Like, ohmigod!!!

Even though this week's poll question is still officially open, I made the decision (or, actually, YOU made the decision) for what I'm going to be. Which is good, considering my happy hour party is tomorrow (Thursday) nite.

So, Elle Woods here I come. Pink dress? Check. Pink cardigan? Check. Pink heart headband? Check. Pink purse? Check. Tiffany jewelry? Check. Stuffed chihuahua? Check.

Cute ex-boyfriend to chase after to Harvard? No. (But honestly -- Warner was pretty much a douchebag anyhow, and I would never really want to date someone like him in real life.)

However, I wouldn't mind finding a guy like Elle's Emmett. (The character played by Luke Wilson.) As my friend Michele would say... I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers. He was sweet, funny, cute and totally into Elle.

Now let's just hope that guys like Emmett are hanging out at the Bier Markt tomorrow around 7ish. Because if there are... well... BEND... AND... SNAP.

Happy anniversary, sissy!

Two years ago today, my baby sister Jenna got married. My sister Julie was engaged at the time. And I was at the wedding alone after recently breaking up with The Divorcee (for about the 50th time). I literally thought I was going to puke every time I heard someone say, "You're NEXT!" Duh. Jenna's married and Julie has a ring on her finger, you bonehead.

Anyhow, I wish I had discovered this Web site sooner (check it out -- it's HILARIOUS), because I totally would have sent Jenna and Gary this e-card for their big day:

So, instead, I'm sending it today! Happy anniversary, sis.

You give bad phone

What are the chances that someone you have about 3% chemistry with on the phone is going to offer you tons of chemistry in person? I'm struggling a bit with that right now.

Just hung up with The Lawyer. About halfway through the conversation (and probably three or four calls since I met him), I decided he is just sort of goofy. But then I thought that perhaps he just gives bad phone, so I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

We made a date to get together next Wednesday (I am literally booked from now until then). So I thought one more "in person" try would tell me for sure whether he IS goofy, or if he's just bad on the phone.

BUT. THEN. IT. HAPPENED.

He asked if I wanted to go to a "prom" for his law firm. It's black tie. It's the weekend before Molly's wedding. And it might be too late to say no (since I, well, sort of said yes).

I don't know what happened. I thought we were about to hang up, then he sprung this whole prom question on me. I guess maybe I just said yes because I was totally caught off guard!

So now I'm stuck going to an event with someone who I'm certain gives bad phone and may or may not give bad "in person" too. (Recall that I've seen him twice in person... once, when I met him and had far too many gin and tonics to remember anything about him; the other, when we went on the date where he stared at my chestal region.)

I did build in an escape plan once I found out when the event was by telling him that I had promised Molly I would do whatever she needed prior to the wedding. So, I said I needed to check with her before I could totally commit.

What would you do if you were this on the fence and had a black tie invite? I mean, grabbing a pizza and beer is one thing. Meeting his entire firm (that's what she said) at a black tie event is another. Help?!?!?!

Dancing with the Stars: Florida Edition (aka Dancing in the Bars)

Just landed a couple of hours ago from my long weekend trip to Florida with my friend Molly. We had a great time (in spite of the crappy weather for most of the trip), ate a ton of good meals (steak, sushi and seafood dinners) and spent a lot of unanticipated cash (read: we were determined to come back with at least a LITTLE color, so when the weather didn't cooperate we found a tanning salon that did).

And, so as to not disappoint you, we did get one good boy incident out of the weekend.

(I'm not kidding when I say that Molly was on the hunt for a guy just so we could get a blog story out of it.)

We met up with Molly's future bro-in-law's wife's sister (is that confusing enough for you?), who is a super cute 26-year-old girl who lives in Naples. Naturally, we figured Paige would be able to show us a good time, and she did not disappoint.

She met us for a drink on Friday nite, learned about this blog and the finders' fee, then had a bunch of her friends meet up with us later in the nite. That's when I met The Florida Dancing Guy.

He and I actually didn't talk much at the first bar we were at (truth be told, I was convinced he was talking to a transvestite for most of the nite), but something bizarre happened at the second bar.

While "Barefoot Gino" played his one-man band at the back of the second bar (I can't make this stuff up), The Florida Dancing Guy grabbed me, said he loved to dance, told me how sexy I was and pulled me toward the dance floor.

He then proceeded to whip me around Dancing with the Stars style (side note: I am secretly obsessed with that show), accidentally elbow me in the mouth during one of his spin maneuvers, then end our routine with a full-on dip. The only thing missing were the sequins and judging cards.

We ended up hanging out the rest of the nite, he fed me every line in the book and tried his best to make a sleepover happen.

Much to his chagrin, the only person I shared a bed with during the trip was Molls. (Mostly because we only wanted to have one set of sheets to wash when we left, and we are both pretty much the most still/lifeless sleepers you have ever met so it wasn't a big deal to share a king-size bed.)

So while The Florida Dancing Guy probably didn't get what he wanted, Paige got a mention on the blog, I got a good workout on the dance floor and a whole host of folks in Naples now know about the finders' fee.

Fun in the... rain?

I'm heading to Florida this afternoon for a short trip with my friend Molly. YEAH!

It's supposed to rain while we're there. BOO!

(Also BOO: I have to wear a bathing suit next to Molly, who is basically like a Jennifer Aniston body double... maybe minus the top half of the bikini, if you know what I mean. :))

I'm guessing there will be some good nasty old men stories to write about when I get home. Molly and I always seem to meet randoms when we're together, so I'm imagining this trip won't be any different. And it's not like there are likely to be a lot of young, hot, single guys milling around Bonita Springs.

Coming on the heels of me being hit on by a grampa at a "special persons" day for my friend's daughter's preschool, I may be on to something. I've never really explored the octogenarian age set. This may open up a whole new world of dating to me!

Will write again soon!

Praying for my love life... literally

My parents have arrived home safe and sound after their Mediterranean adventure (so jeal!), and I just caught up with them to get a debrief about some of their favorite parts of the trip. They visited our extended family in Milan for a few days, then headed to other parts of Italy, Greece and Croatia on a cruise.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that my dad was very excited to tell me about a church they visited in Italy devoted to St. Nicholas. While you may know St. Nicholas as our modern-day Santa Claus, he's also apparently the patron saint of single women. Who knew?

Dad informed me that there was a box in the church where single women could place the name of someone they hoped to land as their future husband. Of course, dear old dad wrote down something about me and put it in the box.

I'm imagining it went something like this:

Dear Saint Nicholas --

Please bring my daughter a Christmas present in the form of a tall, dark and handsome man. Who has a good job. And can finally take her off my hands.

Thanks,
Always a Bridesmaid's Dad

After I talked to my dad, I briefly chatted with my mom (poor thing -- she sounded exhausted!!) and she told me that they brought a little souvenir home for me. Wonder what his name is.

****UPDATE****UPDATE****UPDATE****

St. Nicholas works FAST! I literally hit "publish post" on this entry and got a text five minutes later from The Banker that just said "I miss talking about shows with ya." WTF? He was the one who stopped calling me (albeit after I not-so-nicely told him that he should give a girl a little notice if he had to cancel plans). Weird timing? Or saints at work? Hmmm... only time will tell.

I'm not censoring...

... I'm protecting. The random boys in my life, that is.

That's why your blog comments don't automatically appear when you submit them.

I'm OK'ing all blog comments before they're published so none of the guys' real names get accidentally published here. (It did happen once, but those comments have since been deleted.)

Here's the rule: as long as no one's name is mentioned, I'll publish what you submit (even if you say you think I'm crazy for checking out a guy's wrist for a watch or telling me I'm judging someone too quickly).

That said... please keep the comments coming!! Just be sure to protect the anonymity of the innocent... and the guilty.

(But that doesn't mean you can't say something negative about the losers -- just use their fake names.)