The universe has a sense of irony

Friday night I did what any normal single gal does...I got roped into going on a pub crawl. I know, I know, I'm not usually one for it but this crowd of friends - I think after several times of going out with them I can 'losely' call them that (hey, Facebook says we're 'friends') - is always a riot and well, being the totally selfish singleton I am, I'm pretty much guaranteed to be outnumbered 1:5 in female to male rati. Who doesn't like those odds even if there are no prospects to write home about?

Anyways, within this group is one interesting other female. My ex's divorce lawyer. C, who introduced me to this crowd, and I discovered it over a year ago and every time we go out, we carefully avoid mentioning my last name as well, it's sure to jog her memory as to where she has heard it before. And no need to make a mountain out of a molehill - after all, she had a wedding to finance when she was working on the case - glad to see le ex could help her out in that arena. ;o)

So today, photos of the event showed up on Facebook. Well, actually photos showed up throughout the weekend but I noticed mutual friend S was tagged in one today. One of her and I. I appear in a photo album of le ex's divorce lawyer on Facebook.

Oh, the irony. If only she knew....

Some habits die harder

I had a bit of a 'whoa, Freudian slip' moment this am. In discussing plans with two couple friends for Canada Day, I replied to an email saying...

'will it only be the 6 of us?'

As in 1 couple, 2 couples and me 'couple' = 5 people, not 6.

Some habits do die hard....

200 seconds...how many have you experienced?

I was reading my daily in the news brief at work today and saw this URL in a story about Twitter. I decided to check it out - hey, it's 'work' related...so awesome. My question to you, how many of these flics have you seen?

Old habits die hard...

When le ex and I split, I went on a mini rampage of 'reclaiming my space' both in the house and in all the other places we used to visit. I needed to make everything 'mine' so to speak. Part of this reclamation also included kicking some annoying habits to the curb that you got into because it appeased the other party. I now gleefully squeeze from the middle of the toothpaste tube whenever I damn well please and never worry about the chastisement that will follow.

The one thing that was quite hard to overcome was how big and empty my bed was all of a sudden. So I immediately did what any logical person would do - I began sleeping on 'his' side in a proverbial middle finger to say 'ha, this is ALL my bed now'. But one thing I couldn't do was to somehow break the habit of sleeping on one side or the other.

The last few days I've been sleeping with light covers and a fan - I'm trying to make it to Canada Day without putting on the AC - I'm going to have to crack later this week as my main floor of my house was 25 degrees this am before I left for work. On Monday, when I came out of the bathroom after my shower, I noticed that the blankets and my pillow were in an odd position. Thinking it rather strange, I decided to note where I was lying when I awoke this am.

After a year and a half, I have finally progressed to true single sleeping habits - I now sleep diagonally across the bed.

Deep thoughts...from HWY 7

I get down to visit the fam about once every calendar month. Lately it seems I go down on babysitting excursions and those that are friends with me on Fakebook may see my status updates that tell you exactly how my adventures in babysitting went. For the most part, they leave me wanting another drink and thankfully returning to my uncomplicated life in the city.

To render my free services, I have to drive the 197 km from doorstep to doorstep. That's 394 km round trip where I am alone in the car to belt out whatever bubblegum pop comes on the radio and to rage to myself about drivers on HWY 7.

There are a few things I've come to realize. No one seems to understand the concept of 'slower traffic keep right' especially in passing lanes. And speaking of passing lanes, why is it that everyone does 10-15 km faster in the passing lane than they were previously going - only to once again slow down when the extra lane merges, thereby clogging up traffic again. And why is it that some drivers will cock block (see definition #2, second meaning) you when you try and peek around their cars to see if you can pass or not? But it's really the local traffic on HWY 7 that gets me every time.

I think, every domestically-owned manufacturer of car, makes big huge white cars for old people to drive so that they can be mistaken for OPP and then no one passes them when they are out for their Sunday drives and doing 78km/hour. Stuck behind these cars are the soccer mom driven mini vans that stay close enough to the bumper of the oldies car so that if you want to pass, you have to overtake both of them, but they never pass themselves.

And then, there are the trucks.

I grew up in a truck family. My mom drove a car, my dad a truck. And every car we owned had a name - Black Beauty, Old Grey Mare, etc. It got me in the habit of naming cars myself - also because I feel, as road ragey as this will sound, like it's me and my car against everyone else on the road. We're a team. I treat her well, she shows me the passing love. And she never lets me down.

So this am I got stuck behind a big burly truck on HWY 7. He, like the soccer moms, was driving too close to, you guessed it, a big white car full of old people, so I couldn't pass both of them easily. As we were getting close to civilization (ie. Perth), I knew that I would eventually lose some of the congestion in Perth so I decided to just wait out the 10km to pass.

And that's when I really started to look at the truck. I noticed that there was some kinda decal above the Sierra nameplate on the back tailgate. I thought it said 'intermediate' as in, a medium sized Sierra. Hey, what do I know, I drive Fiona the Fit?? But no, as I got closer, so I could D&S (Drive and Snap), I realized it acutually said 'intimidator' which only made me roll my eyes more because, if you can read the license plate it says....

Girthy

















This would only be better if he had a set of truck testicles hanging from the hitch like my next door neighbours ex-husband does from his truck. He is CLASS, ALL - THE - WAY!























And those have been your Sunday deep thoughts from HWY 7.

Keepin' it real

I ran into B at Flacklife a few weeks ago at a work event. I forget that he reads my blog so when he asked me what's new and I started to rant about this or that (what? you think I ever just 'talk'?) he knowingly acknowledged everything I was saying because, low and behold, I'd blogged about most of it.

Part of his amusement was the WHMPC. I'm sure, after my recent post, that that was the inspiration for him thinking of me while reading his daily Dilbert this am so I was the lucky recipient of a link to this:




*insert old man wheezing while laughing*

Thanks for the chuckle, B. And for helping to put some perspective on this and 'keep it real'.

Postscript: seems that the Dilbert fans take this WAY too literally. If you can't see the full comic, click on it and then read the comments below at http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2009-06-18/

WHMPC - Post-it Note Cliche Guy

A few weekends ago, I did the Sunday morning date thing again. And while C from my office likes to say, in a coy voice 'you sure that's a new date and not just a left over from Saturday night?!?' with a wink of her eye, no, C, it was a first date.

PiNC Guy and I decided to meet at Starbucks on Rideau and then head out to breakfast. For past reference, he's the guy who had plans on Saturday so we made them for Sunday but wanted to switch if his plans fell through. And let me say now that it was you, dear readers, who told me to go for it. Perhaps the LAST time I let you meddle in my lack there of love life.

Anyways, we went for breakfast and then decided to go for a walk. Conversation flowed easily but we stayed away from the dating interview questions and just let it flow as it should. For you married or otherwise attached or otherwise forgotten what it's like to date, those are the 'so where do you work/what do you do/when was your last relationship/do you want to have kids/do you have a good relationship with your family/what are you looking for in a relationship/do you still talk to your ex' kinda questions. You know, the 'let's cut the bullshit, are you marrying material or not? I got eggs that are expiring, let's get this going' kinda questions. You know, the questions every guy - and me it seems - hates.

So, a few hours later, we were still walking around the Market and talking. At one point he made some reference to the fact that I lived on the Quebec side of the river.

*insert record scratch*

WAH? How do you figure? Apparently, he got my 889 exchange mixed up with the 819 area code. He discovered this when he pulled a post it note out of his pocket with my number written on it... AND A LIST OF SAFE SUBJECTS TO TALK ABOUT WHILE ON OUR DATE TOO! He embarrassingly put the PiN away but not before I teased him mercilessly about it. Such a romantic comedy movie move! HA! And cliche #1.

So, one thing led to another and we had dinner together and then hung out all evening and it turned into a 14 hour date.

And then I didn't hear from him for 3 days - you know, following the '3 day rule'. Why? Why do men do that? Is it a fear of letting us think that we 'got to them'? Life is short - forget the games.

So he asked to see me on Thursday but I had rowing and Eau d'Ottawa River was apparently not appealing to him. And that was it. No attempt to reschedule, no follow up emails. So I sent him an email on the Friday saying 'what, was that my only chance for a second date?' (in a joking manner, not a stalker manner). I got a response on Monday saying that he 'supposed' we could get together again. Not at all impressed with this, I said 'you suppose so?!? Don't show too much enthusiasm now' and I offered him a way out with stating that if he's had some time to digest and think he's not really interested, that's cool too. (*Inside voice: maybe I'm just too laissez-faire when it comes to dating?*)

And then the response I didn't see coming.

He then confessed to the fact that the girl he had in fact had the date with on the Saturday (okay, I should have listened to my sloppy seconds gut) he wanted to focus on dating her and so if things didn't work out then maybe in a couple of weeks we could get together.

So the new take on the old cliche of 'it's not you, it's me' is now 'it's not you, it's not me, it's her'.

But let's not forget the mantra people....

ON TO THE NEXT!

WHMPC - the 15 year old

Wow, that's a scandalous title - wait to pass judgement though...you may be surprised.

A couple months back, I had to go with S to a captain's meeting for our Tuesday night kickball team. The meeting was for all spring league captains to pick up our equipment and rules so every sport offered was there and the lineups to hand over a $75 deposit cheque and walk up to the back of a truck and get our designate equipment, à la buying hot goods out the back of a pickup, were long.

While standing there, we did what most 20-10 year old single gals would do.

We scoped out the guys.

Of particular note was a tall, dark haired cutie standing with 2 of his guy friends who kept looking over at us. It was then that S realized she worked with him and began telling me the story of how she knows him through a toastmaster's meeting she once went to. Of course, throughout the story, we both kept stealing looks and he of us. She made him sound sweet and endearing and the inner, closeted geek in me couldn't help but love the fact that he was wearing a CBC raglan tshirt.

Knowing S's propensity to be a tad bit bold when it's not her neck on the line, I refrained from telling her I thought he was a cutie until we had done the deed at the back of the truck and were on our way to my car - him being lost somewhere in the shuffle of several hundred other people and subsequently safe from any impromptu introductions. And good thing I did as the first words out of my mouth were 'why didn't you tell me? I could've gone over and talked to him!' Pfew, dodged that bullet...or so I thought.

After that, S made it her mission at work to do recon on him and find out as much as she could about him. I love her for that. It cracks me up. Over the coming months, I discovered (through her recon) his name*, that he is Francophone but speaks English quite well, plays soccer on Monday nights and was looking for some girls for his team, and was starting a conversational Spanish group at their work.

Fast forward to last week and S asks me if I want to go to a work BBQ with her. Correction, if I want to crash a work BBQ with her. While she's technically invited, it's not really her work crowd and she won't know many people there but there were speculations of the elicit CBC shirt wearing guy in attendance. And as MChen once advised, a single gal on the market should never turn down an offer as you'll never know who you're going to meet.

So Friday came and I was having an exceptionally low day at home. Prepping for painting, I had my first pangs of buyer's remorse about my house. Basically, I was overwhelmed and not in a good mood. But I gussied up for an outdoor BBQ (read: found a clean pair of jeans, flip flops and a T) and picked up S. Upon arrival, we were looking for S's friends when, typical of the drama that unfolds in this purdy little head of mine, the crowd parted and there he stood - CBC shirt wearing guy. Except this time, he was wearing a checkered blue shirt. Knowing S, she would have gone right into stealth mode so I kept the sighting to myself until I had become comfortable in the setting.

When he finally did not escape S's detection, we played crowd tag for a couple hours until we found him talking to one of her good friends J. S then went over and was oh so coy in her suggestion to J that she introduce us which she promptly did and then she and CBC guy left to get more beer.

In the dating world, I think that constitutes a crash and burn.

But wait, J made good on her insider knowledge and brought him back to us for more conversations after they'd refilled their cups. She and S and he talked about work and I discovered a few more tidbits about him like his educational background in European history and Latin America and his work as a financial analyst. YEA! More geekiness!

And what did he and I talk about you ask?

It went something like this:



So actually, I think in the dating world that THAT constitutes a crash and burn.

After a while, the group we were standing in filtered in new people to the conversation and S and I moved on. A while later, we ran into J again who gushingly asked how it went. She was not impressed at my crash and burn. Especially considering she had mentioned to him that I had requested an introduction.

No, people, NOW I think it constitutes a COMPLETE crash and burn.

So where does the 15 year old come in? The 15 year old in this story is me. I, yes, I became completely tongue tied around this guy like some 15 year old whose crush just walked past her locker. And for what? How many blind dates/internet dates do I go on? How many new teams have I signed up for on my own? How often do I give presentations at work? And yet when presented with prime opportunity to speak to my own proverbial crush, I turn into a tongue tied 15 year old and end up channeling Deborah Kerr from An Affair to Remember.

So that's my WHMPC story du jour. And the worst one to date as I was the sole person responsible for the wastage.

*We'll keep him as CBC shirt wearing guy for now.

WHMPC - Marathon Date Man

It took me a few minutes to come up with a nickname for this date. I've come to realize that the worse the date, the worse the nickname. Unfortunately - or fortunately? - I didn't have one instantly that came to mind for A so I'm basing it on our dating 'history' instead.

A contacted me online and sent me a pretty nondescript first message. So I sent a pretty nondescript reply. That seemed to get the message across and my subsequent messages from him were longer and quite interesting so we agreed, after about a week, to meet for coffee in the park.

Coffee in the park somehow went from an hour to 4 hours. Our second date didn't disappoint and we ended up being out for about 10 hours (now you know why I get nothing done around the house). All subsequent dates after that were just as long and for 3 weeks, we really enjoyed each others company, got along well, had lots to talk about and things were going really well.

And then the inevitable happened.

He freaked and headed for the hills. In a brief phone conversation (I know, soooo tacky), he stated that he just thought things were going too fast and wasn't ready for it. And my reaction? Hmm...okay, whatever. I would have thought I'd be more upset by it seeing as how it was the closest thing to resemble a relationship since being back on the market after the breakup with le ex but well, I wasn't. Kinda harsh, yes, maybe, but the truth nonetheless. While it was a fun interlude between my winter and spring sports teams, it wasn't exactly like I'd done the typical girl thing and gotten all attached and planning monogrammed towels or anything.

And so, as I've come to think of dating after all WHMPC dates....

on to the next!

NY ladies to watch over me...

...and fill my head with half truths about dating.

Staycation is a wonderful thing. Unfortunately, I haven't been nearly as productive as I'd like to have been but well, to hell with it. Life is short and if the first two days I spent just puttering around and watching Sex and the City, then so be it. I'll be a painting queen all weekend so who cares.

One of the things that I did accomplish today was to finally get up a piece of artwork on my bedroom all that has been sitting beside my dresser for months. Yes, months.

If you've been to my house or you know me at all, you know I don't like...clutter. Not on my walls, not on my flat surfaces, nada no where. Except in my home office and well, that's just paperwork and laundry. And filing in my at work office. So it takes a lot for me to decide to put something up. And then, about a year ago, I was inspired in a home magazine for the perfect picture to go above my bed.

But it was $100. For a print. And not even a great one. So I said screw it. But the inspiration was still there.

Fast forward a half year and low and behold, I find another print, of similar composition for 1/4 the price. So I snapped it up. And as of tonight, lucky lady Audrey Hepburn will watch over me as I dream:


Ain't she a dish?

Online dating is like Ebay

An acquaintance and I were ranting about dating and the online dating phenomenon. While I'd like to say that I came up with that brilliant little tidbit in my title on my own, Big Oil was the first one I heard to say it. However, I've really given it some thought and she was more than right.

When you get on to an online site, you set up an account with a description and photos of your wares. You then surf around and see what's up for sale and some of the stuff is old news (been around for a while) while other stuff is new and interesting because you didn't know it existed.

And when you find something that has piqued your interest, you think about if that's something you want or actually need. Maybe you make a bid (send them a message) depending on the seller's feedback from buyers (how many people have them on their 'favourite's' list), watch the auction for a while (exchange messages) and sometimes you close a deal (aka meet) and sometimes not.

Somehow, like real eBay though, the auction seems more exciting than when you get the item home (or in this case on a date - or maybe even home if it goes really well and copious amounts of alcohol were consumed to 'cut the tension'). Not that there's really buyers remorse, just a 'oh...seemed more interesting when I was 'fighting for it'' (read: the chase).

Well that's not entirely true, I have had one or two buyer's remorse moments or else the WHMPC wouldn't be around to entertain you. But those are just ones to laugh over with friends and appall my married/otherwise attached friends with the 'horror stories of dating' tales. ;o)

Wow - as if...

I have lived 20+10 years on this fabulous Earth and have only today, for the first time ever, seen...

a rat.

I'd like to say he was as cute as this gaffer (below) but he wasn't. He wasn't as scary grey either. In fact, I mistook him for a squirrel with a weird tail. And then a really big mouse. And then I realized it was a rat. Thank god it scuttled across my path at work - or else I'd be really grossed out.

WHMPC - Museum Mike aka Badminton Boy

Back in March I signed up for the online dating thing. The reason I did is I saw a cutie on the site that I thought I'd want to get to know more and he was the 'push me over the edge' factor after hearing about Big Oil's awesome date and the fact that M was also on.

Museum Mike (or Badminton Boy as he will also come to be known) and I exchanged a few emails and then met at the War Museum one quiet Saturday afternoon. The afternoon was pleasant enough - we went through the exhibits, enjoyed pleasant conversation, we generally comfortable around each other both on an intellectual perspective and on a physical one. But he seemed rather shy. As my second real 'date' after being single, I didn't really know what to expect but couldn't gauge if he was interested or not. We had somewhat agreed that if he was interested, he'd join me for badminton the following week - a bit of an effort considering he had to book time off of work to do so.

Thursday's badminton date came and I met him at the school we play at. A bit of a step, seeing as how he's meeting the crew I've played with for 6 months at that point but he seemed okay. We stood outside talking for a bit and then went inside. During those conversations, they seemed a little strained and I again sensed some nervousness.

We played doubles. And we sucked at it. While I want to blame it on the fact that he hasn't played for a few years, part of my inner subconscious screamed about the fact that if we can't get it together on the court, we're not going to be able to get it together off - if you catch my drift. And yes, I have been watching too much Sex and the City lately.

Our between game chatters were also a little...strained. And then when we were all going out for drinks after and he decided to go home instead (yes, dear sweaty friends, maybe he just wanted a shower, blah blah blah excuse). And that's when it hit me.

I'm a bit of a chatterbox. I KNOW - such a REVEL-ATION! And I know you're all laughing about this at your desks or wherever else you're procrastinating from life and reading my blog. But really, if after how many hours together, MM/BB can't get it together enough to have the conversation easily flow with me, chatterbox extraordinare, well it just may not ever.

And on to the next...

I did hear from him a few times after that but I think we both knew it wasn't going to go anywhere. He has since cancelled his online account. I hope it means that he's found love because, of all the WHMPC dates, he was one of the good guys even if he wasn't the good guy for me.

My palms get sweaty

There are very few things I get nervous over. Give me a boardroom of critical people to make a presentation to? No problem. Go on a blind date? Bring it on. Attend Employee Recognition day where it's a fair like setting with a BBQ, games and mingling with colleagues?

I'd rather poke my eye out with a hot poker.

I'm not sure what it is. I'm not big on those kinds of social events. I hate parties. I hate even big dinner parties with friends. I have to get psyched up to go to networking functions for work. So the idea of hanging out with my fellow colleagues and 'having fun all afternoon' - please kill me now. I've successfully avoided this event for 3 years running. And sometimes, I've even foregone the 'gift' that they give employees at this event because of it. Free backpack and have to go or stay in my office and work. Hmmm...let's see. Stay in my office of course!

Really, it's that I'm an introvert in extrovert's clothing as I like to say. While my job requires me to be 'on' I'm really a solitary creature who prefers a lot of alone time. My most favourite thing to do on a Friday night is to stay in with take out and watch a movie. My favourite birthday pastime? Spending it alone doing whatever comes to mind - shopping, reading in a coffee shop, even doing laundry. So the idea of forced merriment and forced gatherings of large groups of people. Incredibly painful and awkward. I know the introverts understand and for those extroverts out there, when you couldn't possibly imagine a night home alone or missing a party or outing, it's the exact same feeling in reverse.

I have a feeling though that my sorry butt will get dragged this year. I'll try and think of it as broadening my horizons when every moment will be spent agonizing on the inside.

Now, I'm 'new' to this dating scene but...

The online dating world is a mysterious thing. I'm amazed at the number of men that contact women. I like to not be pessimistic and think it's because they are actually interested in us in more than a getting into our pants sense, but I'm also realistic. So when my messages from new suitors started slowing down a few weeks ago, I decided it was time to stop wishing the ones I thought were cute and funny would contact me and just contact them first. Because I have cojones plenty of alcohol to drink when rejected cojones.

So off into the cyber-abyss I sent my two messages. And whadda ya know?!? Two came back replied to - with positive responses! I'm awesome! In reality, this is not where I tell you about the ones that go out into the abyss and then get marked 'read-deleted' - I save those stories for Jack Daniels when my cojones have been emotionally wounded. ;o)

A few email exchanges back and forth with one and he asks me to go for a walk with him some time this week (there was conversations about spending time outside in our exchanges). I say sure and provide options of Wednesday (short notice), Saturday or Sunday before 4:30 (if anything the date with the Dial Tone taught me, don't give up your regular life for a date - it's probably NOT going to be worth it especially if it's competing with playing softball).

This is the message I get back from him:

Wednesday I'm going to Absolute Comedy. Saturday or Sunday before 4:30 p.m. is perfect. I just invited someone to do something on Saturday afternoon so let's say Sunday. If the person says no for Saturday, I'll ask you to go on Saturday instead. Is that cool?

I don't want to sound callous, but WTF? I'm your Saturday backup plans? I feel like saying 'I ain't nobody's backup plans!' with a snapping finger in a total 'oh no you didn't!' way. Kinda like this kid:



So, am I just being oversensitive? Is this guy a bit of a dork? Is it just a mis-cybercommunication? Thoughts? I need to reply before Saturday - or Sunday, depending on his schedule I guess. LOL!

Epilogue: I said 'sure, sounds like a plan' and then he messaged back saying his Saturday plans were confirmed. Another Sunday morning coffee date. WOOT WOOT! Let's hope it's NOT reminiscent of the Dial Tone.

Overheard in 421

Gback started his new job today in the cube fort beside mine in our office suite. It's a good thing, his starting this new position as it'll give me a backup, but I have a feeling know that it will add more work to my plate. We get along well so it should be a good team. (BTW, did I mention he reads this so it has to be 'edited' now when I speak ill of work?).

As we haven't had many WOP entries lately, I figured I'd share with you our convos over the fortress walls.

Gback: (as he pops a Sweet Tart in his mouth) I shouldn't even be eating these
L: Whatever. They're made of pure sugar. You'll just pee it out.

*insert giggling like little school girls*

Gback: Somebody's already had too many.

*insert more giggles*

Yeah, we're going to be one formidable team, us two.