Let's see...

Had a very boring day today and school could not be over soon enough. So I came home and took a nap. Due to the unseasonably warm weather, the beloved crickets are back AGAIN. Suffice to say, I did not sleep well last night. But I didn't actually SEE crickets until this morning. Perhaps a part of me just knew they were lurking about? My lack of sleep may also have had to do with one or more of the following (I love bulleted lists):

- Ditched The Brit YET AGAIN and was feeling some pangs of guilt & possible remorse
- Ate dinner way too late and drank way too much wine for a weeknight
- The pumpkin spice latte I drank after the late dinner was not decaffeinated (as I was drunk and forgot to specify)
- It was really really hot in my cricket-infested lair, forcing me to shed layers of clothing throughout the night
- Waking up at one point and realizing I was naked
- The sad reality of being sweaty and naked in bed. Alone.

Ta.

As a result of P.McQ's "Lax-O-Tea", last night I expelled the biggest, foulest and most hideous demon known to man. It was inhuman. I think things came out of me that had been inside of me for a long time. In fact, I'm sure I saw a bit of the cake from my 13th birthday party. My abs hurt today. From shitting. That is not normal.

And just in case I haven't COMPLETELY made you sick just yet, let me describe the odor...

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
Great day all around. Went for a run, watched some parade, helped cook food, helped eat food, drank lots of wine and finished the day with a viewing of Harry Potter IV.

I am thankful for good family, good friends, and a damn good life. Happy Holidays, all.

NOTE TO MY DEAR FRIEND P.McQ:
If you happen to be reading this blog to keep tabs on whether or not I am lying to you in regards to The Brit, I will say only this... "lying" is a very harsh word.

I prefer to think of it as "omitting information which might otherwise cause you to:
A) Question my better judgement
B) Question any shred of respect you might have left for me
C) Vomit all over your computer screen"

My life is fucked up. I prefer it that way. It keep things interesting.
And I love you -- 110%. Know that always.

Amazing weekend. Simply amazing how life can happen and your perspective can change in a heartbeat.

Was a good (long) ride down to Bethesda on Friday. Mom mapped the ultra-scenic route which took us down most of the Appalachian trail, through Rocky Mountain National Park, the Everglades and past Mt. Rushmore. Right to Bethesda, MD. Cause she hates the Jersey Turnpike. But I won't go there. Roadtrips with Mom are worthy of an entire blog unto itself.

We got in Friday evening - stayed at a beautiful Hyatt - and had a great dinner. After 2 glasses of wine, I got sappy and nostalgic (as I often do) Ended up texting "The Ex" (shall we call him The Brit? He's a Brit. It seems fitting) was just wondering what he was up to. He was in the middle of a horrible date. We both seemingly are having our shares of those. After a few texts back and forth, culminating in a heated discussion, I shut my phone off and Mom and I pay-per-viewed "The 40-Year Old Virgin" -- damn funny movie!

I got up Saturday morning and hit the hotel fitness room. Apparently when gyms upgrade and throw out their old weight machines, they are snapped up by hotels for their fitness rooms. Some of these dinosaur contraptions looked like torture devices. All kinds of miscellaneaous straps and cables. Quite eerie, actually. But I made do. After 6+ hours in the car and a huge dinner the previous night, something physical needed to be done.

I spent the early afternoon wandering the streets of Bethesda. It's actually a really nice city. Very new and clean, and far enough south that the people are a whole lot nicer than here. The seminar was at 2:00. There were about twelve other people there as well as the presenter and her husband. I learned a lot about the program. I also learned a lot about ME and the fact that I REEEEEALLY WANNA DO THIS!!! So I am gonna see where it goes. All my shit's in - profile's complete - and today I got my invite to the very big, very important Recruitment Fair in Boston (February) More on all that as it unfolds.

We left after the seminar and got home (via the NJ Tpk) in about 4 hours. My pining heart led me to call The Brit. I went over to the house we once shared and we spent some time together. We saw each other again yesterday (after my 4-hour "Evil-Coffee-Empire" Community Outreach venture: planting bulbs, raking, and painting the local library). Had dinner and saw "Pride & Prejudice" -- HOLY CRAP what an excellent film! And the soundtrack... I say again, HOLY KEE-RAP! Loved it. Completely.

Had good speaks with The Brit. He knows where my heart is and what I want to do. He knows I am going to pursue this teaching overseas thing. I know he wants to find a wife and build a life together. We are in a no-win situation. Yet, there is so much love there. So we're doing this: spending time with one another. No expectations. I say, keep up your hunt - if you find someone you want to pursue, I will not stand in your way. But know that this is just for now - it's all it can be. And the thing is, KNOWING that is making it so much more passionate. Is this weird/wrong/possible/stupid/crazy/selfish? I don't know. And truthfully, I don't care.

So there.

He's gay. Damn it, I should have known. How did I NOT know? I mean, he's not just "a little gay". No, he's BIG, ALL-OUT, FLAMING QUEENIE gay. "Hellooo Frisco" gay. Oh well. At least the coffee is free.

Tomorrow I am leaving for Bethesda, MD. A road trip with my Mom. It's been years since we've road-tripped. And I think that by the time I get back - either Saturday night or Sunday morning - I will remember all too clearly just WHY it's been years. *Sigh* Ah well.

I am hoping things pan out there. Hoping for a little more info, a little more direction so I can remove myself from this limbo in which I have been flailing miserably about. I need change. Change is good.

So many exciting things going on these days...FINALLY! But how the hell is it Thursday already? Does time just go faster once you've hit 30? Yes, I am thirty. I can say that now. And I can even type it. 30. T-H-I-R-T-Y.

First of all, I had my third date last night with Sweet&Wholesome Jason (who will hence forth be known only as "S&W". Not to be confused with S&M) Do men like him actually exist? I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. To find out he is a bigomist with 4 other wives in this state alone. Or that he spends weekends molesting orphans with cystic fibrosis. Because people as nice as him cannot possibly be real. And if they are, I most definitely have never had access to such creatures.

In short, the date went well. Even concluded with a simple kiss - at my car - under an umbrella - in the pouring rain. [Insert sweeping violin passage here]

Tomorrow I am leaving for a workshop in Bethesda, MD. I am considering the possibility of taking a hiatus (from my real job) and spending a year abroad. More info on that as it unfolds, as I am still very much in the dark about it all.

And finally, you must know that after 4:00 PM today, I will be an official "Barista" for the local "Evil-Coffee-Empire" (hence forth referred to as "ECE") a part-time, holiday job I've decided to take - not for the money (because God knows, it ain't gonna be much) - but mostly because the general manager is a hottie.

I am such a loser.

Dear God am I tired today. My body feels like it's 89-years old. Why am I so tired? I feel like my veins are full of sand. I'm a giant sandbag.

I met a nice guy last night for coffee at the local B&N. Cute - beautiful eyes. Very tidy. He's a "P.A." which I learned is a Physicians's Assistant (I think?) Like a doctor without the degree. He also teaches courses at a local university. Very neat to talk to, someone I definitley would not have met unless I was doing this internet dating thing. Though I must admit, I am still partial to the Sweet&Wholesome Jason. Will be seeing him tonight for dinner & a movie.

It's funny... I was a bit of a prude growing up. But for the right reasons, I think. I didn't wanna hook up for the sake of hooking up. Would you believe I was 24 when I finally lost my virginity? I wouldn't change a thing, it was a great experience. Since then, I've certainly shed my prudish ways and done my share of hooking up.

Recently (though maybe not too recently) I discovered that, while it's okay now and then, I could certainly live without sex. For me it's more of a hassle than anything. Yeah, it's fun in the beginning. But halfway through, I start getting bored and my mind tends to wander... "What should I eat for breakfast tomorrow? Did I wash the pants I was planning to wear? How do airplanes stay in the sky?" Right. ADD rocks.

Then it's finally over and there's the whole "cuddle process" to endure. What happened to the guys who just got up and left? Why do I always seem to find the ones who get all cutesy and lovey? I say, just get dressed and get out so I can clean up and go to sleep. Perhaps I am a man trapped in a woman's body. Maybe a gay man.

What got me on this rant? Oh right - Sweet&Wholesome Jason. He has not tried to kiss me yet. Tonight is our third date. My past experiences indicate this should be the Sex Date. I can't imagine things taking that drastic a turn. But perhaps I'll get a kiss. That wouldn't be too bad at all.

Shall we talk terrorists for a moment?

I spent a good portion of last evening laundering up my bedding. It had been days since I had last seen a cricket, and I was hopeful that the exterminators had done a solid job. They said it might take a few days to be free and clear. So I was all ready to move back to my brandy-spanking new bed.

I washed the sheets, took the quilt to the laundromat. Had even bought sparkly new detergent and fluffy fabric softener sheets. Everything was clean, dry and folded. And as I brought the last of it down to my grotto to set up my Dream Palace, guess what I find - smack dab in the middle of my bed?

Yes. Square in the middle of the bed, its green-striped body a stark contrast to my virginal (ha!) let's say "white" mattress pad. The antennae twitched, its shoulders pulsing ever so slightly with each plotting breath (alright, so crickets don't HAVE shoulders - and they probably don't breathe either - but endulge me here, okay?).

The battle was fierce. In the end, there was just one victor: my slipper. Mine enemy was reduced to a gooey blob of legs, smeared across the bottom of my Eddie Bauer suede shearlings. And once again, I retreated north to the guest room, my sad pile of clean bedding a reminder of the looming fear.

We never know when they'll strike. We don't know where they come from, where they hide. And in the war against terror. is there ever clearly a winner?

Just had a fine remembery from last evening's date with Junior Gorg...

We somehow got on the topic of turtles. He disclosed to me that he currently has three pet turtles - the miniature kind that you get in Chinatown. He proceeeded to tell me about his pet snapping turtles from a few years back.

Apparently, there were two regular-sized snappers and one runt. The two regular-sized ones were not very kind to the runt. I guess they picked on him, wouldn't let him join in any of the snapping turtle games. And then they went as far as biting off his tail before Junior moved Runt to its own little bucket. One day, Junior went away on a trip and when he returned, he found that a window in his living room had somehow been broken and the heating lamp for the two regular-sized turtles had been broken. And on top of that, due to the broken window, a wintery blast had been assaulting the two snappers for several days on end. Needless to say, the two regular-sized turtles met their frosty demise. And Runt lived to tell the tale.

But wait... it gets even better.

Years later, Junior took Runt to the vet. "You see," he told me, "turtles have holes. Male and female. And all of their functions take place from these holes." It seems as though Runt was very well-endowed. And when male turtles get aroused, their little turtle willies poke out from the hole. But Runt's got stuck in the OUT position. And so he couldn't poop.

Junior took him to the vet for an enema and penisectomy. Mercifully, Runt did not survive the procedure - he passed away from the anesthesia. Junior asked the vet for the turtle's remains. And he has had them for the past five years. In his freezer. Where they await their Viking funeral.

I could not make this up if I tried.

This was the Weekend of Plentiful Dates. I've been registered with an online dating service for the past few weeks. I probably should have learned my lesson from the LAST time I did the online dating thing. "Remember? You ended up spending 2 years and LOTS of money on a mess of a man." But c'mon, there were a lot of good times too. Hence, my getting back on the horse and giving it another go.

It started with Bankrupt Rick, whom I met during the first week. He was witty as hell, as cute as Tom Hulce in "Amadeus" and a complete and utter mess. Recovering drug addict & former stand-up comic who had returned from a 5-year stint in LA to move back home with Mom & Dad (who am I to judge?) Obnoxious, dangerous, and amazing in bed. He was my rebound boy. Short-lived, but necessary. I think of him as the dish of sherbet: after the heavy meal and to cleanse the palette. Bad news - not much potential - and I just got OUT of a situation like that.

After Bankrupt Rick came Boring Rich, Quiet Tom and Auschwitz James. I was growing very disenchanted by it all, to say the least. Finally, this Friday night I met Adorable, Wholesome and Awesome Jason. He is a self-sufficient, good-natured outdoorsman. He owns a house in which he is fixing up the kitchen. He has a steady, well-paying job. He has a beautiful truck, is into mountainbiking & kayaking. He is funny. He is CUTE! We had dinner Friday night and stayed out past midnight talking. He didn't even try to kiss me goodnight.

Today, Jason and I went mountainbiking. He picked me up in his nice truck and we rode 22 miles, chatting the whole way. We stopped and had lunch on the way home. He even e-mailed and asked to see me again during the week. Yes, I like Jason.

What I neglected to cancel was the date I had made for this evening with "Junior".

We met at a restaurant and my first impression was that he looked like Junior Gorg from "Fraggle Rock". Apparently, I hid my horror well. I figured I'd make the best of things and ordered some wine. Lots of wine. The date was just 2 hours and we chatted along fine. The wine helped keep me talking. I will write some more tomorrow about the gruesome details. But for now, I will try to put it all out of my head. I must sleep.

Last night we had a party for my aunt's 80th birthday. Had some family over that we hadn't seen in years. Why is that? How does it become that people you used to see on a daily basis, you now only see at funerals or landmark events? I guess that's life.

Anyway, these cousins were always thought of as "the RICH cousins". The dad works for a major pharmaceutical company - brewing up cures for cancer and the common cold. The mom uses lots of foundation and hairspray, and gives "air-kisses". And their son is now a big stock guy on Wall Street. But they're nice people. And my aunt was so very happy to see them.

Me, I felt like a big loser. 30 years old, living in my Mom's basement. Sharing a house with my Mom, AND my 80-year old aunt AND my 39-year old brother (did I mention that?) Suffice to say, I spent the majority of the evening in the kitchen, setting/cleaning up - in between glasses of Yellowtail.

Must go shower. Have a date to go mountainbiking today and a dinner date later tonight.

Is is bad to go on a date with a guy you're broken up with? What if you don't hate him? What if you broke up simply because you don't really wanna have to deal with having a boyfriend? Does this make me selfish and evil? I like the fun parts of the relationship: dinners, movies, walks in the park, holding hands and yes - sex. But I could no longer deal with the bullshit. And especially while we were living together...

Worrying about when he'll get his shit together enough to pay the bills. The fact that he was laid off from work back in August and STILL hasn't gotten another job, but is plotting to make his millions on eBay. How very unimportant his relationship with his kids seemed to be. What's weird is: all these things - while in the midst of the relationship - were justifiable. He managed to convince me that these things were all somehow OKAY. And how is it that I - a fairly intelligent human being - could be so blind to it all?

Last night sitting across from him at dinner, hearing his latest "big ideas" (pimping out a van and spending a year driving across country, building his eBay creations out of it and not having to worry about paying bills or rent) combined with his "reality" (owing Ex-Wife #1 over $20,000 in child support arrears, and being threatened with the loss of his passport) it dawned on me that either:

A. I am not as intelligent as I thought, or
B. Love has the power to blind

Possibly a little bit of both. But for the first time, I truly felt a sense of pity for him. And not the usual pity which was more like sympathy - buying into his views of how the world was screwing him. No, this pity was a genuine nature. Of realizing someone is not who you thought they were. And possibly the realization that things truly are over, as now it's all so blatantly obvious. A sadness. A closure.

We finished out the date. Went and had coffee. He told me about some of the miserable dates he's been on since we've split. It wouldn't enter my mind to tell him about the men I've met. It would kill him - he'd stop me and tell me, "I really don't wanna hear this" - although I didn't stop him. I let him tell me these things, knowing he was doing so to try to hurt me - but not feeling hurt by it. Just pity.

We sat through a movie. He held my hand. I'd catch him glancing over at me, reaching out to stroke my hair. I realized that being with him - even as friends - was worse than no contact at all. And writing this out loud, I am saying "Well DUH!" as I know anyone reading this is also saying. I won't be selfish anymore. He deserves to be free.

This is what I am sharing my bed with these days.

Welcome to my hell. I am a Cellar Dweller. It's been nearly 6 months now since I've moved back home to my Mom's basement. Tried the whole "live-in-boyfriend/girlfriend" relationship and failed miserably. Just couldn't get used to the blow torch on the kitchen counter or the soldering iron on the coffee table. Ah, but I guess everyone complains about these things, no?

So here I am: thirty years old and evaluating it all. Shouldn't I be married by now? Living in Suburbia with my 2.5 kids and my Antarctic Blue mini-van? The job's okay - no worries there. Though it does get monotonous. If things go my way, I could end up living abroad next year. The question is... where?

All in good time, my friends. 'Til then, I've got some crickets to party with.