Erratic Ramblings from More Strangers on the Train

It all started on the train with the two women sitting behind me, talking about their kids in baseball. The struggle was real. I was only half paying attention until one of them, let’s call her Lefty, said, “Oh jeepers.”

snort

I knew it was time to pull out my phone and document snippets of this conversation,because I know y’all love it when I eavesdrop.

Then Righty says, “Then, I watched The Nerds. You know, After the Thrones. They’re all SO nerdy! They think they’re so cool. But they’re such nerds.”

I don’t think Baseball Mom got the memo, that it’s hip to be a square these days…Even my mom (who was a cool girl) thinks the Big Bang gang is cool.

Lefty jumps back in with, “Did I ever tell you what Brett’s final grade was? He got an A. And she still wanted him to take it again. He told me, ‘She still says I don’t know the concepts.'”

Coming from a recovering teacher, I can attest to how hard it is not to pass students with Cs and Ds, but if they don’t understand the concepts, how the hell do they get As?

Righty, apparently checking her phone, “My email is full. It says delete some files and try again.  What Files!?”

Lefty was only half listening, because then she chimed in with, “I had 1,099 texts. From you from two years!”

A few minutes later, Righty was back on Game of Thrones, “I hope Danerys and whatsher face hook up. Yara? Maybe he’ll become an unsullied. What’s his face? He’s halfway there. Poor thing. He did betray his fam – his…Starks. When is Danerys going to find out all this stuff?”

Then they rambled some more about baseball and kids…

Righty was all, “What’s an Ethel Merman?”

And Lefty replied, “It’s German.”

Righty responded with “I have such a hard time visualizing things…”

snort

I couldn’t help it.

Then Righty starts singing, “Do you, do you want my love?” Followed by a whistle.

Lefty said something quiet enough for me to miss, and Righty quipped back, “It’s cuz I’m fancy. Fancy Nancy.”

I wish I was making all if this up. But it’s 100% real life.

Then Lefty says something like, “I’m sorry that you almost died but…I’m really glad I swim. It helps me!”

Righty dramatically reiterates, “I would have died.  I would literally have died.”

Ummm…okay, Righty. Glad you didn’t die or anything.

Conversations overheard on the train...and the Snapchats that shame them.

Conversations overheard on the train…and the Snapchats that shame them.

I  tried to turn them off, but then Righty said, “I’m like your lady’s maid.”

Lefty, realizing this was a brillz idea, responded, “I need a lady’s maid!”

“Doesn’t everybody.”

Well, actually…maybe?

And then they started talking about their appearances.

Lefty was all, “You don’t have football shoulders.”

Righty knows a good life when she sees it…”Thank GOD I don’t have football shoulders.”

“I do and it sucks.”

Poor Lefty with her football shoulders.

And then Righty starts singing again, “Do you do you want my love?”

And scene.

You know, commuting on the train is almost as entertaining as watching one of my favorite binge watches on Netflix. Everyone is a character in this world. Everyone. I get a glimpse into their lives, just like the tiny Carrie Bradshaw I’m currently obsessing over in The Carrie Diaries. Or the crazy awesome kids in the weird AF town on Stranger Things. Or my favorite office culture on 30 Rock.

What characters do you love to watch?

Netflix Stream Team

This post was brought to you by my friends at Netflix, who provided me, as a member of the Stream Team, with a year of Netflix, a device on which to watch it, and this month, a freaking awesome harmonica to play with. All opinions and words are mine.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

What Can You Do With an English Degree?

Whilst shopping at Carson Pirie Scott, I observed (eavesdropped) a couple of ladies who had run into each other randomly. I listened as they played catch up and maintained a somewhat blah degree of small talk. I drew a little bit closer as they began discussing one of their children who, to her mother’s dismay, was getting a degree in English.

Her friend/acquaintance asked, “Well, is she going to teach?”

The mother of this English major expressed her disappointment and incredulity that her daughter was, in fact, not going to be a teacher and what in the world could she do with such an inferior degree.

If you major in English, there are a LOT of career paths you can take. These are just a few ideas.

It was, at this point, the time I felt it necessary to interject. Yes, I did jump from being a fly on a wall to joining their conversation. Because OMG people need to understand the relevance and brilliance of English majors everywhere.

I marched right up to those women and interrupted the fuck out of their conversation. “There’s actually a lot you can do with an English major.”

They looked at me only a little funny, because in the Chicagoland area, and probably by extension the Midwest, it is entirely normal for people to just jump into your conversations. We’re a pretty friendly people. Even if we do eavesdrop and take joy in overhearing people quitting their jobs out of the blue.

“I have a Bachelor of Arts in English.”

“Do you teach?”

“No, actually I don’t. I’m certified to teach English, but I have no desire to do so. On the contrary, there are many things that a degree in English can prepare college grads for that other degrees don’t.”

“Really?”

Well, duh, lady.

“I’ve actually had a couple of thriving careers with my English degree, and the beauty is that I’m not tied down to just one. I was a catering manager for a couple of years, and now I’m a senior copywriter for a Fortune 100 company.” (And now I’m an editor. Maybe one day I’ll own a restaurant or something. It’s the circle of life, bitches).

The ladies were impressed and maybe a little less judgeysaurus rexy about the whole English major thing. As I walked away, I was transported back to my senior year of college in which one of my favorite professors, Dr. Prescott, led our senior project class. The project? Write a research thesis discussing one career path you  can take with your English major.

Of course, not knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up, as I had JUST dropped my education minor (to teach English) the previous semester, I looked to what I knew. Dad was in wine sales for years before he took on ownership of the bar. Liquor sales seemed like a brilliant idea. Plus I could source dad and some of his cronies for my first-person sources. It was ingenious. I got an  A.

English majors, and really anyone with a degree in the liberal arts, often get a bad rap for being lazy and stupid (LAS – Liberal Arts and Sciences). None of which is actually true. Lazy? Fuck no. We’re intuitive. We’re clever. We believe in working smarter not harder. If we can write a paper in 3 hours when we’re given 3 weeks, why in the world would we waste time writing it early? If we work better at 2 am than at noon, we’re going to write the shit out of a final paper in the middle of the night. Because we can. We understand our strengths and weaknesses. We know where and how to thrive.

-Literature is unbelievably helpful, because no matter what business you are in, you are dealing with interpersonal relationships,It gives you an appreciation of what makes people tick.-

As an English major, I learned more life skills than most of my friends in other more direct degree programs. Sure, a business major is going to learn how to land a deal or make a sale, but I learned how to talk to and more importantly, write to people. To engage my audience in a way that makes a sale feel natural and authentic. I learned how to negotiate a big fancy contract without ever discussing contract negotiations in a class, because I know people. I know words. I know the intrinsic value of human interaction in every aspect of business. Someone who went straight from their B.S. to an MBA program without working a day in their life doesn’t necessarily have that luxury (this also doesn’t mean that that don’t).

So what can you do with an English major?

Whatever the fuck you want.

Did you go to college? What did you major in? Did your major lead you down an expected career path? 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Who Needs Big Brother When I’m Listening to Your Conversations?

I realize that I’m a total creeper. To be fair, you guys asked for more of these…so if you’re weirded out, you’ve only got yourself to blame. Except for the graphic. That was all me.

I'm always listening to conversations, and when I hear or see something noteworthy? I write it down.

My old company had a big ole corporate office that I almost never visited. I worked at a satellite office full of hipsters and people who didn’t seem to mind that I wore rainbow yoga pants to work. It was a comfortable place to be. In my last couple of months at the company, I was required to make my way to corporate on a weekly cadence. My teammates and I called it Mordor because a dark cloud seemed to loom over the long drive to the office.

One of the neat things about Mordor err…corporate was the miniature city within an office. When I realized I needed to buy tampons, I could just head to the convenience store inside the building. Which is exactly what I did on my last Mordor err…corporate day.

I walked into the shop, where a woman was sitting behind a register on the left side of the counter and a young man was standing behind the register on the right side. Another employee was walking back and forth through the store, and I made my way to the pharmacy aisle.

I grabbed a box of tampons, walked down the snack aisle, stared longingly at the box of Oreos that I opted not to purchase, and made my way to the cashier, a young gentleman in his late teens/early twenties. I thought to myself how far I’d come since my embarrassing first period, and how I didn’t give two shits that some dude had to pick up a box of tampons, look me in the eye, and ask if I needed anything else. If he did ask, I considered telling him to hold on a second, I needed some Midol – just for funsies, but he never gave me the chance. He scanned my tampons, and as I was punching in my phone number to the system, some other guy (my assumption is that he was the manager or supervisor) walked behind him.

This was the exchange that played out.

Cashier: K, I am not in the mood. I’m sick and don’t feel well.

Wait, what the fuck is going on? Where did that even come from? That guy never said anything.

Supervisor: I don’t give a shit.

Woah. Hostile much? Wait, these people are AT WORK. This is how they’re speaking to each other in front of customers. This is SO fucked up.

Cashier: Fuck this place.

Well, this is an interesting turn of events…I wonder if he’s going to…

The cashier reaches behind his neck, pulls off the lanyard he’s wearing, and drops his badge on the counter before I’ve had the chance to swipe my credit card.

Cashier: I quit. I’m done dealing with this bullshit. Have fun making deliveries today.

Did that seriously just happen?

Yep. Yes, it did. That guy just quit. While ringing up my tampons.

Me: Ummm…can someone complete my transaction?

The girl sitting down stood and moved toward the register I was at, and the previous cashier turned from the door before he left.

Cashier: A, I’m really sorry. I’m sick of this shit. I have to go.

That was fucking ridiculous.

The girl completed my transaction, and I went on my merry way. Furiously typing up the exchange in my “other people’s conversations” files, anxious to tell you about this insanely ridiculous story.

It seemed fitting that this happened on my last day at the central office, as I only had a few days left. I was glad I didn’t quit in anger like that guy, but it definitely added to the weirdness I felt about leaving.

Have you ever witnessed someone leave their job or have you quit in a rage? What is the craziest way in which you’ve left a job?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I’m Listening to Your Conversations and Writing Down Your Words

One of my favorite pastimes is people watching. It began as a simple pleasure.

Dining alone at a restaurant allowed me to play games in which I guessed everything about you, from your relationship status to the reason you ordered the salad or the steak. I’d watch carefully as you tucked that strand of hair behind your ear 15 times or as you hugged your girlfriend, wife, mother, child goodbye at the door. I’d create a story about you in my head that made sense. Sometimes it was a funny story, and sometimes it was sad. But it always felt real.

Sometimes, I’d pen a few words in a notebook as I watched you. Write your story down, to remember it. To change it and tell it later. Maybe you’d be the hero in my future fiction best seller. Or the villain in a screenplay I’ll write one day.

And then something changed. I started carrying this mini computer everywhere. I got lost in Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. Snapchat. Blogging. E-mails. Everything but what truly surrounded me. Scrolling through an endless stream of what people I “know” are up to. What they’re eating. Where they’re vacationing. When they go to work. How they go to work. I discovered I could people watch without watching anyone. I could see their lives unfold without being anywhere near them. I didn’t need to make up a story, because it was all right there on my screen.

You were forgotten.

Instead of watching you argue with the cashier at LOFT about a coupon, I was staring down at my phone in a trance. Watching them talk about their most recent Amazon purchase or what their kids ate for breakfast. Laughing about a meme that everyone was sharing.

Once in a while, I’m reminded of you. Your screaming is so loud, I’m drawn back into the real world. I see you. I hear you. And everything you say is absolute gold. And now, with this tiny computer, I can capture it. Whether I’m recording you on Snapchat like an asshole (I’m the asshole, not you) or sending myself your words for posterity in an email, I’m there. Listening to everything you say. I promise.

I'm Listening to Your Words

In case you don’t believe me, here are some of my favorite things you’ve said.

Middle Schoolers on an air plane trip to Washington DC

“I feel bad for all these people.”

To be fair, we were warned that it was a full plane and the back half of the plane was going to fill up with tweens.

“You have to pay $8 for Facebook!?”

Technically, it’s $8 for the whole Internet, but you know…tomato, tomahto.

“I’m attracted to a 7th grader.”

I’m assuming you’re in 8th grade, and it’s probably not going to work out for you, my friend.

“Wow, they’re really pooping those things [luggage at baggage claim] out.”

You’re not wrong, my young friend. You’re not wrong.

In case the Internet isn't creepy enough, whatever you say in public has become fair game. Click To Tweet

Lady on the train without a ticket

“My sister died! My sister died! They didn’t even let me see her! You know who my grandfather was? Al Capone. Could you hold this [coffee]?”

I feel really sorry for you, lady, even though you’re lying…at least about Al Capone. But I also feel sorry for the women to whom you passed your coffee cup. We shared a sympathetic look as she set your coffee cup on the floor while you went to take a crap in the train bathroom.

Business guys at a hot dog joint

“What is she Croatian? Is she Romanian? I know she’s not Greek, ’cause I insulted the Greeks in a meeting and she didn’t flinch.”

Oh boy, gentleman. Your deep Chicago accents are making this way more entertaining than it should be.

“He dead?”

You sound so flip. At least train lady was obviously distressed.

“Just like that guy who got his arm stuck in a boulder and had to cut it off.”

You guys are a train wreck. Please don’t leave. I want to listen to you for hours.

You left.

What juicy conversations have you overheard in your world? What are your favorite people-watching places?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Hey Baby, What’s Your Myers-Briggs Type?

For the last few weeks, I’ve taken you on a little journey that started with two guys in a bar (this is the beginning of the story, so if you’re new around here, start with this post), and has led to a very serious flirting problem that included a lot more waiting than I would have preferred. Well, not that this should surprise you, based on what you know about my dating experience, but it took another month before I messaged The Grown Up again.

I had been seeing another gentleman caller, who was attractive, kind and okay to be around…I nicknamed him McDreamy during our brief time together, but he wasn’t entirely deserving of the name. He was what you might refer to as pretty, but dumb. He was about as intellectually stimulating as a carrot.

So I was looking for something a little more. Something with substance. SomeONE with substance…someone with half a brain.

And so I messaged The Grown Up.

photo credit: L1010203_v1 via photopin (license)

photo credit: L1010203_v1 via photopin (license)

This was our longest conversation to date. I think we chatted for a few hours that fateful evening.

I sent him a tongue-sticking-out emoji, because I wasn’t terribly clever when it came to starting chatversations. It was shortly after St Patrick’s Day, and I worked at an Irish bar, so it seemed logical for him to ask me about it. And for once, I was actually kind of letting him in.

TGU: How was St Patricks day? Nightmare crowd?
Me: I didn’t work.
They hate me.
TGU: ?
Me: They didn’t schedule me.
So I went out drinking all day 😀
TGU: Do you seriously think they hate you?
Me: Yes.
But, it was okay because I went to my local watering hole dive pub that was filled with people I knew and liked.
I had a happy little corner and people came to me.

Bars on St. Patrick's Day get pretty crowded...

Bars on St. Patrick’s Day get pretty crowded…

TGU: nice!

I was going to impress him with my barfly popularity. That always worked. Why I felt the need to tell him my job essentially sucked, I’ll never know. But he took it to a whole new level.

TGU: So are you Norm, or Cliff Clavin, or Sam Malone?
Me: Well, my brother is Norm.
For sure.
He walks into the bar and everyone is all “WOJ!”
TGU: Frasier? Woody?

I considered explaining to him that I was a lady and didn’t want to be a boy character…

Me: I’m more Diane
TGU: Really?
Diane was…kinda…

Dude, I chose Diane because she was the pretty nice one.

Me: Hmmm maybe Kirstie Alley’s character?

Not really, but what other ladies were on that damn show?

TGU: Umm

I know. You’re right. But I can’t even…wait! I know!

Me: nah…
Carla

TGU: She was definitely better than Diane
hahaha
Carla was awesome
Me: I’m a sassy pants.
I’m the hilarious one.
TGU: hahaha… always awesome when people think they’re the funny one… hahaha
Although I don’t remember you laughing at your own jokes, so you’re probably OK.
Me: lol
I just get told that I’m funny all the time.
I don’t always think I’m that funny…I just talk a lot
TGU: hahaha

Oooh he thinks I’m funny!

TGU: So, did you have a good time last night?

Finally! My chance to shine again. Stupid pre-dating questions.

Me: Indeed
TGU: you don’t even remember do you?
Me: I do too!
TGU: All some kind of greenish blur.
Me: I maintained a pleasant buzz throughout the evening.

Irish PrincessOkay fine, you guys, I drank all damn day…went to 4 different bars…got stupid drunk. He didn’t need to know that.

TGU: Nice.
That’s the best way to do it.
Me: Exactly.
Functional but fun.

It was at this point, I believe, The Grown Up decided he might actually be interested in me. I didn’t realize it for…well…a while. I’m not very observant…

TGU: <nerd talk>hey, did you ever take a Myers-Briggs test? </end nerd talk>
Me: LOL yes.

He was adorably nerdy. He used freakin’ code speak. I loved him. And, for the record, I generally hate personality tests. HATE. THEM. A lot. But I just went la-de-da a boy might like me la-de-da sure I’ll take your stupid test…

TGU: did I already ask you this?

Is this really a thing you do?

Me: No, I just really liked the nerd talk interjection.

True story. Loved <nerd talk>.

TGU: Hey, some people can’t handle the nerd-nitude.
Me: I <3 nerds
TGU: yay! nerd love!
There’s not enough love for the nerds out there.
Do you remember what types you were?
(MyersBriggs came up recently with friends, and so I’ve been thinking about it lately.)
Nice play, there, Grown Up. I now (as in real time NOW) see what you were doing here.
TGU: You’re probably an…EN something…because you’re very social and yet like nerds.
Me: LOL I don’t remember for sure.
I’m, like, all over the place, though.
TGU: Understandable…kinda outta nowhere…
 If you ever feel like it…
Me: Will do.
I’m not going to lie, here, guys…I went and took the damn test immediately. I was just all la-de-da…this could be interesting…la-de-da this boy is super nerdy. I should make him love me with my winning personality…
TGU: What I realized was that N’s are less common then S people.
And T’s are less common then F’s in women…
 me: What does each stand for?
TGU: so NT women are the most rare type
Me: I don’t know where I fall, but I’ve been told I’m a rare breed of girl. lol

The Grown Up went on a long discussion of personality types, but I’ll spare you the details. You’re welcome.

Me: I think I’m ENFP…but not 100% sure
Me: Oh yeah
That’s me
Hardcore!
Winning Personality
Please love me, Grown Up. I promise I’ll be really nice and stop being a serial dater.
TGU: Yay! That’s gonna be my new line… instead of “What’s your sign, baby?” I’ll say “What’s your MyersBriggs type, baby?”
For the love of GOD; we’re FINALLY getting somewhere.
Me:That’ll get you all the ladies!
You’ve got me, dude. Just ask me the fuck out.
TGU: Totally! world, look out!
Me: Okay, maybe only the intellectually nerdy ones…
TGU: Eh, they’re the only ones I want anyway
Me: Good point. pretty but dumb gets old pretty fast

And then The Grown Up started talking about a girl he dated who fell into that category (although not dumb, just an “S” versus and “N”). I refrained from talking about my “McDreamy” because I didn’t think talking about one’s current prospects with another of one’s current prospects was in good taste. I merely mentioned that I didn’t feel guilty about categorizing the “pretty but dumb.”

TGU: (the world is about 65% S people… it’s one of the few types that doesn’t have a 50/50 split in the general population)
Me: Strange.
TGU: I like to think that reality TV is their fault.
Me: LOL  probably.
God, I fucking hate reality TV. Unless I can get famous by being on reality TV. I’m not completely opposed…
TGU: So what have you been doing for fun lately?
Me: That is my least favorite question ever. I do everything fun.
TGU: Must be nice!
Me: Indeed. Just doing my Chrissy thing
TGU: heh. Threesomes with Jack Tripper?
Me: UGH!  swat
TGU: ouch!
Me: Watch it, buddy! No Threes Company references…
TGU: What Chrissy then?
 Me:  just me!
TGU: I thought your name was actually <insert personal e-mail address here>
Me: that’s a tough one for people to get on the first try, so we shortened it to Chrissy.
We continued to banter about my name for a few more minutes before he dropped the bomb.

TGU: We should hang out some night, so I can see you in person when you’re not working. What does your schedule look like next week?

Now THAT’S a sure thing. Asking about schedules means a date will finally fucking happen.

Me: I think that’s a stellar idea. At this point it’s pretty open.
TGU: How about something like Tuesday?
Me: I can do Tuesday.
TGU: Sweet.

And just like that, I had a date with The Grown Up. Honestly, it only took three fucking months. Whatever. It was game. On. We exchanged phone numbers and he promised to plan a whole date. I was impressed and excited. I was usually the one who had to come up with an itinerary. All I had to do was pick out a killer outfit and make him fall in love with me. Easy peasy, my friends.

Are you as excited for this date as I was? What’s the longest you’ve waited for someone to ask you out? Would you have even waited as long as I did? What are your thoughts on personality tests? Or better yet, what are your thoughts on personality tests before a first date?

Riding in Cars with Boys

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Last week, I offered you some wise dating advice. I left The Grown Up hanging while I meandered off to a late breakfast. I just KNOW he was waiting with baited breath for my imminent return. And as any good obsessive dater does, I couldn’t wait to get back and chat with him some more. Our conversation was…well, okay, fine. It wasn’t quite riveting. I was imagining him to be this amazing, wonderful, adorable, brilliant creature of a man who would one day love me, marry me and make babies with me. I pictured our life together, and I believed in my heart that he would lead me down a magical path to happily ever after. Don’t you do that with every guy you talk to? No? Just me?

Timeline

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you can start from the beginning with the story of the boys that invited me to Ireland and work your way back here.

Sheepishly continues the story

I returned from my breakfast date several hours later and professed my adorably undying love for breakfast. The Grown Up responded soon after with this gem:

TGU: There’s no way you just had breakfast at 2:30pm…unless…gasp…you had a double breakfast! One standard breakfast and then breakfast for lunch. That’s madness!!!
Me: Man, I wish.
But I was at breakfast for like 3 hours.
Although now that I think about it…breakfast for lunch would rock

Yeah, Chrissy. Like you’d never had breakfast for lunch before. FAKER.

TGU: only on Sundays. It’s ILLEGAL to even attempt that on any other day
Me: WHAT!?!
Now that’s just crazy talk
TGU: ILLEGAL! In most municipalities and jurisdictions…if they catch you…I…I don’t even know what they might do.
Just be careful.
There are various underground restaurants that flout this law.
I’ve heard that some of those restaurants are actually narcs…and just put those items on the menu to entrap potential law-breakers.
(BTW, a 3 hour breakfast? seriously?)
Me: well…we were talking!
I was meeting with someone in my organization
so partially business stuff…
but he’s also a friend, and going through some shit.

We chatted for a while about some pretty deep shit, relating to marriage and relationships (Is it weird to talk about marriage with a potential partner?). He continued to throw in his snarky commentary, regardless of the gravity of the topic. He was able to find humor in almost anything. And he made me laugh.

The conversation took a turn for the worst when The Grown Up had a problem with his iPhone…it stopped working, and he cursed the little i for breaking on him, swearing that he wasn’t really an Apple guy anyways, and this was one of the reasons why. I couldn’t have agreed more, but apparently he was so distraught and irritated that he had to abruptly end our chat. Again.

As he disappeared from my chat list, I should have been thinking about how he kept flaking as soon as the conversation got interesting. But I lived in my little la la land, and imagined my future relationship with The Grown Up. I found his words intoxicating, I was consistently entertained by his sense of humor, and excited at the prospect of dating someone who wasn’t a scrub. I went in with a plan. The next time I talked to him, I was GOING to ask him out. I just was.

I often gave advice to my friends, telling them that they should ask a guy out, for a specific day, thus actually asking him on a real date. Of course, I was painfully shy as soon as I actually liked someone, and at that point I wished I had someone on the inside to make it happen for me. Basically, I was a chicken shit. He still had not given me his phone number, and I hadn’t either. It was weird to only communicate with someone via chat that I had actually met in real life and not through an online dating site. But I was crushing hard, and not thinking logically. I still couldn’t stalk him to find anything about him on Facebook or MySpace or Google.

So I would have to wait. Again.

But next week? The story gets really good.

If you could go back in time and knock some fucking sense into the me of the past, what would you tell her? I’m driving myself crazy remembering how nutso and immature I was back then. I almost feel sorry for The Grown Up – do you? Any lingering courtships that took forever to get away from the gate?

Click the pic below to find out what happens next!

The story continues. This is it. Make or break time. photo credit: L1010203_v1 via photopin (license)

The story continues. This is it. Make or break time. photo credit: L1010203_v1 via photopin (license)

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Desperately Seeking Something: How to Fuck Everything Up

After I met two cool guys at the bar at which I was working, and stalked the shit out of the handsome one, I went into work that next afternoon, swooning. The mysterious Grown Up (formerly known as Handsome) was completely occupying my mind. I was always game for a challenge, and someone who couldn’t be found on social media was definitely a challenge in my book. My bartender friend and I spent the very slow work day planning my future wedding to my newest crush.

Desperately Seeking Something

I didn’t have to wait long for the first real email. Some time around noon that afternoon, The Grown Up responded to my adorable comment with just enough sass to make me laugh and just enough weirdness to make me smile. I knew responding to him was going to be fun.

He told me that I obviously had beer goggles on, as he was definitely not “adorable,” though I was welcome to call him dashing, debonair, distinguished, or even elegant. He made some ridiculous nonsensical commentary on my email signature, which referenced a leadership role in an organization and my consultant status for Tastefully Simple. It was teasing, light, and absolutely adorable. His sense of humor really nailed it for me. It was just random enough to make me think more and carefully craft a response that played off his playful tone.

I told him that he was definitely all of those things, but he was also adorable with the definitive argument that it was my word and so it would be that he were adorable.

I added a little light banter about his obvious modesty, and sent the response later that evening. As I waited for another email, I analyzed every word in his first email. I used any personal details to continue my Google search. I still couldn’t find him on social media. Maybe he didn’t have a Facebook account. Maybe he wasn’t that techy or internetty. I even sent him a chat request that went unanswered.

But he e-mailed me the next day using that same, adorable and teasing tone.

Modesty

Words turn me on.

I was seriously hooked. His word choices. His sense of humor.  He was smart. And a smart ass. I loved him. I sent another chat request before responding to his e-mail.

Actually, I sent him several chat requests that soon went unanswered. Shit. Was I fucking this up already?

If you didn’t already know, I was/am a master of fucking things up. I push buttons…A LOT. I kinda like testing my limits. It’s a thing.

These are actual messages my dope ass sent to the poor Grown Up...who was probably doing grown-up things.

These are actual messages my dope ass sent three days in a row to the poor Grown Up…who was probably doing grown-up things. I’m really bad at flirting.

My third IM (which was on the third day – and actually in the morning, and not at night) was met with an awkward response that made perfect sense. He worked at a computer all day. If he looked like he was online at night, he probably wasn’t ACTUALLY online.

Oh.

So we briefly conversed about our jobs and career paths, and I told him I wanted to be a teacher. Our conversation concluded with this little blurb of utter genius…something that I had forgotten completely until finding old conversations to use for this tale.

Grown Up: Being around young people is a good way to stay young. The company I work at now is practically geriatric. I'd say that the corporate culture is stilted... but, honestly, I think most people are kind of stilted generally and almost all corporate cultures have a chilling effect on individuality. me: yeah. The closest I came to working for a corporate company was when I was a catering manager, which hardly constitutes the corporate world Grown Up: Count your lucky stars! me: Every day!

Wise words from The Grown Up… If only I remembered this conversation before I jumped into Corporate America. It almost makes me a little sad for Corporate Chrissy…

After a three day Gmail love affair, though…life took its typical turn in relationship Chrissyland…and the handsome Grown Up didn’t respond again. Christmas was a few days away, and my last e-mail went unanswered. I failed to send another desperate IM during the busy that was Christmas.

Two days before Christmas, I met someone else…and two days after Christmas, someone from my past came back into my life, and the Grown Up that wasn’t pursuing me got pushed to the backseat by the boys that were. I suppose the saying is true…when it rains, it pours. And for me, it was raining men.

Hallelujah.

Was this the end? Would I ever see the Handsome Grown Up or Bright and Shiny again? Friends, tell it to me straight – have you ever pushed a little too hard when you were interested in someone? Do you not push enough? Tell me your tales of woo and woe!

Find out what happens next by clicking the picture below!

a long day at the bar

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

A Conversation About Fairies

Brian: If I were to create a D&D character for you, what would you want to be?
Me: Do you just want to create more characters?
Brian: No, we’re going to play.
Me: Umm…what are my options?
Brian lists a bunch of general things like controllers, defenders, strikers…and explains them
Me: Can I be a fairy?
Brian: Umm, you could be a gnome.
Me: That’s not a fairy.
Brian: They’re fae.
Me: But gnomes live in trees and fairies have wings.
Brian: You could be x,y, or z.
Me: Can I see pictures?
Brian pulls up pictures.
Brian: These are gnomes.
Me: Where are their hats?
Brian: They’re not garden gnomes.
Me: But David the Gnome wears a pointy hat.
Brian: Not. That. Kind. Of. Gnome.
Brian runs through a few of the pictures, explaining the characters.
Me: Okay, I’ll be a fancy elf.
Brian: Eladrin.
Me: Yeah, that.

Did you ever play D&D? (Dungeons and Dragons in case you didn’t know). Would you?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Every Two Seconds Someone Punches Someone Else in the Arm-And That’s Why We Can’t Have Nice Things…or World Peace

A conversation Brian and I had this morning had me in tears I was laughing so hard. I had every intention of getting on the train and typing it in my phone so that I didn’t forget it. And then I got on the train and got all chatty…and boom. It was lost.

So when I went to write the post at lunch, I was all, SHIT! I forgot what we were laughing about. Or rather, what I was laughing about. Luckily, when you have a boyfriend as cool as mine, he’ll text you a little reminder. And then you win at life.

Brian: What do you want for your birthday?

Me (thinking): I hate this question
Me (talking): I don’t know. World peace.
Brian: Okay. I will give you world peace. Two whole seconds of it.
Me: That’s impossible. The whole world is never asleep for the same two seconds.
Brian: No one has to be asleep. I will give you two seconds of world peace. You don’t have to trust me.
Me: You’re not going to give me world peace.
Brian: Yes I am. I’ll give you two seconds of world peace. It’ll be good. You’ll love it.
Me: It’s not even possible. Something bad happens in every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of…
Brian: No. I’ll give you two seconds.
Me: I don’t believe you.
Brian: You’ll get two seconds of peace. I swear. And I will tell you ahead of time so that it’s an actual prediction, but it’s up to you to confirm it. But you will probably punch me in the shoulder during that time out of spite like a typical human.
Me: I don’t have to punch you in the arm. It’s not going to be two seconds of world peace.
Brian: You’re going to punch me in the arm in those two seconds aren’t you?
Me: Yes.
birthday dessert

This. I want this for my birthday. Cheese in my dessert.

I hate it when people ask what I want for my birthday. So the next time someone asks, I want something really clever to say. Any ideas? What do you want for YOUR birthday?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Three Years Later, and No One Can Make Me Laugh as Much as This Guy

Today is our third anniversary. We’ve now got 3 years of a laughter-foundation to build on. Last year on our anniversary, I wrote Brian a schmoopy and ridiculous letter and made him a super special card.

This year, I’ll spare you the schmoop and (hopefully) make you laugh.

Thanks to Daylight Savings Time, I’m still not in my normal sleep patterns. So Brian was ready to fall asleep the other night when I rolled into bed. I popped a melatonin (Dudes. The NatureMade Vitamelts taste like mint chocolate. #shamelessplug #noonepaidme) and tried to get sleepy.

Of course, I started rambling at Brian about him getting sleepy and hypnotizing him into loving Disney and wanting to go to all the Disney parks in the world. He picked up on my game and started saying we could go to Disney Antarctica (and that segwayed into tap-dancing penguins [because shouldn’t every conversation lead to tap-dancing penguins?] and flying puffins).

Eventually, though, he commented on my lack of sleepiness. And this is how that conversation went down.

Brian: You’re not tired at all, are you.
Me: Nope. But I’m trying to tone it down.
Brian: You’re melatonin it down, you mean?

At which point I started laughing like a hyena and giggling like it was the funniest thing on the planet. Even though it wasn’t really. And then he was totally awake. And trying to shush me. But I couldn’t. Stop. Laughing. And was thankful that our downstairs neighbors moved out because I was laughing REALLY loud. And I would have felt bad.

5 minutes later, I was out like a light.  I do that. All awake one minute; passed out the next.

Things like this happen. All. The. Time. Because he’s funny. But mostly, he’s funny to me.

To the best boyfriend on the entire planet-Happy Anniversary.

Do you and your person/boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/partner have weird inside jokes and make each other laugh with really bad jokes?

 

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!