I'm arriving, if I'm bringing the dogs, and oh yes my personal favorite....what's teabagging?!?!?!?!

Me: (awkward silence) "What?" (I figure if I respond with a question she'll just forget. No dice)

Mom: "Do you know what teabagging is? Is it something gay men do?"

Me: (crickets chirping) "Ummmm where did you hear that phrase?"

Mom: "Oh, from the radio. So can you tell me what it is? Is it something bad?"

Me: "I'd really rather not. Can't you just google it or something?"

Mom: "Ok fine. Well, what is boning? Do you know that one?"

Me: "Oh for Christ sake, where did you hear THAT?"

Mom: "Oh I heard that one from Keeping Up with the Kardashians! Love that show!"

Me: "Uh huh, I'm sure you do...please stop watching it. And start listening to more CDs please."

This conversation definitely goes down in history as one of the most awkward conversations I've ever had with my mother. Silver lining? Oh this definitely made it's way around my family, including BBQs, in different states in a matter of days. Nothing new for them though, I suppose. Several years ago, at a family wedding, my grandmother (we called her Granny Gotrocks...I think the name speaks for itself) came back from the hair salon complaining about how much she had spent on a "f***ing blowjob". Clearly a discrepancy between what she said and what she meant.....but I digress.

So, anywho, back to my mother. Her birthday is coming up, and she has given some suggestions as to what she would like. Among these items are a terry cloth bathrobe and a nice pair of earrings. I will most likely make her happy and get these things, but I'm SERIOUSLY considering purchasing her an urban dictionary as well, should she need to utilize it from time to time. She still asks me for assistance on an assortment of exceptionally awkward vocabulary, and I'd just assume not have these conversations with my mother and have her seek this wealth of knowledge elsewhere. Just saying.

Why hello Mr. Blogpost, how do you do?

Have you ever had a friend who speaks with minimal filtering? Comments on random observations, albeit not sugar coating even the slightest offensive part? Umm that's sort of me....

This blog is a pseudo response to several folks who have read my Facebook status messages and either can't believe I just posted that or find my updates entertaining enough that some have even suggested I publish my "priceless one liners". Clearly if someone says something on Facebook, it MUST be true..so I'm going with that. Quite frankly, I'm too lazy at this point in time to sit down and write a book....so blog it is. At least in this forum, I won't have strict character limits as I rant and rave about what I have just observed. Oh Facebook....why do you limit me so?

So here it is....my first blog post ever. Quick and painless.....ahhhh like some of my past relationships.

Of course, if anything I write ever offends................oops? :)