Hiatus-y

Sorry I've been so quiet, but I've been doing exactly what I should be doing right now: studying my little butt off. Hopefully, my last-minute cramming will be enough to squeak me by the minimum requirement and I will never have to go through this particular brain-draining anxiety again.

In a mini-update on semi-news on boys: I saw The Fan again on Sunday and while he sends all sorts of interested signals, he hasn't yet asked for my phone number. I'm not sure if it's shyness or not. I may have neglected to mention that I may have accidentally kissed The Fan in the middle of the bar last weekend when I was at the height of my mimosa-initiated euphoria - so maybe he's waiting for me to make-out with him as a signal? I don't know, but as I'm (hopefully) just barely going to be back on the market on Thursday, I'm not going to stress about it at all. The Kiwi text messaged me a bunch of times last week, but I haven't heard from him in a couple of days. Regardless I'll see him next Sunday during the Broncos game, so again - no stressing, lots of we'll-see'ing.

I'm going to be similarly quiet for the rest of this week, so please bear with me. After what I hope to be a triumphant performance on Thursday, you can expect me back in full force. Or you can expect a long, tearful tirade about the evils of testing bureaucracies. Cross your fingers!

Lyrics of the Day

"Don't worry your mind when you give it your best; one-two, one-two, this is just a test." Beastie Boys Just a Test

Countdown

It is approximately 75 minutes until I get to leave work for the long holiday weekend.

It is approximately 13 hours until I drag myself out of bed to drive 5 hours north to San Luis Obispo, CA for Thanksgiving dinner with my fabulous family.

It is approximately 3.5 days until the next round of debauchery while watching football at Barney's Beanery.

It is approximately 1 week and 1 day until I have to take the ULTRA-SCARY second part of my certification exam.

And, fate (and I guess the horrible amounts of cramming that I'm going to have to do this weekend) willing, it is approximately 1 week, 1 day and 2 hours until I am officially able to put my fine ass back on the dating market. I think I'm ready for it. Even if nothing comes of it (again), even if all I meet are actors, even if I'm doomed for bad date after bad date, I'm ready to get back out there.

Lyrics of the Day

"Twenty, twenty, twenty-four hours to go. I wanna be sedated." The Ramones I Wanna Be Sedated

Simply Irresistible

It turns out that all it takes to become the most popular girl at Sunday football is a minor eye infection and a seriously congestive head cold.

I know this sounds weird, and believe you me - I'm more baffled than you are.

Yesterday The Sister, Red and I went to Barney's along with The Sis's friend. I developed this horrific head cold over the weekend and was trying to ignore it and enjoy my day. Irish showed up again this week, and this time he had the balls to actually come over and join the Redskins corner. I said hi in a cordial sort of way and would have been up for talking to him, but he didn't attempt to engage me in any sort of way. He mostly sat in the corner and watched the game, hardly participating and looking kind of sulky. I almost felt guilty. Almost. (Hey, I'm not the one that did the dumping.)

Somewhere near the end of the game (which we lost, very depressingly to a terrible team), I was pretty drunk (those mimosas just sneak up on me!) and I ended up somehow picking up another Redskins fan, someone I had met once or twice before. Then a bunch of us packed up and headed over to Big Wangs and The Fan said he would meet us there later during the Broncos game.

After the Broncos game started (and after I had started to sober-up, since I didn't have any more alcoholic beverages after leaving Barney's), I ended up talking to a cute Broncos fan from New Zealand who had met my friends there last week. Somehow my hoarse, phlegmy voice and my eyeglasses must have been an aphrodisiac - he started hitting on me quite blatantly by halftime. The Kiwi is cute though, so I wasn't discouraging him.

Then, The Fan shows up and I'm sitting there caught between two guys. I didn't really want to choose one on the spot and I didn't want to eliminate either from the possibility of future interaction, so I basically just tried to play it cool with both of them. I'm sure they had to have known what was going on - but maybe that was half the reason that they were both so interested - nothing's more entertaining than a little competition and heck - we are football fans here.

The funny thing is, all of this is going on with The Kid sitting right behind me.

He made a couple of attempts to get my attention and to see if he could get me to drool on him again this weekend, but I had already decided that I'm done with him and his actor-y ways. (By the way, I decided this weekend that "Actor" is a new derogatory slang term, as in: "I can't believe that guy just cut me off! What an actor!" It works surprisingly well.)

I seemed to have gotten away with flirting with both The Fan and The Kiwi all evening, and I thought I was doing pretty well in pulling off saying goodbye to both of them. I said farewell to The Kiwi and then we hung around for a couple more moments, after which I was saying goodbye to The Fan. I was mid-hug (you can't make out when you've got a nasty cold, darn it) when The Kiwi reappeared. I was left there, alone, between the two guys that had been hitting on me all night. It was quite awkward.

I gave The Kiwi my number and I told The Fan that I would see him at Barney's next Sunday. Phew! It was a lot of attention to receive in one day (and I didn't even get into the table of pretty cute Chargers fans that I was also flirting with - I'm such a hussy!).

Of course, I can't go out with anyone until after I take my test, but now at least I have the opportunity to scratch that itch that I was talking about.

Lyrics of the Day

"I know everybody here wants you. I know everybody here thinks he needs you." Jeff Buckley Everybody Here Wants You

Stagnation

I am romantically stagnant. There is so little going on in my love life right now that I almost feel like a fraud just for trying to post this week.

After all of my worrying and thinking and anticipating about what might happen with The Kid on Sunday, nothing at all happened. It turned out that he was working in Venice all day long and even though we talked that evening (during the later of the NINE HOURS I spent watching football at the bar), he had no intention of driving back into Hollywood (even though he lives over here). It seems to me that he runs really hot and cold. When I'm acting uninterested or wary, he's all over me, but when I'm interested he's backing off. That spells only one word in my little head: T-R-O-U-B-L-E. And you know what I don't need in my life? T-R-O-U-B-L-E. So I'm giving up that ghost and letting The Kid sniff around some other fire hydrant. This one is Out Of Service.

Today I officially scheduled my second test and I'm going to take it two weeks from today. Hopefully as of November 30 I will be certified in my profession and ready to jump right back into the dating scene. Cross your fingers for me!

Lyrics of the Day

"You may feel alone when you're falling asleep and every time tears roll down your cheeks, but I know your heart belongs to someone you've yet to meet." Death Cab for Cutie Someday You Will Be Loved

Victory?

When Irish was breaking up with me (a term I use loosely, as we were never really together enough for me to be broken up with) I asked him, semi-joking, who was going to get custody of Barney's Beanery. I knew that, as Redskins fans, it was inevitable that we run into each other there - especially because that's how we met in the first place.

He said that it didn't matter, that we should still remain friends (after all, we had so much in common) and that we could both still frequent Barney's. But he definitely wasn't giving it up, since he had nowhere else to go, and I had Big Wangs (my other sports bar).

The first week after our dating fiasco, I went to Wangs. There was no way I was risking running into him.

The next week, the Redskins weren't playing. The following week (last week, after Red's birthday) he was out of town.

Bu this week, he showed up. We were barely into the first quarter when The Sister said, "Crap, here comes Irish."

I don't know if he knew she had spotted him or not (I had my back turned, and there was no way I was going to try to see him), but he didn't come over to the Redskins corner of the bar.

We were there, through the entire game: cheering, jeering, yelling and screaming, and for the times that The Sis could see him, he remained in a back corner - watching the game in isolation.

I felt like this was a small victory. As if - even though he was the one to break it off, to reject me - I won by not being afraid to go to my favorite sports bar. Like I stood up to him, in a way that I couldn't that night that he was telling me that it would never work, and I held my ground. He retreated, and I gained a grim satisfaction from that fact. And I just got my hair cut, so I looked damn good doing it.

Lyrics of the Day

"And you will say that you're making headway, and put it in overdrive. But you're mistaking speed for getting what you need and never even noticing you never do arrive." Aimee Mann Driving Sideways

Oh Boy

Tonight, I resolved to sit at home and study physics. Ick. But I was doing it, I really was. I was spending my Friday night re-learning algorithms and reflected incidence coefficients and the importance of the spatial pulse length. That was right before my phone rang. It was The Kid (I am newly dubbing him this). The Kid from the party that danced with me as I tried to leave, The Kid from Monday Night Football at my house who I was nearly cuddling with by the end of the evening. The Kid who is both younger than me and an actor, which is the exact type of guy I am most likely to fall for and who is most likely to crush my heart into a near-liquid pulp.

The Kid who I might have accidentally ended up aggressively hitting on Sunday afternoon, after noticing the ring on the finger of the guy that I thought had been flirting with me all day.

My aggressive flirting with The Kid on Sunday didn't get me anywhere, so I made the natural assumption that he just Wasn't That Into Me. But don't you know? When you ASSUME you make an ASS out of U and ME.

You see, it's The Kid's birthday today, a fact that I completely forgot about until this afternoon, also forgetting that I had told him to call me and let me know if he was doing anything to celebrate it. Well, he is and he called and I had to turn him down.

Now, as I was turning him down, he started being rather flirty. It started with the fact that I would owe him a birthday drink. I said of course, then asked him if he knew where we are watching the Broncos game this weekend. He said he didn't care as long as I was there. I was taken aback for a moment, but recovered swiftly saying, "Of course, so you can get your free drink!" He went on to say that he was hoping for the drink and who knows what else. This is the point at which I started blushing furiously. Thank god that can't be read over the phone. I said, "Oh, wait a second, are you hoping for a little more than just a birthday drink?" Then he said that we should start with a few birthday drinks and see what happens from there.

I know that recounting conversations is incredibly boring, but eventually he ended up saying that he was sad not to have a "beautiful lady" with him on his birthday.

Does this sound like the behavior to expect from someone I was fairly sure (on Sunday at least) had no interest in me?

Lyrics of the Day

"It's a faint, a brief affinity. It's a touch, when it shouldn't be, but it's all right." Maria Taylor One For the Shareholder

The Itch

I honestly didn't think that it would happen so soon, though I knew that it would happen sooner or later. I think it would have been the latter, rather than the former, if it hadn't been for Irish. I think he screwed up the whole rotation, and now here I am.

I am itching to date again.

I don't know if it's the social interaction, or the male attention, or the possibility of romance - but there's definitely something tugging at the back of my mind like a toddler that needs to go to the potty. It's whiny and insistent and may just wet its pants if I don't do something about it soon.

But, you see, the thing is - I can't.

I can't do anything much until I pass my test. It's evil and filled with horribly arcane knowledge that no one (with the exception of bioengineers) actually needs floating around in their head for everyday use. So getting it back into my head (back into the space that it once filled, right after I graduated school, and has since vacated in favor of plotlines for The OC, lyrics to Bonnie Tyler's greatest hits and the names of my favorite NFL players) is taking a little more effort than I thought it would.

But I swear, I swear I am going to pass this test. I am going to do it in the next two weeks (or so, depending on scheduling availability). Then I am going to get out there and get my hot ass back on the market!

Lyrics of the Day

"Won't do no good to sing no love song, no sound could simulate the presence of a man." Fiona Apple Carrion

Something's Queer in SoCal

Driving home from being paged into work VERY early Tuesday morning, I suddenly realized that I needed gas. Fortunately, the cheapest gas station in my half of Los Angeles city proper is almost exactly between work and home and conveniently on the route that I drive.

I got to the station just after 1am and filled up my tank. I was happy, not remembering the last time that I had paid $2.29 for a gallon of gas.

Today, Thursday evening after the mid-term national election, I drove by that wonderfully inexpensive gas station on my way home. I then noticed something a little funny. Not funny-ha-ha, funny-weird.

Gas is now at $2.39 a gallon.

Coincidence?

I think not.

Damn You, Ice Luge!

I have GOT to stop doing this to myself.

Every weekend (well, at least most weekends when I'm not on-call for work), I overbook myself. I plan a thousand things to do with a thousand people, and usually there are more than a few drinks involved. By the time that Sunday evening rolls around, I'm so tired and alcohol'd-out and damn near punchy that I can't even manage to stay awake after the sun goes down.

Then, painfully and abruptly, it's Monday morning.

I can't remember the last time that I wasn't miserable and dragging some serious ass on a Monday morning. Yesterday crawled by in an exhausted haze that left me more frustrated and impatient than I maybe had any right to be.

This weekend was fun, though nothing came even close to panning out for me in the Romance Department, but damn am I still paying for it. The main reason I'm paying for it?

This is an ice luge. You put your mouth at the bottom and try desperately to drink the alcohol that come cascading down without choking to death. This was the insane main attraction at Red's birthday party on Saturday night and it did some serious damage. One of the oh-so-fun side-effects of the ice luge was that it made The Jerk, a guy that Red was dating, decide that it was a fantastic idea to hit on Red's friends, at her own birthday party. Almost needless to say, I did not take the bait and Red is no longer dating The Jerk. It also made Red, The Sister, Red's neighbor and I think it was a great idea to play drinking games at 3 am after drinking all day long. Did I still kick some serious butt playing Asshole? Of course I did!

And, we still got up on Sunday morning when my alarm went off at 8:30 am. There was no way that we were missing the morning Redskins game at Barney's Beanery. What a game that was!

After another full game in the afternoon, an ill-advised trip to Burger King and picking up Red's dog from his babysitter's place, I finally made it home. I was in bed almost immediately.

Last night, I rallied one more time to watch the Monday Night Football game at Red's house. She still has beer left from the party and invited some friends over for the game and to help drink the beer. One of the friends that she invited was pretty cute, and seemed to be showing some interest in me. He's a little older than I usually date (late 30's), but hey, who knows?

The rest of the week is buckle-down time. I would really like to take the second half of my exam soon - possibly next week - and I haven't even begun to prepare in earnest. I'm on-call all week so I'm going to use the time to stay at home and brush up on physics, physics, physics. Blech.

I also managed to soak my camera with water very early on at Red's party, so I'm am sadly photo-less from the event. We took a ton of pics with Red's camera, but I wasn't able to do my Blog-worthy photography. Super-fortunately for me, my camera dried out and is ready to be put back in action.

Lyrics of the Day

"We went down at the May parade, alcohol under my breath. There is something I've been meaning to do, I am dying to tell you." Guster I Spy

Anticipation

I have been sitting around all week, just waiting for the weekend. I am so excited for Red's birthday party tomorrow, I can barely stay in my chair right now. How excited is that exactly, you ask? Well, it's so excited that:

I'm baking cupcakes. I got white and chocolate cake and chocolate frosting and magic re-lighting candles and little candies that spell out happy birthday.

I got the decorations. We're not going overboard, but I got streamers and balloons and confetti. And a big sign that says "Happy Birthday" in colored, foil letters.

I'm getting a pedicure tonight. And I'm shaving my legs tomorrow and straightening my hair. You never do know who you can meet at Red's birthday party. And she is the world's best Wing Woman.

I'm carving a pumpkin. Didn't I already do that, you ask? Well, yes, I did, and here is a picture to prove it:

(mine is the one on the left and I called him Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel)

But I'm carving another pumpkin and this one will say "Happy Birthday."

Although Red and I have only been friends for a year now, she and I become closer all the time. She's a perfect fit in my life, and a wonderful friend. I want her to have a great birthday and to know that she means the world to me. In a city like LA, it's not easy to make strong personal connections and to keep them, so I do what I can to make sure that those I love know that they're loved.

Interjection

For the first time in what feels like forever, I've had a little bit of down-time at work today. My student is just now starting to get the hang of things and we actually got some work done today. We finished early, so I sent her home and have been catching up on a little web-reading with my spare hours. I just hopped on over to Nerve.com , where I stumbled upon this article: "A History of Single Life: the Truth About the Liberal 'War on Marriage'."

I've been reading this series for months now and always find myself nodding and even agreeing out-loud with what the author (Ken Mondschein) has to say. But today's article really got me thinking, because the older I get, the more I ponder the Marriage Question(s): Do I really want to get married? When? To whom?

Apparently, I'm not the only one asking this question. Mondschein says, "If you were to go to any town in America in 1940, pick a house at random and knock on the door (perhaps you were selling subscriptions to Grit magazine), there'd be a ninety-percent chance you'd find a married couple living there. Thirty years later, despite the new sexual freedom supposedly discovered by the Baby Boomers, the chance was still eight in ten. But then something funny happened: between 1998 and today — a mere eight years — the number of homes containing a married couple fell from six out of seven to one in two. "

That's baffling to me. That in such a short time, the tables have turned so drastically on something that is still (in many people's minds) considered an obligatory institution in this country. And it seems that while gay, bisexual and transgendered couples are fighting tooth and nail for the mere right to marry, heterosexual couples are turning their backs on the "sacred union." Mondschein's argument is an economical one - that the new financial landscape of our society is what's really breaking down the marital system, and I'm inclined to agree. But I also think that attitudes in general are shifting: people are less patient, more demanding, less willing to settle and struggle in quiet desperation.

I don't mean to get up on a soapbox here, but you wouldn't believe some of the reactions that I still get when I mention the ideas of not getting married or of not having children. People say, "Oh, you're just saying that, of course you'll get married/have kids. Everyone does." But they don't. More and more, people are choosing other roads to travel down. The average age for a first marriage keeps rising, and I doubt that there's a reversal in our near future.

What does my own future hold? If only I had a clue how to answer that question.

Lyrics of the Day

"Bells will ring, the sun will shine. Whoa, I'll be his and he'll be mine. We'll love until the end of time and we'll never be lonely anymore." The Crystals Going to the Chapel