Thursday, April 30, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Aaaaaand here is the photographic evidence of the overalls guy I told you about:
Note the guy on the left's "summer teeth" (one of bloggrampa's favorite phrases, rest his soul -- as in, "summer here, summer there"), pube-a-'do goatee, wife beater and nose ring. Note the man in the background's scary arm tats. Note how proud overalls guy is of said overalls ("Hey, man. Check out my dungarees!")
Aaaaaand here is photographic proof that everyone in Findlay has either furry hair, a mullet or a mustache (and, sometimes, all three):
Note that my friend (in the white) is the only person in this picture with a full set of teeth. What you can't see is that the lead singer (shown here sporting jean shorts, a.k.a. "jorts") is barefoot. Sick. And, yes. That person in the orange plaid is a woman.
So, my friends, is it any wonder that I didn't have much luck finding love while on the road this weekend? Here's hoping this coming weekend brings better prospects. With better fashion sense. Or at least a full set of teeth.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
- A friend of ours announcing to the bride-to-be's future mother-in-law that she was a "very sensual girl" (this same friend also asked my friend if she takes baths with her fiancee... in front of her mother)
- Seeing men at the bar wearing honest-to-goodness denim overalls (similar to the ones I wore circa 1995 in college)
- Walking in on a girl from the party taking a BM at the first bar we were at (umm, lock the door, please)
- 2o minutes later, seeing another friend's hoo-hah when the door swung open as she was going to the bathroom
- Forcing our friend Shannon to make a cake for us so we could eat it after hours (there's no Panini's in Findlay, kids)
- My friend Nikki gorging on leftover shrimp cocktail late nite, deciding that she was going to "melt a tub of butter and eat it like it's lobster" (actually, we were all grateful that she didn't try to use the fruit-flavored sex lube "Dick Tasty" that she had given to the bachelorette earlier that nite)
Aaaaaand, yet another ridiculous bachelorette party under my belt. And you would be so proud of me. I did not give my number out to any chefs or lawyers. (In fact, I'm not sure there even are any chefs or lawyers in Findlay.) I didn't do the robot. I didn't even black out (even though I was drinking blackout and tonics).
OMG, am I actually growing up? Say it ain't so!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
- Hairdresser. You know how I love a well-groomed (read: metrosexual) man. And most of the guys I have dated go to a hairdresser at a nice salon (vs. the barber down the street). So, it stands to reason that working as a hairdresser would be a great way to guarantee at least 30 minutes every few weeks with the same cute guy. I could get to know him over the course of a couple of months, then go in for the kill. (Which is probably the wrong phrase to use if I am going to be working with very sharp scissors. But you know what I mean.) Plus, I'd probably get to work with lots of my second-fave type of guy: gays! (Maybe I could double down and find a SO for Brissy there too!)
- Tailor. It's not often that putting your hand in someone's crotch is encouraged, but tailors do it every day. And, despite the fact that I can't really sew (unlike the hairdresser idea, which I actually think I'd be pretty good at), maybe I could be an "apprentice" or something. Or just the official measurer chic. If a guy was especially cute and nice (and funny! don't forget funny!), I could slip a little note in his pocket with my number on it for him to find when he got home.
But, I can't really think of any good ones beyond those. (Bartending is out. I am way over the bar scene, so there's no way I'd subject myself to that.)
What other professions would be primo for a single gal looking for love?
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
I must admit that I was really very flattered when the editor of IHC asked me to do a guest post because I love that blog as much as I love saying That's What She Said.
(OK, almost as much as I love saying TWSS.)
Check out my suggested places to find and/or court a potential mate, and please let me know other places I should check out!
P.S. If you don't already regularly read IHC, you should. It's the best collection of "sassy things to see, taste and do in the place we call home" that I've found. Subscribe!
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
- I wouldn't ever have to apologize for playing Britney Spears music. In fact, it would be encouraged. (It certainly was last nite.)
- I would have someone to learn all the dance routines from music videos with. (Fun!)
- There would be no shortage of one-liners to keep me entertained. Example (when discussing blogdad's attempt to grow his hair out like Richard Gere circa Pretty Woman): "More like Richard Queer!" (Actual words spoken by Brissy.)
- I wouldn't have to plan all of the fun outings/dates. Brissy's friends had that stuff taken care of last nite. From the free shuttle bus and passes for the strip club to the hailing of a cab for sissy and me when we were beat (the boys were still partying), we didn't have to worry about a thing. (Other than our crazy cab driver on the way home.)
- I would be guaranteed affection without the expectation of anything more. (I lost track of the number of hugs and back rubs I got last nite.)
- I'd never have to worry if he was going to potentially embarrass me by pulling out some old-school oversized rugby or other horrendous article of clothing. And even if he did wear a rugby, I'm certain it would be the right size. (And designer.)
I suppose there would be some downsides too (like, the fact that he'd likely be more romantically interested in my brothers-in-law than me). *SIGH*
But in theory, I'm sort of really liking the GBF (gay boyfriend) idea. Now if I could just find a gay straight guy...
Friday, April 17, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The only good thing about the whole taxes process is that I'm actually getting a decent return this year, which will probably be spent on this.
(And by "probably," I mean "will." But don't worry -- there's still enough left over to make good on the finders' fee! So get crackin', peeps.)
Monday, April 13, 2009
- ORLANDO BLOOM -- cute. 'nuff said. (I don't even mind the long scruffy hair.)
- JOHNNY DEPP -- cute. 'nuff said. (Plus, you could always borrow his eyeliner if you ran out.)
- LONG JOHN SILVER -- fried food. 'nuff said. (Though I'm not sure the technical pirate version is also tied to the fast food chain. But a girl can dream, can't she?)
- JOSH DUHAMEL -- ok, so he's never technically played a pirate in any movies or TV shows. But he's so yummy, can't you forgive that one little issue?
Sunday, April 12, 2009
- Helping my cousin's daughter prepare for her upcoming First Communion by practicing with jelly beans. Since she had the standard procedure down, we added levels of difficulty as we went along, including having her accept the jelly beans with her elbows touching and making her point her toe like she was a QVC model while saying "Amen."
- Making inappropriate "that's what she said" jokes all day with Brissy and my parents. (In case you didn't notice, I gave up saying TWSS for Lent. Man, that was hard. TWSS. Yessss!!!) My fave was when we TWSS'd blogparents' friend after she said the following about our homemade wedding soup: "Mmm. I love these little balls."
- Brissy reminding me of last Easter, when blogmom emerged from her room wearing some sort of zebra-print swing coat and the name "Tacky Onassis" was born. (I wish I were as witty as that damn bitch. He's so funny.)
And, in between all of the holiday craziness, we saw a preview of the newest reality show coming out this week: The Cougar. Have you seen this stuff? WTF is television coming to?
(Don't get me wrong. I'll probably watch at least one episode.)
So then the discussion ensued... what's your definition of a "cougar"?
P.S. Thanks to Dolce, who gave me a blogger award last Friday. Fun! I haven't had a chance to think about what I'm going to write yet, so go check out her blog in the meantime. Thanks again, Dolce!