The Bachelor

GB is out of town for the next few days, and while I do miss him, there's a joy in being all by myself, doing exactly as I wish. Which mostly involves not wearing pants (which I can do even when he's home, fortunately) and playing with my Wii. (I also play with the homophone of my Wii pretty frequently when he's away.)

And while I won't say I'm exactly a slovenly person, let's just say I only make the bed because he prefers it that way, and I'm not bothering to wash the dishes tonight. (Though honestly, I do feel lucky to date someone who doesn't believe in leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight.) To my credit, I do still flush even when I'm by myself. Even when it's just number one!

I love being part of a couple; in fact, I can't imagine my life any other way anymore. But is there anything wrong with reveling in fake singlehood (without all the wild sex that used to entail) for a few days? (Okay, occasional wild sex. And mostly with myself.)

I don't think so. Now pass me a beer and hand me my Rock Band guitar.

Buddy, I'll Show You Offensive

Seriously? This vaguely Georgia O'Keefe-ish Absolut ad should offend me?

People are SO SENSITIVE about giant fake vaginas. Sheesh.

Internetiquette

So...is it wrong to accept a friend request on Facebook from someone you kind of dated in high school simply because he's shirtless in his profile picture and so ripped you want to eat frozen yogurt off his naked body?

I'm just curious.

High-Class Conversations, Part I

Corazon: I had a BLT on a waffle.

Me: That sounds kind of gross.

Corazon: They used spinach instead of lettuce.

Me: Hmm, that actually sounds better. Plus it had bacon on it; I'll eat anything that has bacon on it.

Jenny: I'd eat pussy if it had bacon on it!

Me: NOTE TO SELF...

Speaking In Tongues

I'm once again trying the Internet dating thing. Actually, it's not half bad. Well, okay, if we're using math, it's exactly half bad.

I've been on two dates with two different guys. I won't bore you with the good date because you don't care about that. You want to hear about the bad date. Bad dates are way more interesting.

To be fair, it was a great location (Descanso Gardens) and he picked it, so bonus points for him. However, he was extraordinarily quiet. Like mime quiet. He also kept eating the plants (no joke) and didn't quite match his online photos that portrayed him as a person with normal hair and average body weight. This is not to say that I'm shallow! Okay, I am shallow. I'd like to date someone with whom I can imagine engaging in the types of sex acts that remain illegal in some Southern states. And this guy looked only vaguely like his photos, and by "vaguely," I mean maybe he ate that guy and showed up posing as him.

Shouldn't there be some sort of harsh criminal penalty for putting up misleading photos on a dating site?

Knocked Up

Last night I had this incredibly realistic dream that I was hugely pregnant and in labor. My belly was so freaking big and the contractions hurt really bad; I'm sure that actually giving birth is much more painful, which is worrisome*. Also I was writhing around alone in my bed without any medical assistance, which sort of sucked.

I was vaguely aggravated about being pregnant in the first place and definitely not thrilled about giving birth, given the pain factor. In this middle of everything, I woke up briefly and then fell back asleep, at which point, thankfully, the baby was already born. Turns out I had a girl and named her Carolina** Rose. Remarkably, or perhaps not, there was no father featured in the dream and my foremost concern was getting back to work. At no point did I even ever see the baby, in fact.

In related news, and in the spirit of always trying to share TMI, my cycle has been really off due to a six week stint on the Pill shortly before leaving for China and during my time there in hopes of pushing back my period until my return to California. It worked up until a couple of days before we left Beijing, but then my body was all fucked up from the hormones. I was about a week late this month and had a lovely two weeks of PMS action without ever hitting the M part of that acronym. Normally that wouldn't be a huge deal, except since I've actually gotten some action lately***, I was stressed out that maybe I wasn't just late but LATE.

I went so far as to take a pregnancy test last night (only one line, whew!) but I was still worried because I'm crazy. Thus my mind conjured the insane dreams last night which once again proved that even in my subconscious, I'm unfit for motherhood.

* Or would be, if I ever intended to get pregnant.

** Pronounced as in Carolina Herrera, not South Carolina.

*** Always use a condom, boys and girls. I do! And yet I'm still terrified of getting pregnant because I'm Catholic and I know God wants to punish me for having pre-marital sex.

Oh, Barry!

I had a somewhat, *ahem*, romantical dream about Barack Obama last night. Unfortunately, one minute Barry and I were alone, about to make some real progress on the important and pressing issue of nudity in my bedroom, and the next minute three other people appeared and were all up in our business about what we were doing. Thus, he never got to use his signing pen, if you catch my drift.

And then I woke up! I really need to work harder at learning to lucid dream.

Miss Lonelypants

A friend recently told me about a dating site she's using that she likes. According to her, it's free and filled with attractive people. (I'd tell you the name of the site, but she made me promise under penalty of death that I wouldn't share it and lessen our chances with the available men.)

At any rate, feeling sexually frustrated (my version of lonely), I decided to sign up yesterday. I saw a couple of interesting profiles and had a few emails by the time I came home today. While I was online checking my messages, I was asked to chat by two different guys, one right after the other.

Wow, I'm popular!

Right.

Sure.

I got hung up on both times. TWICE. IN A ROW. By men who initiated contact with me.

Granted, the first one wasn't really a "man", given that he was only 19. Okay, I admit, I shouldn't have agreed to talk to him in the first place! But he was hot and he said he liked older women, and, shamefully, I kind of wanted to make fun of him. (I'm horny AND cruel.) He disconnected on me after I responded to his greeting with "Aren't you a little young for this?" I didn't even get to ask if he was just going after older women so they could buy him booze! Honestly, I think he was lying about his age anyways. He was easily 20.

The second dude was older and kind of cute, but halfway through our conversation he had already made a reference to being nude (uh, gross)...still, I stuck around and tried to ignore the comment. Then he started an anti-Obama rant, blaming the state of the economy on a man who's been president for less than two months.

And yet HE is the one who hung up on ME.

To my credit, whatever that means, I actually tried to have an adult conversation, arguing my political points with reason and facts and only a few insults. After he said Obama didn't know what a bad economy is really like because he's only in his mid-forties, I typed, "Uh, you're 40. Are you telling me you traveled back in time to experience the Depression?" This is the point at which he disconnected.

I wanted to yell, "I SAID GOOD DAY, SIR!" but unfortunately, I was sitting alone in my bathrobe at home in front of my laptop. The statement loses a little power that way.

Anyhow, it's obvious that neither of these guys were right for me, but somehow I can't help thinking that if I started saying a little less of what I'm thinking, I might date a little more. *sigh*