a guinness virgin abroad

well, when i was watching the world series down the street (YEA RED SOX!) at the new rehabbed local bar, i decided to become a guinness girl. it was either that or stella (i told myself), & i picked guinness. it sounds kinda powerful & smart.

so tonite i run over to the package store to pick up a 6-pack & my standard bacardi backup, & then i get an onion pizza. sit down & watch my fav sitcom & i'm like hmmm. something's in this bottle.

so first i think it's ice. then it doesn't melt. then i think well, maybe it's a finger. you know, like it got caught off, stuck & froze there. kinda like the wendy's fiasco. then i wonder if it's just a fluke. like a part of bottle drifted off & went & hid there during processing. but since my beer still tastes ok (not like on draft, but not terrible), i keep drinking. waste not want not.

so i get about done with my guinness & turn the bottle upside down. this little thing looks kinda like a contraceptive or a little boy's body part. i'm thinking, well, either i won a prize (i actually looked at the bottle & no, there wasn't any where's waldo on the outside) or this is supposed to be here.

i of course can't call my friends & let on that i'm crazy for not knowing what this little thingymabob is, so i go online.

turns out i am the proud possessor of a rocket widget. the latest in beer foaming technology.

of course i can't take my widget out to play, because it's stuck in the bottle. which is a little dissappointing because i'd like a new toy that looks like a little boy toy rocket. i'm a little frustrated actually. i have a widget to play with and no way of getting it out of the bottle.

thanks guinness. it was a great beer but what about my widget? when does it come out to play?

liar liar, oh my pants are on fire!

ian coburn, in his awesome book, god is a woman, talks about how women lie to themselves.

damn, do we ever.

i'm on these message boards & some chick worries about her boyfriend cheating overseas. she says to him, are you cheating or something to that effect. his response is unintelligible and it makes no sense. he of course, never says no. in fact, here's his exact response:

"you're not going to cheat on me, so why would I? how come I'm going to cheat and you're absolutely not. Ever?"

read carefully here, he basically admits he's cheating. in case you missed it, he actually says "i'm going to cheat." instead of trusting her gut, she asks all the girls on the board, should she be worried? they rally around her telling her, no, don't worry about it. she says ok, we're gonna be together forever so i need to trust him.

does she stop worrying? no. she lies to herself not only about his possible cheating, but now about the fact that she should care. now we have two lies, supported by all her online friends.

i draft a response saying, yehuh, you should care. what kinda lameass response did he just give you? then i delete it. why? she can't handle the truth.

i did it. i saw other girls do it. we all lie to ourselves to stay with cheaters. we even lie to them. "yes, mr. possible cheater, my boyfriend, my love, i believe you when you said you never lied to me."

(just for the record, am i being bitter and saying all men cheat? NO! in case you missed the topic of this post, rewind to the beginning and start over...)

i dunno why we lie, but we do. why? the alternative is being alone. or that's what we tell ourselves. (yet another lie we tell ourselves, that makes 3, since another guy hotter than the one before always comes along 6.5 months after losing the loser...)

right about now i'll say chalk one up for being alone for the next 5 months until hotter guy shows up.

this bud's for me.

cheatin': ID'd 'em

ok, if you got that header, you're a pro.

so i'm getting better at IDing cheaters. this guy owns this store i went in, hit on me hard. i was like, damn, ok. what was that. came over to my dance class.

then started saying "come over to the store..." "call me" "blah blah blah".

i was like hmmm. lemme see now. he's not callin' me, asking for my phone number, taking me out for dinner, why would that be?

i axed his ass. [dusts off hands] [spits disgustedly]

how much is that divorce in the window?

someone said this on a message board...


:I'm starting to see A LOT of my friends go through divorced right now and they confide to me that they never should have gotten married in the first place, or their partner told them that they always had doubts about getting married to them:

here was my reply:

this statement you made is amazing. i find it so interesting, sociologically speaking, that we're all dying to get into legal agreements (marriage) that have a 50% chance of failing. speaking as someone who has retirement savings to lose (these aren't covered under pre-nups), and who is counting on that as security to protect from a guy leaving me alone with kids (like my dad left my mom), i wonder why i feel like i'm a failure not to be married.
society makes us feel that we are. yet i've turned down an offer, that is still outstanding probably, with an ex. it's not about being married, it's about sharing your life with the right person. if either party has sincere doubts, a 50% failure rate is too costly to consider. we'd never accept that in a business deal, but we do it every day for our hearts, hormones, or fears. whatever the reason is...

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so don't consider me anti-marriage from this post, let's just call it anti-divorce...

when curiosity doesn't kill the cat

something there is that loves a mystery. and not only during halloween, but whenever the lights go out...

the trick in any relationship is to keep your cat curious. kill him with curiosity if you can. create a chase that he can't resist, through dark alleys and around creepy corners. entice him to plot & plan, smacking his lips with the imagined taste of you, so that like my last boyfriend the night i finally kissed him, said - "i've been wanting to do that for a long time."

the problem with cats is that if they don't get killed by their curiosity at night, they lose interest in the bright light of day. corners are no longer creepy and things don't go bump in the dark any more. that's the point at which a smart girl has to create some illusive mystery to compensate.

and herein the problem lies. while i am smart, i tire of being illusive even more quickly than my cat, leaving him ramming his nose into my little a** when i stop running. this doesn't create a particularly pleasant experience for either of us, as he imagined that i was a toy he could chase forever down the dark allies of his imagination. or get killed in the process, immortalizing him forever as a romeo killed in the pursuit of love. nor am i particularly fond of exchanging these sexy dark allies for the bright expose of any relationship that makes it into the light of day.

to add insult to injury, i tend to be particularly successful at running from cats i'm not interested in, while rolling over and playing dead to those i find attractive. while in the world of dogs this might work, it does not generally work with cats.

so i ponder my quandary from atop the window-sill, in the sun (which is perhaps my problem right there, desiring to learn the mysteries of creepy night crawls). and instead of coming to some impressive conclusion, that would impress any feline, or female for that matter, i again fall asleep with my tail curled round my head.

which just goes to show you why i'm single...i like lying around in the sun.